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The Fearless Prince and His Faithful Hound - Chapter 1
Monday
Martin marched down Manor Road with one mission in mind. Pauline had forgotten part of his supplies at the pharmacy, and he couldn't start seeing patients in the morning if he didn't pick up the proper sized gloves and other sundries.
Just before the bottom of the hill, that nasty ball of fluff that was always sneaking into the surgery came rushing at him, barking. He just knew it would bite him one day. He summoned enough anger to kick out at the dog and continued walking, but the dog circled around him and continued barking. Martin zigzagged, and continued to hurry towards the pharmacy. Although the barking continued, it seemed to remain behind him.
Once inside the pharmacy, Martin waited while Mrs. Tishell finished with another customer. Of course, it dragged on an extra couple of minutes, because the people in this town could not resist gossiping.
When it was finally Martin's turn, as expected, Mrs. Tishell started flirting with him.
"Hello, Dr. Ellingham," she cooed. "I was wondering if you'd like a cup of tea and we could discuss the latest issue of the MHRA?"
"No," said Martin, instantly, not caring if his answer sounded rehearsed. "I'm in a hurry."
"Oh, that's too bad," she replied. She tried not to sound disappointed, even though his negative answer was expected. "Perhaps another time. How can I help you?"
"Pauline forgot part of my supplies order at lunchtime."
"Yes, yes. She did seem rather in a hurry." Mrs. Tishell now breathlessly hustled to the side counter and retrieved a package, which she then handed to Martin. "I was planning on bringing them to you when I closed. I'm sorry they were forgotten."
She was disappointed that she couldn't have closed sooner to carry out that plan.
Meanwhile, Martin was glad he'd gotten here when he did, knowing full well Mrs. Tishell would have brought the supplies to the surgery.
"Thank you," he said, and turned and headed out the door.
As Martin emerged from the pharmacy, Bert Large called out to him, with a slight urgency to his voice, "Hey, Doc!"
Martin continued down the alley towards Bert, who said, "Old Mrs. Zimmel's come a cropper. Twisted her ankle, I think. I was leaving the restaurant, saw you near her place, heard that dog barking, but you disappeared 'round the corner. She has ice on it now. Louisa is with her, but I thought you should have a look."
They had continued in the direction of Manor Road. Mrs. Zimmel's cottage was a short distance ahead on the left.
Hearing Louisa's name, Martin was momentarily distracted. He wondered how she had ended up there. Bert had probably called her, no doubt. He always interfered with the most easily led in Portwenn.
They entered the cottage after knocking, and Martin approached Louisa. She was sitting on a coffee table in front of a small couch, on which Mrs. Zimmel reclined. Louisa looked at him and smiled. "Hello, Martin."
"Louisa," he answered, with his usual softness when saying her name. She looked effortlessly beautiful.
"I was actually walking up to see you at the surgery, when Bert came out of here and asked if I could help with her sprained ankle. He was off to find you, and, I see, he did." Louisa had stood while speaking and now indicated that Martin could move to the coffee table to be closer to his patient.
"I'll be off," she said. "Don't want to be in the way."
She and Martin moved past each other in the small parlor, and he caught a whiff of her shampoo, she was so close.
"You don't have to go," he said. He didn't want her to leave.
"It's okay. It's nothing, really. I'll catch up with you another time." Louisa could see his disappointment, but she wanted to be able to talk with him alone.
After Louisa left, Martin tended to Mrs. Zimmel's ankle. It wasn't serious, but she was grateful for his care.
He then walked back up the hill to the surgery to spend another evening alone.
Later, he was at his desk, working on a clock, when someone knocked on his kitchen door. It was Louisa. He smiled slightly as he invited her in.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," she said.
"No, not at all. I was working on a clock."
"I've read how specialised that is. There aren't that many who can get old clocks back in working order. It's a pretty special talent you have."
"I, um, well…" Martin never was good at receiving compliments.
"I'll bet you're good at it, because of your surgical training," Louisa said.
"I hadn't thought of that," he said with a small frown.
Not wanting to bring up any bad memories, Louisa changed the subject.
"I owe you an apology, Martin," she began. "I heard you invite me out for dinner, before all that nastiness with my father and Jonathan, but you have to understand. Whenever my father shows up, I am filled with suspicion."
"And rightly so, it seems," Martin interjected.
Louisa sighed. "Please let me finish. I am not sure you would have spent much time with my father beyond that introduction, if his horrid friend hadn't shown up. It's all my fault…" She trailed off as she went to sit at his kitchen table.
"No, Louisa. You couldn't have known," Martin soothed. He sat next to her.
"But I did, Martin, for years. Everyone said he took that money. Everyone. But I wanted to believe him. So, I always let him in, always let him stay. He could have chosen any other harbour, but he knew I'd still make him feel welcome, and he thought he could use that as leverage against the villagers."
Martin had taken her hand as he gently said, "Louisa."
"You know," she said, "I really don't want to think about it anymore. I am done with him, done with that. I came here to accept your invitation, if it's still on offer," she said hopefully.
He quickly answered, "Yes, of course."
"I'm glad," she said, and she got up to leave.
Martin tried to think of a way to get her to stay. "Um, would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you," she answered. "I try not to drink it too late in the day. Even the little bit of caffeine in decaf keeps me awake. Just let me know where and when."
She seemed in a hurry, so Martin reluctantly let her leave. If only he hadn't promised the clock to its owner by the weekend... He never was very good at planning dates.
He locked the door, shut off the kitchen light, and returned to the clock.
End of Chapter 1