Aloha

by robspace54

The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin, are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.

Thank you for reading and reviews are much appreciated.

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Sometimes leave taking can become an arrival.

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I took a deep breath and pushed open the shop door, carrying parcels in my arms, while juggling my handbag, and a wet brollie.

"Oh here, miss, let me," a woman held the door open wider so I could get inside.

"Thanks," I replied, dazzled by the sheer whiteness of the shop's walls and contents, plus the blue-white tint of the high intensity lighting from the ceiling.

The woman holding the door looked at me curiously; from face to the carton in my hands to my ring-less finger over to my waist then up to my eyes. "Well, have a nice day," she said and went out, the door closing behind her.

I squared my shoulders, tried to quell my fears and approached the shop counter.

"How can I help you?" asked a very bright and chirpy woman who dressed like she was twenty in a slinky and short black dress, but the wrinkles around her eyes and at her neck sent my age estimate closer to fifty; mutton dressed as lamb. Her name tag read Josie and she looked like a Josie.

How can she help me? Well for starters get me out of here! Send me back to that fateful day.

Martin took the envelope and started to open it but watched me in puzzlement.

"It says that I love you, and I really do… but."

"I know," he said. "I wouldn't make you happy."

I shook my head. "No." That was the truth; the truest thing I would ever know in my life. I'd not make him happy.

He looked at me sadly, or at least what passed for sadness on Martin's face. "You wouldn't make me happy either."

What? That was a bit of a shock to hear but I suppose he felt what I felt. "Oh… right. No, I don't suppose I would."

"Is that why you're still here then?"

"What? Sorry, Martin I'm just a bit confused."

He pointed to the sofa. "I thought if I just… sat there… and… uhm, it would be in your best interest."

My face grew hot for fear had notched up to anger. "Humiliating me as I stood in the church alone would be in my best interest, would it?"

"You weren't going to be in the church."

"At least I had to decency to write you a letter!" Now I was gritting my teeth trying to keep my voice level and calm but I felt anything but.

"That's not the point," he blustered.

Then that fool of the village dry cleaner interrupted moaning about his leg and babbling about our wedding and honeymoon; neither of which would happen.

That was my cue for a quick exit. "I'll leave you to it," I told Martin then went out the front door.

But he followed me outside. "Louisa," he called to me softly.

I turned and looked at those eyes of his; the ones that could be harsh and soft – soft at that moment with a bit of a squint. "I know. Me too," I managed to say. Sorry, sad, upset, and muddled, all that; that's what I meant, so I stretched up, kissed his cheek then leaned back. "See you around."

Then I turned and walked away, for if I did not go, I never would. My nerves were stretched tight, ready to snap so I didn't look back, not afraid of what I might see, but I knew if I looked at Martin just then, I'd have run back, begging forgiveness.

I was jerked back to the present. "Now how can I help?" the not-young Josie asked me.

"Ah…" I said. How to begin? "I have this dress."

"And you want it altered?"

"No. I… I uhm, saw on your website that you buy dresses."

"We don't deal in old dresses," she told me firmly.

I put the boxes on the counter and opened the larger. "Here's the thing, I have worn it, for about an hour, maybe less. Barely sat down in it. And it's not old for I bought it in Truro last fall."

"Truro?" She shook her head in puzzlement. "Let me guess? He jilted you."

I had opened my mouth to answer but closed my mouth and nodded at her. "Something like that. Truro, out in Cornwall."

She stared at me for a moment and stole a quick glance at my waist. She nodded sideways at an older lady across the way. "Let's talk to Susan, the owner."

"So anyway… I have this dress… and I'd like to…" my voice broke as I spoke to the manager. "Right. Sell it."

"I see," Susan said softly, looking at me with understanding eyes. I'd managed to sit calmly in front of her desk and draped my coat across my lap, not that it helped.

I waved my hand over the white dress, neatly folded into the box between layers of tissue paper. "I've taken very good care of it."

Susan pursed her lips.

"I even have the shoes," I tapped the shoe carton. "So I wondered… if you'd give me decent price for them."

"I… uhm, I gather things…" she raised her eyebrows.

"No. We decided to call it off – both of us." I was over a hundred miles from Martin and was still defending him.

Susan called over the saleswoman and they had a quiet conversation. "What say we take this in the back and have a look?" Susan told me at last after they had fingered the material and peeked at the shoes.

"Fine," I replied. "Good."

She glanced at her watch. "Perhaps you might come back in an hour, hour and a half, or so? We have a fitting in a bit and we can look at it after."

I took a walk back out in the rain and ended up in a pub. At a snug table out of the way I drank an orange squash and nibble crisps for it was a bit early for wine.

The rain came down and down, a typical London winter day and the cold and wet fit my mood. I fiddled with phone, stared out at the rain, and tried to shift into a more positive mood. Selling the wedding dress would be a step in the right direction.

"You think I should?" I'd said to Holly.

Holly laughed and slapped her hand on the table. "Heavens yes! Why'd you want to keep it?" We were in Holly's favorite pub but I found it all a bit posh and the prices were very dear. Holly swirled her expensive white wine. "Ditch it as fast as you can girl or into the bin with it."

"I couldn't just… bin it."

"Not like you'll use it again."

That made me stop. "Holly, I really don't think you can say that."

"I don't see you running down to Cornwall anytime soon, or have you done so behind my back?" she smirked.

"Now you're being horrid," I told her as I leapt to my feet and went home.

So that was the thing for it was horrid. I paged down the contact list on the mobile and at the 'M's' stopped. Martin it read…

"Martin," I sighed at it.

"You okay luv?" the barman called to me as I was his only customer.

"Fine," I lied.

"Want tea?"

"I would. Tea would be good."

He smiled. "Nothing quite like a hot cuppa on a cold day."

I smiled at him but what he said brought it back.