Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property ofBuffaloPictures. I own nothing.
MARTIN GOES TO LONDON –
AN ALTERNATIVE ENDING TO SERIES 4
Martin Ellingham looked around the bland Kensington flat he'd been renting since he'd come back to London. He had been here over three weeks now, but still hadn't got round to unpacking all of the boxes, so it looked cluttered and untidy – very unusual for Martin. He looked out of the window and saw traffic, office blocks, buildings, roads, then sighed as he thought of wind swept cliffs, blue sea and sky, with a certain school building. He recognised the familiar feeling, recalled it only too well.
Homesickness. He used to get so terribly homesick when he had to return to his boarding school after spending the holidays with Auntie Joan.
"For God's sake, pull yourself together man," he told himself. "You're not ten years old anymore."
He paced round the flat a few times, then pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket. He called Louisa's number, which he still had on speed dial. After a few rings, it changed to the engaged tone. With an exasperated sigh, he tried the number again. This time, he got the messaging service. Apparently, the phone was now switched off.
He left a message, knowing that there would be no reply.
"Louisa, it's Martin. I just wanted to check you're OK, no news or anything. Please call me back, this is the third message I've left."
Why wouldn't she take his calls? She was now a week overdue, and he couldn't stop thinking about what she might be going through. At times his mind raced ahead thinking all the worst thoughts – painful labour going on for hours and hours while she was all by herself, emergency caesarian, no one with her…
Martin made another call on his mobile, this time to Joan.
"Auntie Joan, how are you?" asked Martin
"I'm fine Marty, same as this morning when you rang actually, and no, I haven't seen Louisa, or heard anything. There was no one at her house when I called by, and no one has heard anything. I'll try calling by again as soon as I get the chance," offered Joan.
"Thanks. You'll let me know as soon as…"
"Yes, as I've told you numerous times already, as soon as I know anything at all, I'll call you straight away, so please stop calling me every five minutes! Good Night, Martin." He could hear the exasperation in his aunt's voice, but knew she didn't really mind.
The following morning, Martin walked into his secretary's office at Imperial. Mrs. James was the model of efficiency, all professional and business like, dressed in her smart suit. Nothing like Pauline at all, no wacky jewellery or garish attire, and certainly no screen saver picture of her boyfriend.
"Any personal calls, especially from Mrs. Norton or Miss Glasson, are to be put through to me immediately. Is that clear?" he barked at her.
"Yes Mr. Ellingham, of course," she replied, as she had every morning that week to the same order. It didn't faze her that Martin was abrupt and rude. She'd worked for consultants for years, and that's how they all were.
Martin strode into his office and slammed the door.
Things hadn't worked out as he had expected. He hadn't realised that they were not going to let him operate until he'd completed a retraining course with some young whippersnapper who reminded him of that arse Adrian Pitts, and that even when he did start he would have to be shadowed at all times until they were satisfied that he really was cured of his blood phobia.
'Can't afford to take the chance, what with hospitals being sued these days,' Robert had said. Martin hated it, he wouldn't have taken the job if he'd realized. Or would he, considering he'd been so anxious to get away from Portwenn - and Louisa.
The phone on his desk rang and he picked it up straight away.
"Mrs. Norton for you, Mr. Ellingham," his secretary informed him before putting her through.
"What is it? What's happening?" Martin yelled.
"And good morning to you too, Martin," Joan replied witheringly.
"Yes, that too. Well?" asked Martin, growing yet more impatient.
"I saw Louisa this morning, called by pretty early to make sure to catch her. She's OK, very fed up of course, said backache is keeping her awake a lot of the night. She has an appointment at the hospital this afternoon, and she doesn't know if they will keep her in to be induced or not. Said she's fed up with everyone asking if she's had the baby yet, so that's why she has been switching her phone off. She said that when there's something to know, you will be informed in due course," Joan explained.
"Right well, thanks for that, Auntie Joan," said Martin. "You'll let me know….?"
"Yes of course, Marty. Bye for now," Joan sighed as she rang off.
That evening, Louisa rolled her eyes when her mobile phone 'd been disappointed with the outcome of her hospital visit today. They'd decided to let her go home until Monday – today was Thursday – on the basis that if nothing happened over the weekend, she would go in on Monday to be induced.
Martin. Again. She cancelled the call and switched her phone off. Her landline didn't work; it'd been cut off when old man Routledge hadn't paid his bill. She hadn't bothered to get it reconnected. It wasn't worth the expense, not when she was paying for her mobile anyway.
Why did Martin have to keep ringing her? He'd gone, left, moved away to get on with his life, so why couldn't he leave her alone to get on with hers?
Last week when she had taken Martin's call, they 'd ended up arguing and rowing, as usual. They couldn't seem to have a civil conversation anymore. All he did was criticize everything she did or said, and she'd ended up getting very upset, which she really didn't need right now. She just needed to focus on getting through the next few days, never mind about how she was going to manage after that, which was what Martin kept banging on about. If she was honest, she was petrified about giving birth, but this baby had to come out, if it ever decided it was time to make an appearance.
Early next morning, Louisa was woken by a loud series of impatient knocks at her front door.
"Must be the postman with a package to sign for," she thought.
She heaved herself out of bed, and slowly began making her way downstairs.
There was yet another impatient knock on the door.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming as fast as a beached whale can," she yelled down the stairs.
She finally reached the front door, then nearly fainted with shock when she opened it.
Standing there on her door step, larger than life, was Martin, wearing his usual cross expression along with a deep frown.
"W…what on earth are you doing here? Has something happened to Joan?" Louisa stammered, feeling her heart lurch as she looked at his dear, familiar face.
"Why won't you take my calls Louisa? I only want to check that you're alright, for God's sake. I think I'm entitled to know that," Martin thundered.
"I think you gave up any 'entitlement' when you moved away Martin," Louisa retorted, determined to give as good as she got. "Which is fine, because you're getting on with your life, and I am fully aware that it was my choice to have this baby, not yours. But you could at least do me the courtesy of not interfering and allowing me to get on with mine. As I told Joan, I'll inform her when the time comes with regard to the baby, and she can then pass on the news to you, if that is your wish." Louisa rubbed her back, trying to ease the pain had kept her awake last night.
"What did they say at the hospital? Joan said they might be keeping you in, so when I couldn't get hold of you, I thought… I assumed…" Martin glared.
Louisa heaved a big sigh. "You'd better come in, don't want the whole neighbourhood listening to us rowing do we?" She held the door open for him to step in."Sit down. I'll make a pot of tea. I don't really do coffee I'm afraid." Louisa pointed to her little kitchen table and chairs. Maybe if he sat down he wouldn't seem quite so large and intimidating.
"So what happened at the hospital? How are you? Any pains or other signs?" demanded Martin, desperate to find something out at last.
When he hadn't been able to get hold of Louisa the previous evening, he hadn't been able to stand it any longer. At least when he'd lived in the village he'd been able to watch her from a distance. It'd always been possible to find out how she was just from listening to the village gossip, even when she hadn't been talking to him.
But in London, it was the 'not knowing' that had driven him crazy, and in the end he'd had one of his 'sod it' moments. He had to find out what was going, he had to get away from London, especially as he'd been due to have another of the demeaning retraining session with the loathsome Adrian Pitts clone.
So, he'd rung Auntie Joan, informing her of his impending visit, instructing her to make up the spare bed, but not to wait up as he wouldn't be arriving until sometime in the early hours of the morning, so she should leave the key in the usual place.
Then he'd packed a few things, jumped in his car and headed down to Cornwall, having left a short message for his secretary, stating that he'd been called away on urgent family business.
He'd passed Louisa's house on his way to Joan's farm, and had been relieved to see her bedroom window open, meaning she was there, not in hospital. But as it'd been nearly one in the morning, as much as he wanted to see her, he didn't think she'd appreciate such a late visit, so had decided to call back first thing in the morning.
So, here he was.
"They decided to wait and see if anything happens over the weekend. They think my backache is a good sign, might be early labour, but I don't know - just seems like backache to me. Otherwise, I go in on Monday to be induced. If that doesn't work, then it will have to be a caesarian." Louisa filled Martin in with the bare facts as she made the tea. Then she restlessly paced up and down, as sitting was just too uncomfortable.
Martin stared intently at her. Cornwall had been enjoying a rare August heat wave, so Louisa was wearing just a flimsy nightie with a thin dressing gown slung over it but not done up, concealing very little of her figure. He couldn't take his eyes off her huge belly and swollen breasts, and didn't have to be a doctor to work out that she was ready to give birth at any moment.
Louisa saw Martin looking and realised with some embarrassment that she really wasn't wearing very much at all.
"Look, I wasn't expecting visitors, so while you drink your tea, I'll just go and get dressed, okay?" Louisa headed for the stairs without waiting for his answer.
"Fine, but I still need to talk to you," Martin called after her.
"Great. More lecturing, no doubt," Louisa murmured as she slowly made her way upstairs.
As she got to the top, she felt an odd sensation in her belly, then something warm trickled down her legs.
"Oh God, NO! It can't be, not now," Louisa wailed.
"What is it, Louisa? What's the matter?" Martin shouted as he rushed up the stairs.
"My waters have just gone," she admitted, feeling panicky, but pulling herself together at the sight of Martin coming up the stairs.
"Are you sure?" Martin quickly realized that was a stupid question when he saw the state of her. "Oh right… yes…well…umm…"
"I just need to sort myself out, then I'll ring the Maternity Unit and see what they suggest I should do." Louisa tried to appear a lot calmer than she actually felt, suspecting that this had been brought on by the shock of seeing Martin. Trust him to have this effect on her, bloody typical.
Martin noticed that Louisa's hands were trembling as she rang the hospital while he impatiently listened to her side of the conversation.
"Yes…right... okay…yes… it'll take me at least an hour to get there…yes…fine… see you then."
"Well?"
"They think it would be a good idea for me to go in now ,even if the contractions haven't started ,as I'm quite a way from the hospital, and I'm a week overdue. I've got an arrangement with Tommy's Taxis, so I'll give him a call. He's agreed to take me whatever time of day or night, just as long as he's not already out on another call," Louisa informed Martin.
"Don't be stupid Louisa. I'll take you. It'll be much quicker than calling for a taxi," Martin insisted firmly.
Privately, he admitted to himself that he was scared. He'd left to avoid all this, but here he was, taking her to hospital after all. Well, hadn't he decided to come back, be a man and finally face up to his responsibilities, instead of running away? He just hadn't had a chance to speak to Louisa about it all, and now events were taking over.
Louisa quickly weighed up her options. Tommy might not be available straight away, he might already be out on another call. Martin was actually here and offering to take her. It really didn't make sense to stubbornly turn down his offer, just to prove she could manage by herself.
"Okay, if you really mean it. I need to take that bag by the door, and the baby seat – it's to bring the baby home in," she explained as she made her way to the door, picking up her keys and handbag as she went. "Everything is locked up, so let's go."
Martin quickly put the things in his car as Louisa slowly walked over. He held the door open for her, but as she went to get in, she doubled over.
"Ow…ow... the contractions have started!"
Martin looked at her in horror, before pulling himself together.
"Umm… just remember your breathing exercises. I'm sure they'll help," he offered.
Louisa shot him a black look, then got into the car once her contraction subsided.
As they drove to the hospital, Louisa's contractions got stronger and closer together. Martin kept looking over at her. He was timing them and they were now every two minutes.
"Just bloody drive, Martin," Louisa snapped, when he helpfully informed her how close the contractions had become. She was gripping the car dashboard for dear life.
They reached the hospital in record time. Martin didn't care how many speeding tickets he got, not being keen on the idea of Louisa giving birth in the car.
At the hospital, he parked right by the maternity entrance in the consultants' space, then rushed in to get a wheelchair, quickly assessing that Louisa would be unable to walk unassisted more than a few paces.
"Hurry up, Martin," yelled Louisa, as soon as he reappeared.
He wheeled her into the Maternity Unit reception area, where she shouted her name to them.
"Ah yes, Louisa Glasson, we're expecting you. I'll just get the midwife," the receptionist smiled.
As the midwife appeared with her patient notes, Louisa shouted.
"I want to push, NOW!"
"Okay, let's get you in and see what's happening," the midwife said calmly. "Is this your birthing partner? Your notes say you're not having one."
"Change of plan," Martin asserted firmly, with a lot more confidence than he felt.
The midwife looked at Louisa for confirmation.
"Yes, I guess so. Oh God, I need to push," Louisa screamed as another contraction hit.
In the delivery room, the Midwife confirmed that Louisa was fully dilated, and ready to push with her next contraction.
"I think you've been in slow labour for quite a while - that's what your backache was. Now that your waters have gone, it's all systems go," she explained.
Martin stayed out of the midwife's way. He'd only delivered one baby before, so thought it best to let the midwife carry on.
"You BASTARD Martin Ellingham, I HATE you, it's all YOUR fault, I wish I'd NEVER met you, you son of SATAN." Louisa screamed out in agony, holding onto Martin's hand so hard that he thought her nails must be drawing blood. He didn't dare complain however, as he tried to ignore the torrent of abuse that was pouring out of Louisa's mouth. He knew she was in excruciating pain.
The midwife didn't turn a hair. She'd heard far worse over the years.
"Just put all that energy into pushing as hard as you can. The sooner you do, the sooner your baby will be out," she said calmly. "Come on, I can see the head, big push now."
"I can't do this, I can't do it, it hurts too much, make it stop," Louisa whimpered.
"Yes you can, the harder you push, the quicker it'll be over," Martin tried to encourage her.
"YOU try pushing a baby out of your privates, Mr Know-It-All," Louisa snarled.
Another contraction hit.
"Come on really big push, good girl, keep it coming, that's it the heads out!"
Then the midwife's voice changed.
"Hold on Louisa, the cord is round baby's neck. This is very important, don't push for a moment, just pant."
"I have to," moaned Louisa "I can't help it."
"Pant, Louisa, little breaths. This is really important." Martin insisted, realising the danger.
But then he looked down and saw with relief that the midwife had managed to slip the cord over the baby's head.
"Okay Louisa, push away, baby should be out with your next contraction," the midwife instructed.
Louisa groaned loudly, as the baby finally slid out.
"There we are, well done. It's a boy!" the midwife announced, holding him up for Louisa to see, but then quickly cutting the chord and rushing him over to the special resuscitation unit on the side.
Martin could see the baby was very blue and not moving or crying. The midwife was rubbing him with a towel to stimulate him, while pumping oxygen into him with a little face mask.
"Come on, little man, come on," she muttered as she worked on the baby.
"Why isn't he crying, Martin? What's wrong?" Louisa cried out.
Just as Martin leapt up to go and help, they heard a splutter and a cry, as their baby took his first indignant breath. He moved his arms and legs in protest at his arrival into the world.
"There you are! He's fine now," the midwife beamed with relief as she quickly wrapped him up and passed him over to Louisa.
Martin looked down at the precious bundle in Louisa's arms. His little screwed up face carried on crying, but he was getting pinker by the second. Martin felt an overwhelming sense of relief that their baby, his son, was going to be alright.
Later on, when things had calmed down, Louisa shamefacedly apologised to Martin as she gently cradled the baby.
"I'm sorry for all the things I shouted at you. I didn't mean any of it."
"Don't worry. I wasn't really listening anyway," Martin told her gently.
"I'm really glad you were here," Louisa smiled.
"Me too. Can't believe I nearly wasn't. I've been such a fool, Louisa." Martin's voice shook as he struggled with all the emotions he was finally allowing to surface.
"Well, never mind all that now. How long can you stay before you have to get back to London." Louisa had to know to, to prepare herself, steel herself to let him go all over again.
"I'm not going back. To quote a phrase of yours 'they can poke their ruddy job where the sun don't shine'. I'm coming back to Cornwall," said Martin to a speechless Louisa.
This was where he belonged, with Louisa, with their child. He knew that now, without a shadow of a doubt.
Martin was coming home for good.