Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story is a work of fanfiction and in no way presumes any ownership of or intrusion upon the rights of the copyright holders of Doc Martin, its characters, or story lines.
- - - Sometime after Series 6, Episode 8 - - -
Louisa was saying, "I really don't know what we're going to do!"
Martin twitched his medical journal as Louisa nattered on.
"Did you hear what I said?" she asked.
"Yes." Martin looked up at his wife, who was clutching a pile of school papers to her chest.
"Ideas?"
"I suppose you'll have to cancel."
Lousia put hands on hips as she glared at him. "Cancel? Cancel? Oh come on Martin, even you know we can't do that."
Martin shrugged. "Find someone else then."
"Well just who? Bert's played Father Christmas for ages!"
Martin sighed. "It's not my fault that Bert fell and sprained his ankle."
"I know, I know. Poor man will be on crutches for weeks."
"I told him that climbing on chairs was a danger."
"He told me that Al borrowed the restaurant ladder for some work at Morwenna's. Good thing he's got Jenny to take care of him. He was only putting holiday lights on the restaurant."
Martin grumpily flipped a page.
Louisa plopped the pile of papers down on the kitchen table, then came to the sofa and sat down next to him. "The children will be so disappointed."
Martin lowered his journal to his lap. "What about Chippy Miller?"
"He'll be down in Perrenporth to visit his cousin. We need someone who's big, tall, got a loud voice…" Louisa put her hand on his knee and patted it. "Perhaps… someone, well, like you."
"Certainly not!"
Louisa smiled playfully. "You could be, with some padding around your middle, and a fake beard."
"Eddie Rix then; he's fat enough."
"I already asked him. But Eddie has a black eye; told me he bumped into a door."
Martin groaned. "Likely not a door, perhaps a…"
Louisa raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Nothing," Martin muttered, for he knew that Eddie and his wife still played rough bedroom games.
"Eddie is certainly accident prone. Last month I heard he picked up a nasty burn."
Martin tried to go back to reading his journal but Lousia had him in her sights.
"But, Martin we have to have someone play Father Christmas for the Grotto. I even asked Mr. Gibson."
"Who?"
"Melanie's dad, but he said that was his karate night; but every night is karate night for him." She turned her face to Martin and loo0ked longingly at him.
"Don't look at me," he huffed. "Out of the question."
Louisa grinned then leaned towards him and kissed his cheek. "We'll see."
"See... erh, just see what?"
She chuckled, "Like I said…" Just then a soft cry broke into the patter of rain on the house. "Oh, James is awake." She sighed. "Not much of a nap on a Saturday."
Martin stood. "I'll get him."
Louisa clutched at his knee for a moment.
"What?"
"I…" she hugged his leg. "So glad we're…" she cleared her throat, "together."
"Yes," Martin sighed, then lightly stroked the hair on the crown of her head. "Counseling…"
"Has worked pretty well, don't you think?"
Martin crouched down to peer into her blue-green eyes. "I…" he cleared his throat, "yes, I do."
She put her arms around him and was starting to kiss him deeply when James gave out a long wail of frustration.
She ducked her head. "Oh the joys of parenting…"
Martin whispered, "Perhaps later," then he went upstairs to rescue James Henry from his cot.
James was standing holding onto the top rail, then let go of the rail putting his arms up in the air. "Da-da, uppy."
"Yes, James. Good. Two word sentences. Very good. You might work on 'Dad pick me up.' But you are making headway." Martin hugged the chunky boy before he checked his diaper. "Yes, it is dirty."
When Martin and James came downstairs, Louisa was holding her mobile frowning at it. "Problem?" He asked her.
"I've talked to Joe – he says he has to be on duty 24/7 as Christmas is a perfect time for perps to rob houses. Al's too busy working at the B&B and fixing up Morwenna's house, and Joe's out, I can't count on you…"
"Louisa, I just don't think that I can."
"Why not?"
Martin found himself face to face with his wife and son who both looked at him disapprovingly. "I…"
"We can put a fake beard on you; use a pillow or two…"
"Now Hold on! Wait just a minute! What about…" he snapped his fingers, "that Mr. Ruggles?"
"Who?"
"Uhm, heavyset, tall, high forehead."
"Oh," Louisa laughed. "Russell. Tim Russell. Already asked. But I do mean it. Yu could do it, if you wanted to." She looked at him beseechingly. "But we'll see."
Martin moaned for those words from Louisa usefully meant that he'd already lost the argument. "Now look… I can't think of anything in my entire life I'd rather do less!"
"Martin!" Louisa told him. "It's for the kids… the children." She came over and hugged him and James altogether. "Please?"
He sighed. "What about Mr. Coley, the school custodian?"
"Too prickly, and no he won't; I've already asked him."
"I suppose Stewart James is out of the question."
Louisa smiled. "Or maybe his friend Anthony. No Stewart doesn't like crowds."
Just then Louisa's mobile rang so she answered it. "Hello?"
Martin and James regarded one another gravely. "How about apple slices and some milk?" he asked the toddler who nodded vigorously. Martin put James into his chair, belted him in, then went to refrigerator and half-listened as Louisa talked.
"Yes, this is Louisa Glasson; no, Ellingham now. I'm married. Yep. Last year."
Martin put his hand on the milk carton and a small apple.
"Oh my God," Louisa said with concern into the phone. "No. Really? Oh…"
"What's happened?" Martin started for her knew that sound in her voice it was never a good sign.
She waved him off. "Yes, I guess we could."
Martin stood there holding the fruit and the milk while James cranked his head around wondering where his snack was. "Louisa, is something wrong?"
"Okay," she said into her phone. "Yes. Okay. Right then. Fern Cottage, Rosscarrock Hill, Portwenn. Right, right. Okay, thanks. Bye." She slowly lowered her mobile. "That was the prison."
"Your father?"
"No some official or other." She set her phone on the table and started to softly weep.
Martin put the food on the counter then knelt down by his wife. "What's happened?"
Louisa wiped her eyes with a shaky hand while her shoulders shook. "May I have a tissue?"
Martin snagged one from the carton and gave it to her. "What's happened?" The counsellor had held two private sessions with Martin about Louisa's parental issues. Her mum was selfish and self-centered and her father – a petty criminal – was serving time. Of course he'd dealt with both Terry and Eleanor and would just as soon they'd never have shown up in the village. Now there was clearly more sorrow for Louisa.
Louisa blew her nose. "Dad."
"Terry."
Louisa nodded. "Oh Martin… he…" her pink lips quivered.
"I am… sorry," Martin told her guessing how bad the news must be. "How old was he?"
She shook her head. "No Martin, not that. Dad's," she inhaled deeply and blew the air out slowly. "Dad's being released. He got..."
"What? Got what?"
"Parole," she said, "and he's coming here. I… I said he could stay come here for a while." Her eyes looked at him in alarm. "I said he could stay with us, Martin. I hope that's alright."
"Oh God," Martin said to himself but aloud he said "That would be fine."
Louisa shook her head. "I hope so," she replied, then nervously bit down on her lower lip.
