Right
By robspace54
The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin, are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story places 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.
A word of explanation, since I have decided that it makes sense to me to attach these single-chapter tales into one story. If that's confusing to you, I apologize.
I drew back my hand and knocked on the badly painted and cracked door, the many coats of paint indicating both the age and ill care that had been taken for many years to put it in this state. There was a shuffling sound inside but no answer, so I knocked once more.
It was drawn open hurriedly and I saw a dark-haired female head bent down fiddling with a brown handbag. "Sorry, Holly - running a bit late is all." The head swung up and the startled face of Louisa Glasson, the former Head Teacher of Portwenn Primary stared at me. "Martin…" her lip sprang between her teeth. "You're here."
My people skills are lacking in some respects, but I could see she was confused to see me. "Yes, I came."
"Oh… I was…" she stopped, "going out." Then she sighed as her eyes panned down and saw I what I was holding. "Oh, your case."
"May I, ahem, speak…" sweat trickled down and pricked my eye. "Only for a few… uhm, my suitcase. Yes, I've just come from Paddington and…"
"I see." She pressed her hands against her light purple raincoat, "And you've not been to the hotel yet."
I nodded.
"Well, come in then. The place is a bit of a mess." She turned and retreated into a small bedsit, stuffed with a few boxes and tatty furniture. She dashed over to a small alcove where a small bed was jammed and pulled the rumpled covers up. "Sorry about… all this."
I managed to get the door closed behind me, wedging my case into the corner. The place was small, with a single narrow window admitting the sodium glow of a streetlamp, a narrow counter piled high with dirty bowls, plates and glasses, with a microwave, chipped sink, and mini-fridge at one end. A rump-sprung sofa, wardrobe and dresser, an ancient table, two mis-matched chairs and a single floor lamp completed the furnishings. Her laptop computer sat open on the scratched table next to a packet of chocolate digestives, half-filled tea cup and pile of books and papers which I assumed was schoolwork.
"Well," she forced a smile turning from the rumpled bed. I'd seen her kick crumpled knickers and bras under the bed while I inspected the room. "So, here I am."
"Yes."
"And here you are." I saw her face almost break. "Uhm, you were going out. I don't want to…" I breathed deeply. Roger Fenn had told me this would be difficult. "Stop you… if you're going out."
Her eyes were guarded. "Just meeting Holly - my friend Holly."
I nodded. "How's her spine?"
"Fine, I think. She did need surgery; you were right."
"Ah, yes." We stood there like fools not knowing what to say and I certainly did not come here to talk about her horrid friend Holly. "I hope she's forgiven me for almost killing her."
"You did save her life, Martin. But you did bruise her sternum"
"Cardio-pulmonary resuscitation will do that. She'll heal," I snapped. "Uhm… in time, that is; that takes time."
Louisa lowered her handbag to the single table. "You want to stay, and talk I suppose."
"I do." I gestured to the rusty steam radiator. "Bit warm in here if you're going to keep wearing your coat." It was misting outside and cool, a very typical London late December.
She looked at me suspiciously. "Yeah, okay." She hung it on a hook, and then transferred a pile of books from the sofa to a small table. She sat down, her back rigid; feet and knees together. Her hands twisted together nervously when they weren't pawing at her hair. She looked like she was sitting outside the head master's office waiting for punishment.
She wore a green dress I'd seen before, and though her face looked slightly pinched, she must be eating more than adequately as the garment looked - well, tight. The beige sweater she had draped over her shoulders I also recognized along with the thin gold chain and garnet necklace that graced her slim neck.
"Uhm…" I wrinkled my nose as the smell of her filled rubbish bin got my attention.
"Sit down Martin. Please?"
I drew over one of the battered wooden chairs and sat on it, finding it tippy.
"Sorry, Martin, that one's a bit wonky, the other one may be better."
I switched chairs (this one creaked) and now I was even closer to her, our knees just two feet apart. "Uhm… I…"
"Thirsty? Tea or water?" she started to get up but I waved her back down.
"Ate on the train."
"Ghastly. Stale."
"Yeah." The air was hot and stuffy. "How are you?"
"Fine, fine." She looked away then pushed her hair back which she was wearing down tonight. "You?"
I made a vague motion but said nothing.
"Oh." She shifted her feet and chewed at her lip. "So this is my bedsit. Like it? Know it's not much, but… it… suits me," she said slowly and with obvious discomfiture.
The walls were a dingy shade of blue above the once white baseboards that must have last seen paint during the Crimean War. There was a patch of discolored plaster over her head that showed that here on the fifth floor the roof was none too watertight.
"Sure you wouldn't like tea? I can't offer you any espresso."
I lowered my eyes. "Tea would be fine."
"Just bought milk the other day, so it hasn't gone off yet. Gave it a sniff earlier."
"That would be…" I searched for a different word. "Nice," came out. "Two sugars."
"Right." She started to rise.
"And your new school?" I was grasping at what to say, all my planned speeches now rubbish.
She slouched back to the worn cushions. "It's okay; not quite like my old school of course."
I rubbed my hands along my trousers, trying to dry the palms. "The uhm… students?"
"Good kids; good parents, oh the odd one or two that… No, that's not right!"
"What's not right?"
She looked to the wall then back to me. "You didn't come here to talk about my school."
I nodded. "Yes, that's, uhm… you can, if you want to… your school."
"Okay," she said slowly.
We sat there trying not to look at one another, our faces four to five feet apart. I don't know how long we held that silence.
Louisa broke first. "So… how's the village? Bert still pushing along with his restaurant? How are Joan and Roger? Your aunt? And…" her voice faltered. "Heard they got a bit of an odd one for a Head Teacher now. And winter is settling in."
"All, good. Auntie Joan is fine; she asked me to say hello."
"Hello, then."
"And Roger and Maureen and the babies are…" I paused, "healthy. The weather is…cold."
"Ah."
She sat there a few seconds. "I should call Holly; tell her…"
I stood. "You've made plans."
"No, no. It's fine, fine." She got her bag and made the call. I tried not to listen but there was nowhere to hide. "Holly! Louisa! About tonight… uhm, I can't come. What's that? Yes, I know this is the third time I've called it off. Oh? Holly?" She closed the phone slowly. "Rung off. That's that."
I watched as she lowered the mobile and tucked it away. "Tea. Just take a sec." She filled a glass carafe and tucked it into the micro then started it, nervously tapping on the counter. "Sorry, Martin."
I stood at her elbow and inhaling said, "Kenzo Flower."
"You do remember."
"How could I forget?" I stepped closer to her. "Louisa." I held her in my eyes and God I had missed her.
She turned, eyes wide open. "Martin."
I sighed and looked past her at the wreck of a bedsit. "What are you doing here?"
"I might ask the same, Martin."
"I'm… talking to you, Louisa." My collar felt tight. "I'm…" I had to sit.
The microwave pinged and she drew out the container and touched the side. "Needs more time." She sighed and restarted it. "Not a very good piece of equipment. The one in my house," her voice stopped, then she went on sadly, "worked a hell of a lot better."
Hot saliva suddenly filled my mouth and I gulped.
"Martin?" Louisa said alarmed. "Something wrong?"
I gazed up at her, her beautiful face in this horrid bedsit, looking down at me in concern. "Yes."
Louisa stood frozen waiting for an answer and I had to stand up; face her at last. "I'll tell you what's wrong. You being here in this smelly cramped room," my nose wrinkled. "And…"
"And?" her eyes were very wide as she looked up at me. "And just what exactly? You think this is some high-handed move on my part? All for some weird feminist point-scoring? Do you?" She stamped her foot. "Damn it, Martin!" she cried out striking the counter with her palm.
I sighed. "We were wrong you know; so, so wrong."
She glared at me. "Were we? We were wrong to end up here, I mean me in London and you in Portwenn? That what you mean, or just us, Martin? We're all wrong?"
"It's what happened, Louisa. It was…" I gulped, "a mistake. People make mistakes."
"What's that?" Suddenly I had her entire attention.
"We… we… Louisa, I'm trying to say…" she took my hand and I had to stop.
"Oh, Martin, we've been through all this."
"Have we? Have we Louisa?" I felt my fingers rubbing hers all on their own. I dropped her hand but she took mine in hers interlocking our fingers.
"Martin… I…" she stretched up and kissed me on the lips. "Shh."
"Louisa, we need to…"
"Shh," she kissed me again and it was like being hit by electricity; gentle electricity. It had been two months since we cancelled our wedding and she'd been in London for six weeks. It hadn't been very hard to find her and I hadn't wanted to call on her mobile. The medical records transfer procedure through the NHS gave me her address; my only fear was that she might not let me in or talk to me. Not quite my only fear…
She burrowed into my chest and for a moment I was back in her bed, or she in mine, for the warm feeling was quite the same. "Oh Louisa," I groaned as I slid my arms across her back.
"Martin, there's…" she spoke into my neck, "something, I need…"
I felt warm tears on my shirt collar and they weren't mine. "Oh, Louisa, no, don't do that," I said softly and earnestly.
"Martin…"
"Louisa," I tipped her head back so I could see her face. "No. Listen to me. You running away was madness and me staying put was madness. We're both…" my voice cracked, "wrong, so very wrong."
She peered up me her eyes brimming. "Martin, I need to tell you…"
"No, I'm telling you that you must, simply must come back to Portwenn. The, uhm, school needs you! This Mr. Strain is making a total hash of things and the Governors are on the verge of sacking him. No one is happy; not one single person is happy with the school…" She stared at me with a disappointed look. I gulped and mumbled, "Or, with me; us."
"What about us, Martin? And there is another thing."
"No," I tapped her lovely lips with a finger. "No. I've been conflicted far too long. My Auntie Joan says… no, damn it! I… need you. I need you, Louisa! You must…"
Louisa sagged against the counter. "Oh God. Martin, I… don't know what to say."
"Yes you do, Louisa. I love you. I can't bear to be without you. Marry me, for real, this time."
Her head sagged. "I need to tell you Martin, that…"
"Louisa, I know that some will say we're chalk and cheese, even Joan says that we are, but I do not give a damn about them, what they think, what they say. ALL I care about is…"
The microwave pinged and cut me off.
"Tea," she said and peeled herself out of my arms and started to rummage about for two clean cups. "Must be here somewhere. Oh, yeah. Got 'em." She set out a white bone china cup and a yellow mug with one of those stupid smiley faces on it. "Knew I had a couple more." She dunked two tea bags into the carafe and said. "Three minutes."
"Tea bags – I prefer loose."
"I know, Martin. It's what I've got." She found two spoons and a roll of paper towels. "Not much of a setting is it?" she grinned. "But," her voice fell, "what I've got."
I closed my eyes and exhaled through my nose in irritation.
"What?" She had turned to face me, one hand bobbing the bags up and down in the hot water.
"I should go," came out and it wasn't at all what I wanted to say.
"Oh. Right." Her eyes lost that expectant yet wary look and were now dull and lifeless.
I turned to my case. "I'll just go to the hotel." I had my back to her with hand on the door when she called my name.
"Martin?"
"Yes?"
She picked up her handbag and pulled a small carton out. It was mostly pink with yellow writing and it only took my baffled brain a second to know what she was holding. "Martin, I haven't been well lately. So I bought this."
"That's a home, erh, a home pregnancy test." I started to sweat. She could be, she might be, I rapidly calculated, lord. Yeah, she just might be.; we only had sex three times… but oh my.
"Very observant Martin."
"Years of medical training."
She nodded. "I haven't used it, yet, but before I do, I need to say something."
"But you might be… the, uhm, test," my voice froze waiting for her words.
"Do you know why I left?"
I sighed. "I told you I wouldn't make you happy and you wouldn't, likely… make me… uhm, you know."
"Part of it." She sighed and hugged herself.
I could tell that her bust must be larger, the way they looked under her arms… oh, stop it Martin! "Go on." She very well could be pregnant.
"I ran away… uhm left…"
"Because of me, it's my fault."
"Martin, I was taught at age eleven, if not before, that running away is how the Glasson's deal with problems. We run away! We should all be marathon runners for the way we run…" she stopped, "or want to."
"So you left and then what?"
"Martin, I am bloody miserable and I lied, the school is horrible, the kids are all smarmy and their parents nasty, too much money with that lot, and I've been sick, and in this awful bedsit…" She sniffed and stopped.
"What are you saying?"
"I miss the ocean, Martin, and noisy seagulls, and Portwenn school, and pasties, and... you know."
"I'm sure they'd have you back, the Governors. Stu Mackenzie told me as much this morning."
Her eyes were wary. "A job would be good."
"What else, uhm do you miss?" Before I could say more, she jumped on me with a fierce hug.
"Oh, you stupid, stupid, man!" She kissed me full on the mouth. "I miss you, Martin!"
There was no doubt from the way in which she was crushing me that something was… "Louisa, when you left…"
"Shh, Martin, don't spoil it."
"But…" I freed my lips, "Louisa…"
"No, let me finish! I hate London; the smells and the crowding. But worst of all is you're not here."
"You mean that?" She was saying it but I was unsure if I believed her.
"Martin, I love you. I think I always have; since you diagnosed my glaucoma. You were gruff, rude, mono-syllabic, but well–meaning."
"I try to be, erh, well-meaning, that is."
Fingers started playing with my hair. "And over time, well… I wanted to know you better and saving Peter Cronk…"
"Emergency surgery in the back of an ambulance is hardly the basis of a lasting relationship Louisa." I tried to get out of her embrace but she held me fast.
"And Martin, I am sorry I slapped you."
"I deserved it, both times; both for the bad breath comment as well as the erotomania. I was…"
"Scared?"
I nodded. "Not very good with people, am I?"
"No," she shook her head, "but you could learn."
"I suppose I could." I looked intently at her staring eyes. I did want her, or else why did I come to tell her that?
"So what you think? About us?"
I waved a hand at the pregnancy test on the counter. "You say you think you're pregnant. Uhm… is… there… anyone…?"
"No, Martin. Only you."
"Shouldn't you… take it? For if you are… best you should be avoiding shellfish, alcohol, get onto a regimen of pre-natal vitamins, exercise…"
"I will," she sighed, "I will. In the morning." Louisa squeezed me tight and buried her face in my chest. "Martin," she mumbled, "we need to sort things."
"Damn straight we need to! Louisa, I have to say…"
She looked up at me. "Martin I do love you. And I need help, from you, so we can…"
"Be together."
She nervously licked her lips. "That what you want?"
I sighed. "Why else would I have taken a five hour trip? Just to talk about your new school and this awful room you've let? God Louisa! I…"
"I love you Martin; I do, I really do."
"And," suddenly there was not much air in the horrid room, "I love you."
I kissed her softly and that said so much, for as I kissed her, she kissed me back! So we stood there hugging each other for I don't know how long and that was exactly the right thing to do.
