Christmas Day

by robspace54

Written purely for entertainment purposes and no infringement of any copyright by Buffalo Pictures is implied or inferred.

Sometime after Doc Martin Series 2, Episode 8...

The school holiday had come at last and I needed a break. The school term was filled with all the usual drama of a primary school – illnesses, absences, a teacher who quit and the hurried search for a replacement which so far had come up empty. Who would want to move to Portwenn in December with the grim winter ready to set it? So far I was juggling both being Head Teacher and subbing for the year threes and I was both frazzled and knackered. I was really looking forward for the time off.

I was clearing away three months accumulated mess from my office desk when Sally Chadwick came in. "Still here?" she asked. Sally had stepped in to help out with Maureen on maternity leave and with having Fenn's twins odds are she would not be back any time soon, if at all. Sally was a good and hard worker and she'd been a real bulwark lately.

"Just trying to get a handle on all this," I waved my hand at the piles of debris. In some way my desk reflected my own affairs, after Danny had been sniffing around and he had finally gone. And then there was… Martin. Where did we stand?

"Plans for Christmas," Sally asked. "You must come over on Christmas Day. I did ask you three weeks back and so far, you haven't given me an answer."

After the last six weeks all I really wanted to do was sleep.

"Oh come on, Louisa!" Sally urged. "My girls and their guys are coming down, plus some of the other teachers and their lot will be stopping in. Nothing fancy – just come over for a bite, a drink; I've got some very good red laid in, and spend the day. We'll even watch Doctor Who!" she laughed.

She knew that I enjoyed that telly show. "Okay, fine."

"About two?"

"Can I bring something?"

"Just yourself and it is casual. Jeans and a jumper." She pecked me on the cheek. "You need a break, uhm… after everything." She winked. "Been a chore, eh?"

I'd not poured my heart out to anybody, but my turnabout from Danny to Martin and the upheaval of Julie Mitchell and Mark Mylow and Martin being found hangover and asleep on his kitchen floor had provided far too much fuel for the gossips.

And then there was the erotomania thing. I was NOT stalking Martin, just interested, and yes I did tell him I loved him. That was mere hours after he'd said the same to me, plus that I was beautiful. He deserved the slap I gave him; I still felt that way. "Oh yeah," I sighed.

Sally relaxed. "Any motion on the Doc Martin front?"

I shook my head. "Doctor Ellingham is very professional, Sally, don't… don't get any ideas."

"Okay. See you Christmas then. Aren't you glad the school pageant is over? When Billy Wilson forgot his lines and the parents laughed, I'd thought he die right then and there. Poor kid. I really liked how you just went out on stage, whispered to him and he suddenly remembered. What did you tell him?"

Bill Wilson was our head shepherd in the Christmas pageant and he totally muddled up. What I told him was simple and direct and it worked. "Oh," I smiled at her, "just an old teacher's trick." I told the kid I was confident he could do it... and he recalled all his part and did a fine job from there.

"Keep your secrets, then. See you Christmas Day." She left. "Tah."

So after the weekend and I'd slept like the dead for a whole day, I felt refreshed enough to get over to Wadebridge and shop. A new dress for myself and a mystery I fancied and new jeans I found, which just a hint of stretch to them, fitted me like a glove – perfect for Sally's party. There was also the other thing I found and on impulse bought it.

Christmas Eve the weather was foul, blowing with rain, but the next morn the clouds had gone and the sun was pouring down out of a cloudless blue sky. It was cold and I bundled well up in my dressing gown as I hunched over a light breakfast. I did enjoy a good lay in and I just lazed around until it was time to shower and dress. Having no demands on my time for the whole weekend had done wonders for me – body and soul.

The new jeans I wore with a soft powder blue cardi over a white cami, and I was sitting down on the stairs to pull on my boots when I saw Martin go marching past the window. He was wearing his Burberry as it was cold, but there he was bare headed, but he didn't have his medical case with him. All the shops were closed so where was he off to?

Sally's prodding had been nibbling on me, so without thinking I went to the door and threw it open. Martin was not fifteen feet away, heading uphill, when I call to him. "Martin!"

He stopped and turned. "Louisa?"

And there we stood staring at each other. Well not quite staring as I was biting on my lip and he had his head cocked slightly quizzically and perhaps a little nervously.

I managed to ask, "Going somewhere?"

"Uhm, no…" He paused. "Taking a walk."

I crossed my arms as cold air chilled me. "Cold out."

"Nothing wrong with clean cold air."

True I supposed, but the air was giving my sinuses an ache. "Makes my head hurt."

"If that's the case," he came towards me, "you should wear a coat, and not…" he waved at my attire. "Plus a muffler, and hat with gloves. You can wrap the muffler about your neck and cover your mouth, which will warm the air before you, uhm…" he stopped. "Breathe through it."

The cold air froze my throat but it wasn't the chilled air that kept me silent. How could I talk to this very capable doctor about us, without delving into a medical lecture – every time? I nodded. "Sure, sure."

He sighed. "Louisa, about the… uhm… thing. I apologize."

I stepped out and touch his left cheek. "Sure, sure. I see there aren't any lasting scars."

He looked stunned.

"That's a joke, Martin and well, just wanted to say, Happy Christmas," I said as a last-ditch effort.

He nodded. "I see. Yes." He squinted up at the sun. "Bright."

A little voice told me to do something before he went away. "Going to see Joan?"

"Dinner. Later."

"I see."

"Just walking."

I looked up and down the empty street. "You want to come in for a minute?"

He paused. "Something wrong?"

"No, no," I backed into the door. "Come on in. I'm frozen." He slowly followed me inside and I closed the door before all the warmth was sucked from my house. I pushed my hair back from my face where the cold breeze had blown it. "Windy."

"Yes," he looked around.

"Oh, here give me your coat."

He shucked out of his overcoat to reveal his usual natty attire. Today's was a gray suit and pale blue shirt with a deep blue tie, with thin pale stripes.

"We look like we match," I blurted out. "Blue?"

"Uhm, yes… I suppose." He looked like a scared rabbit. Did he think I was going to eat him or assault him?

I got a whiff of a very faint aroma of deodorant and aftershave and I reacted. "You smell nice."

He shrugged. "It's from a bottle Auntie Joan bought me last year." He winkled his nose. "Don't much care for it."

I leaned over and took a bigger whiff. "Smells very nice… very…"

He peered at me quizzically.

"You, Martin. It smells like you." I cleared my throat. "No nonsense – straight forward – that's you. That's what people like about you." I turned from him my eyes wide. What the bloody hell was I blathering on about? In desperation I saw the tin of holiday biscuits one of my more troublesome student's mum had sent to me. "Have a biscuit? I know you don't think much of…"

"Yes," he said. "That would be nice."

Miracle! "And I bet you're cold as well. Tea?" I went into the kitchen.

He peered down the stairs. "Don't go to any bother."

I picked up the kettle and shook it. "I'll just heat this and we'll have a cuppa."

He didn't bolt and came down stairs.

"Why don't you sit on the sofa?"

He looked at it. "Fine." He went and sat down like he was being strapped into an ejection seat. His arms and legs were straight, feet flat on the floor and pointed forward but his head turned to the glass doors. "Nice view."

"I like it." I started the cooker and the kettle started to sing. "See? In a jiff."

The cottage was silent but for the wind blowing outside for a minute. Then he touched his tie. "Louisa…"

"Yes?" I piled a platter with biscuits and crackers from the tin.

"You…"

"Yes?"

"Uhm, how has school been? I've seen a lot of students and parents with illness."

"The usual, yeah. Runny noses, lurky, and coughs. Mr. Coley has been running around like mad trying to keep our school clean."

He grinned. "Short man, old, mismatched shirt and tie, and battered trainers."

"That's him. Irwin Coley."

"I saw him last week."

"Is he okay? Sometimes he can be… forgetful."

"I can't discuss my patients, but… he is well… had a cut to his thumb which I was able to seal. No stitches required."

"Yeah, I saw a bandage on his hand."

"Told him to keep it dry."

The kettle started to sing. "I'll pour out. Even got some loose tea."

Martin almost smiled. "Good."

I snagged two mugs from the cabinet, steeped the tea in my ceramic pot, and poured it. "Sugar?"

He was staring at the floor. "Hm?"

"One or two? Lumps? Milk."

"One," he said. "Yes."

I dropped the sugar lump in his mug, took two myself, added the milk and handed his mug to him. "Cheers."

He clinked mugs with me and drank. "That's good."

"Orange pekoe. Don't see how some can drink black tea." I shuddered. "Ugh."

He nodded. "I usually have coffee – espresso. I take that black."

"Right." Take a note Louisa. Coffee black, but tea white. "Biscuit?" I offered him the plate and he took a tiny plain one.

I hankered after the chocolate ones or the huge ones coated with frosted sugar, but I held back. "Going out later, myself." I leaned against my kitchen table.

"Oh?" He bit into the biscuit and rolled it around. "Nice."

I didn't know if he meant the biscuit or my going out. "Uhm, Sally's. You know Sally Chadwick?"

He looked away. "Middle-aged? Blonde? Buxom?"

Clearly Martin had a system to remember people. "That's her. She's been helping out with Maureen gone. I hear the babies are fine."

Martin sipped at the tea. "Yes they are."

I sat down on the sofa at an angle just two feet from him, closer than we had been for weeks. I cleared my throat. "You said you were going to Joan's?"

"She's probably hacking the head off one of her chickens as we speak."

"Yeah." I wrinkled my nose. "I could never stand to see that."

"Me either," he said.

He and I drank some more. "Another biscuit? More tea?" I asked.

He held up a hand. "I'm fine."

"Yeah," I smiled at him encouragingly, "me too."

He stood up suddenly. "I'd better be… off."

"Oh?"

He pointed at his watch. "Told Joan I'd be there soon."

"Ah, yes," I said sadly for things seemed to be going not badly. He was at the door and shrugging into his coat when I remembered.

"Martin! Wait!" I clunked my mug down on the table and dashed upstairs.

I was rummaging through the pile of things on my dresser when I found what I had bought.

"Louisa?" he called up the stairs. "Something wrong?"

I pulled it out of the plastic bag, stuffed it into a gift bag, which had held another gift from a student and clattered back down just as he was putting foot to come up. "I…"

"What?" he said as he buttoned his Burberry.

I held out the bag. "I found… bought… well I was in a bookshop and they had an old book section… and thought…"

"What?"

The bag was creased and the handles a bit tatty. "It's for… uhm, yo... you," I stammered. "Not exactly a Christmas present, but since you are here…"

His face softened. "You bought me a gift."

"Didn't cost very much and it is a bit musty," I said, grabbing the railing to give my other hand something to do. "So… take it."

He warily took the bag and reached in and pulling out the old book I'd found, his face broke into a smile. "Oh, Shell's book – Techniques of Surgery!" He thick fingers opened the cover. "York - 1823."

"Thought you might like it. The cover's a bit tatty, but the pages look like they are all there."

He turned his pale blue eyes to mine with delight. "Louisa, this is…" Suddenly he moved closer, kissed me on the cheek and then sprang back. "Uhm… sorry… I mean…"

I smiled at him. "I'm glad you like it. And the kiss was fine, really. No problem." He actually kissed me. Another miracle! I leaned towards him and he flinched.

"Yes, I do… like it…" his face fell, "the book, I mean… you…" he gulped. "Didn't have to."

I peered up at him. "I knew you'd like it… the book."

"I've… nothing for you!" He rubbed the cover and I wished he was caressing me in the same way. "Louisa… I hope… this must have cost a fair bit! You shouldn't have."

"That's okay, Martin. It was an impulse buy. When I saw it, I knew you'd want it. Cost doesn't matter… if you like it."

"I do, oh I do." He looked at his watch. "I really must go – Joan will be waiting." He fled to the door and stopped. "Thank you for the tea and the biscuit."

"Any time and… Happy Christmas, Martin."

He opened the door and looked back. "Yes, Happy Christmas, Louisa."

Then he was gone, but as he headed downhill towards the Platt and home there was a spring in his step that had not been there earlier. Like Billy Wilson, Martin had some confidence.

At Sally's house I was all smiles and it had nothing to do with the wine I was drinking either.

"You look awfully happy, Louisa," she told me when she was showing off her crèche display.

"Been a good day, Sally. Good wine too."

She clapped her hands. "I'm glad, so glad. I've seen how rundown you were getting."

"Yep."

Sally looked out the window and said, 'Oh there's goes the Doc in his fancy car. Lord he can be nasty! I heard tell he tore a strip off old Mrs. Hawes the other day."

I craned my neck and saw Martin glance up at the window and saw his face brighten as he saw my face, or so I hoped that was the reason. "Oh, I don't know Sally. Sometimes…" I had to stop and take a deep breath, "sometimes he can be quite… human. You just have to catch him at the right time."

Sally looked from me to the retreating car and back. "A Christmas day miracle, I suppose."

I sipped at the red wine and knew my eyes were twinkling. "Yeah," I told her, "something like that."