Just for a Laugh

By Presca

Saturday, May 29, 2010

It's early morning in the lovely, little community of Portwenn on the Northern side of Cornwall. Already there are signs of life as trolleys bob on the whitecaps just off shore, retrieving their nets brimming with fish. The sounds of the waves lapping at the white, sandy beach were only momentarily broken by the call of the gulls flying overhead. On each cliffside stood tiny houses that no doubt have been here for centuries, weathered only by the elements., sprinkled across the landscape in a picturesque setting. It was little wonder so many folks called this place home.

Except for perhaps one, who was still getting used to the notion. Dr. Martin Ellingham or as most folks liked to refer to him as – 'Doc Martin'. He'd been a GP in the town for four years running now and people were still having a hard time warming up to him – and vice versa. There was a general reluctance for first visits, somewhat dread for seconds and all out avoidance for thirds. Being the only doctor for miles made it unavoidable – for both parties involved.

Perhaps it was the lack of any bedside manner or civility when treating patients who walked through his door, most just wanting a chat and a good cup of tea as they had with the former GP, Dr. Sim. Those notions were quickly dashed within only a few minutes of meeting his incumbent.

Dr. Ellingham was tall and imposing, it was the first thing you noticed about him. His closely cropped light blonde hair now peppered with hints of gray gave his look more severity but yet shone brilliantly in the sun coming in through his window as he sat at his desk. His ginger brow was netted low over his eyes as he concentrated on writing up a prescription for his newest patient, Mr. McInnish, a local farmer with a touch of bursitis.

He took a moment to glance out of the window of his stoic, gray examination room to view the birds hovering near the ocean at the edge of the overlook. His soft, slate blue eyes turned gentle as a slight smile tried to tug at the corner of his full lips. He stopped himself, but ended up staring out the nearby window anyhow. Sniffing disdainfully, he rubbed his upturned nose, for he swore he could smell the heather on the breeze even though the window was closed.

Sometimes he forgot himself and had to admit Portwenn really was truly beautiful in it's own way, nestled between the nearby rolling hills. People had grown up here and in truth, so had he when he often vacationed at his Aunt Joan's.

He smiled finally to himself at the memory, briefly as he could feel a sense of calm settle over him.

That was until the door to his rooms suddenly opened and an elderly woman he'd never seen before walked in to stand before him.

"You Doc Martin?" She asked.

"Yes," he replied, trepidatiously.

"Right! She told me to cut to the chase, as you don't care for formalities – so…" she declared.

Without warning, she loosened the band on her light-blue polyester trousers and pulled them down around her ankles. Turning around, she moaned him with her rosy buttocks.

Dr. Ellingham's eyes grew large in shock.

"Pauline!" He screamed, jumping up from his seat to open the door to the reception lobby. "Madam, please kindly pull up your britches and take a seat! Pauline!"

The room was already full as it usually was at midday with the mixture of locals coming by for chat and the odd one or two to actually see the doctor.

She turned hearing her name with dread in her heart, the 32-year old wondered what she'd done this time. He was rarely happy, but ever since the school teacher Louisa Glasson had left him to work in Worcestershire at a prestigious middle school, he'd become more insufferable than ever.

Pauline had her curly, strawberry blonde hair up in a simple bun held in place with a colorful scrunchie. She had on a loose, shear brown blouse that was forever falling down one shoulder and not the other – something that irritated him, but he didn't mention it. She had on a simple, spaghetti strap beige shirt tucked into her rather elaborate, maroon colored gypsy skirt and ruffled underskirt. She tucked her feet under her chair and he observed maroon socks in her platform sandals which she twitched in nervous energy as she continued to listen to him.

The doctor had warned her about her decided lack of decorum which was growing progressively worse as time went on.

"Yes, doctor – what is it?" She whispered, looking off in the distance as if trying to ignore him.

He was wearing his light grey tweed and crimson tie that actually suited him somehow, she didn't need to look more than a second to take him in – her powers of observation were parallel to the doc sometimes, but she didn't boast the fact.

"I would kindly remind you to call me on my line or at least schedule new patients in my inbox calendar before you just ask them to barge into my office unannounced! Have you never used a calendar before?" He barked at her.

She just rolled her blue eyes at him. "Yes, I do know how to make appointments, I have for you for years."

"Oh really? And when ever do you find the time between painting your nails and surfing the web all day?"

She glared up at him, a look of more a sense of fatigue than actual anger crossed her emerald eyes as she pursed her frosted lips slightly. "If I had something more to do, then I wouldn't need to, would I?"

He ignored her and instead turned to the others in attendance, most with stunned looks – and considering it was Portwenn – was the normal appearance.

"So does anyone here actually have a medical condition?"

No one said anything for a few moments until a timid voice said.

"I think I may have the bubonic."

Martin looked dumbfounded.

"You mean the plague?"

"Uh – yes, I that's it!"

"Right!" The doctor declared, ignoring the patient – he turned on his heel and went back to his office – slamming the door.

Pauline just looked up and sarcastically blew him an unseen kiss.

(Sunday afternoon, around 4:30 PM):

Due to the fact that most Sundays tended to be quiet, Martin sat in his office alone, catching up on paperwork.

Pauline had the day off – so it actually felt more like a mini vacation.

His office normally was so dark that he sat contemplating it for a moment and at last stood up and crossed over to the front room to sit at Pauline's desk where a gentle breeze blew from a window nearby.

It was to be one of those days, where no matter how hard he tried – he simply found he couldn't concentrate.

Looking over her desk, he noticed her little iPod – a gift no doubt from Al as it was new. He turned it on after playing with it in his hands for a moment, immediately a playlist she'd saved began to play and some hip hop filled the room. It said Beyonce on the display, obviously the woman singing.

What kind of name was that anyhow? Beyonce? American. Yet, despite his first objections, he began to tap his foot in time with the tune.

He picked it up and eyed it contemplatively for a moment and found that he couldn't help but smile, it was so dainty, as if it would only fit her hand. He thought about her expression earlier that week – perhaps he'd been a little hard on her. He shook it off, if she had only shown a little care in her job…but at least she wasn't her cousin Elaine.

A picture came up on her screensaver, some shots no doubt of her personal album. He watched in fascination as they changed every few seconds. Smiling, relaxed and confident, she posed on the beach in what looked like a life vest – no doubt her coastal training. Laughing with Bert at his restaurant – almost without even having to try, he could hear her laugh in his head – he sort of liked it, but he'd never admit it in a million years. It was definitely contagious. He had to admit, she was sort of cute in her own way.

"Oh God!" He cursed to himself as he felt uncomfortable for a moment, looking away and scratching the back of his neck. Could it be that he missed Louisa? What was this coming over him – that was the last thing he needed…

But, he couldn't help himself – looking around the room self-consciously as if she might be hiding watching him somewhere, he began to snoop around her desk some more.

His conscience got the best him finally and he decided it was best just to go back to his own desk. Shutting off her iPod he gathered up his paperwork and walked into the back office.

(Next morning):

Pauline came along through the winding streets of Portwenn as folks went about their daily business on her cherry red moped. It was something she got not too long ago with some winnings from a lotto game she played, one of the best things to happen to her in quite some time. She beeped at people playfully as she zipped along.

Arriving at the practice, she parked in her new spot alongside the stone steps leading up to the old stone house that had now housed the only doctor in town.

She hoped he'd be in a good mood today, but she knew it was a pipe dream and that the stark reality would hit her as soon as she stepped through the door.

Depositing her helmet neatly under her arm, she knocked the kick stand out on her bike and walked around the front entrance and then hopped up the steps. As she did, she noticed Bert Large, Al's father already waiting for her by the front entrance – he was early today. She loved the man, he was like her second dad – correction, her only father as her own had run out on her and her mom before her eighth birthday. She smiled slightly as she saw him.

"Bert, here for your back? How ya doin'?" She replied gently, taking his arm and opening the door to help him in.

"My lover, it hurts like the dickens, but you know what they say – a little pain means you're alive, so I must be the luckiest bastard in the village, eh? Is the doc in? Do you think he would have time to see me? The back is giving me grief today, just a little hitch, shouldn't have been lifting those crates."

"I can check his schedule, come on in," she said coming into the front waiting room, sparse but familiar, she threw back the curtains near her little desk in the corner. Bert took a seat in the window seat in front of her desk and watched her go about her daily routine.

The word 'schedule' got her skin up a bit from her argument with Dr. Ellingham the day before but she instantly dismissed it. She had to develop a thick skin working here, usually she was a peaceful person, but she knew how to hold her own.

"Anything would be fine, Paul. How are you holding up by the way? I mean, it's been like five months since my boy left to go back to see your cousin again – you doin' alright? It's been rather more of a struggle running the restaurant without an extra hand," Bert said, constantly chatty as he always was.

"I'm fine, Bert, thanks," she answered, dismissively and sat down at her desk. She then glanced up at him and tried to brave a smile, but it looked false and she knew it. She brushed back a lock of her reddish hair in irritation as she switched on her PC.

As she did, that's when she noticed it – the things on her desk –

They'd been moved…

"What on earth…?" She whispered in shock and started touching them, incredulously.

"What's wrong, darlin'? Some celebrity in London in town? You know who I would love to see – hmm – that Kylie Minogue. Now there is a celebrity…"

"No, someone has moved my stuff. It wasn't me – that means…"

"Oh come now, I don't think the doc would mess with your desk."

She glared hard across the room to the doctor's office, his door still closed.

"I wonder if he's checking up on me," she snarled and started rearranging her belongings with a rather angry look on her face.

Then, she brought up her calendar.

"Bert, he's free at the moment, but I think I need to talk to him first. Can you wait here? I may need backup!"

He looked unsure what she had in mind, but knew he was always there for a damsel in distress. "I'm here for you, honey, you do what you have to."

"Thanks."

Getting up, she took a deep breath and went to the doctor's office and knocked on his door.

"Yes! Come in!" Barked a familiar voice on the other side.

Pauline opened the door and walked in.

"Bert is here to see you, there is no one else waiting outside," she mumbled. Her voice was dispassionate.

Dr. Ellingham didn't even look up at her as he said.

"Very well, send him through."

But, she stood her ground, not moving from the door, even as Bert stood up hearing his name. She turned to beg him to sit back down and then continued to glare hard at the doctor, her arms crossed in front of her.

He glanced up to see her sour expression and couldn't for the life of him why she wasn't letting Mr. Large in.

"Pauline, move aside and let Bert in the office!" He demanded, his voice enunciating the words as if she were a twelve year old.

"Did you move my things?" She replied, point blank and still not moving a muscle.

He looked up at her as if she were mad. "Things?"

"Yes, that's right – my things! On my desk! My stuff! Did you snoop through my desk?"

His reaction was immediate, he'd been so careful to put stuff back where they belonged – he never thought she'd notice. Certainly more fastidious than he realized. In guilt, he looked away and started to stare down at his desk.

"You did! I can't believe this! That is my only sanctuary in this entire office! You have every other room – the kitchen, your office, the upstairs. I have one spot, a tiny little hovel near the window!" She snarled, but even as she did, her voice still didn't raise in pitch. She was remarkably calm for how angry she really was.

"I don't know what you're talking about…" he muttered and still didn't look at her. He couldn't admit it.

"I can't believe you. I mean, you don't pay me enough for this for starters!"

She was definitely related to Elaine, there was no doubt.

Dr. Ellingham looked rather sheepish, unable to look her in the eye. Pauline didn't perceive it as guilt – to her it was his usual rude way of dismissing her.

But, this time he was to win as she threw up her hands.

"Fine! But, I want a padlock for my desk!" She snarled and waved her finger at him.

He looked a bit intimidated as he glanced up at her, still unable to respond.

Turning on her heel, she stalked off in the opposite direction – only to realize she was heading for the kitchen rather than her desk by mistake. Doubling back, she instead headed past the doctor's office for the front lobby.

It was the doctor's next reaction to her that set her off again – this time totally out of character for even him – out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw him smile.

Stopping, she looked up at him in surprise.

"Do you think I'm funny or somethin'?"

Now Bert was observing the pair in fascination, getting a front row seat.

"No! Pauline don't be absurd – now, please let Mr. Large in for his appointment!"

She just walked away in a huff and went to fetch him.

As Bert stood, he suddenly caught her elbow as she passed and gently pulled her aside.

"Paul, my love – do you feel like a wager?"

"Bert, I'm not going to run down to get you some meds from Mrs. Tishell!"

"No, no – not that! How would you like to make 60 quid?" He asked her, his eyes glowing.

"Bert!" Shouted the doctor from his office, growing impatient.

"Just a sec, doc! Honey, if you can make him laugh – I mean a really good, ole belly laugh in three months – I'll give you the money, but remember – someone has to witness it!"

"Bert! You don't have that kind of money like that!" She complained.

"Now, now – 'ye of little faith – I'm only offering this once."

Finally, she relented.

"OK!"

"That's my girl!" He said, grinning at her. He patted her on the arm and went in to his appointment.

What had she just agreed to?

(Later on that afternoon):

As Pauline sat at her desk, trying to find something to preoccupy herself from the monotony, her mind drifted once again to Bert's wager.

Make him laugh.

Was that even possible?

A smile at her expense was one thing, but anything more than that was asking too much!

Did he even have a funny bone in his body, aside from the occasional sarcastic barbs that were often decidedly cruel in nature?

Maybe if she were to take the local stray dog and dangle it by its paws over the village pier…

Suddenly, she noticed that the office had grown strangely quiet and that there were no more booked appointments until tomorrow.

Glancing up at the doctor's office, she saw that his door was ajar and he was sitting motionless at his desk. He seemed to be looking off into the distance, his eyes glassy.

No doubt dwelling on Louisa. Poor man.

For a moment, her heart went out to him. Things had never been easy for him since he arrived in Portwenn. Now one of his main sources of comfort had left him. He had only his Aunt Joan left.

She felt horrible for her earlier outburst and decided to go in and apologize.

Knocking softly on his door, he glanced up to notice her standing there.

Clearing his throat, uncomfortably – he collected himself.

"Pauline, what is it?"

"I – um – I wanted to say sorry for yelling earlier."

He nodded and quickly said. "Ah yes, thank you.

She stood awaiting for his own apology, but could see there was none forthcoming.

"Apology accepted," she said, under her breath.

"Sorry?" He asked, not hearing her, but gathering from her bitter tone – he figured she was trying to be sarcastic.

"Close enough," she quipped.

He opened his mouth to protest, but decided it wasn't worth it and looked away.

"So – packin' it in for the night then, eh? Quiet day today."

"Yes," he replied, and started to absently work on some paperwork on his desk.

"Big plans for the weekend?" She continued to ask, trying hard to make small talk.

He sensed it right away and instead didn't answer her.

"I hear kite surfing is quite the thing."

"Kite surfing? In Portwenn? Are you mad? Do you have any idea the amount of injuries incurred from that reckless endeavor that they deem a sport? Half of the population of this village would perish before they figured out how to maneuver the kite!"

"I was just making conversation!" She snapped.

"I see," he replied and went back to his paperwork, solemn as ever.

Pauline sighed and knew that there was no point to continuing. But, she added one last thing.

"Well, if you ever need someone to talk to…"

"Mmm…" he mumbled and just ignored her. "Goodnight, Pauline – lock up when you leave if you'd please…"

"Fine," she grumbled.

She walked to her desk and gathered up her coat, without another word, she left the office – careful to lock the door as she did behind her.

It was Martin who looked up for a moment to absorb her comment about having someone to talk to. She had no idea how much he had to hold back from accepting her kind offer immediately – draining his pain still keen in his heart to her over two cups of freshly brewed tea.

…But, he didn't – instead he went back to his paperwork, which was nothing more than a grocery list for the clinic.

(The following Sunday):

Pauline lay back in her large, iron-cast bed in Al's old room, listening to the regular street commotion just below her window as the sun came in to cast rays upon her soft linen nightgown. Lifting her hair up slightly, it sprayed down on her pillow as she laid her hand on her stomach and stared up at the ceiling, the reflection from their nearby ocean making it look like it was shimmering above her.

This wasn't her place – it was Bert Large's. He'd had been exceptionally kind in letting her live since he left, knowing how callous her mom was and how difficult it had been for her to live with her anymore.

Yet, still there were reminders of Al wherever she was in this place and each day never got easier. She could see his clothes he'd left behind to keep in storage still in a closet near her own. His electronic gizmos and stuff he'd been working on for hobby on the bureau. Even the indentations he'd left in the bed where he always slept on the right hand side of her.

Pauline closed her eyes for a moment as a tear slipped down her cheek.

Why had he gone after Elaine? She never cared about him. One word and he was half way around the world looking for her, hoping to win him back. Was it because she was more flirty? Younger? More energy?

All she knew is he wasn't here anymore.

"Tosser!" Someone shouted outside her window.

Pauline suddenly turned over when she heard the curse and knew that it could only mean one person was passing on the street.

Jumping to her feet, she peered discreetly over the window sill to see Dr. Ellingham marching indignantly past the resident to his place up the street, a blue stripped bag in one hand. As he did, he couldn't help but feel someone's eyes on him and looked up to see Pauline watching him from above.

He didn't smile or acknowledge her, but for a few minutes stood there and stared at her. His mouth quivering and his eyes changing expression just for a moment. Then he continued on, tripping a bit at first.

She watched him in curiosity. Why hadn't she at least been polite and waved?

Though she guessed perhaps because in her heart she knew it was a wasted effort.

Watching after him for a few minutes, she at last got up and sat down on the end of her bed. Now all she could think of was him and it was a welcome relief.

What did she need to do to crack the armor of that man? What made him tick? What got to him, effected him? She needed to make him laugh. More over, she needed the money.

Running across the room, she grabbed a notepad she kept for writing friends and began to take notes on what she knew about him. It became a checklist.

1. He's lonely.

2. He doesn't like animals, especially dogs.

3. He speaks very little about himself.

4. He has one living relative in the area, his aunt, Joan Norton.

5. He owns a Lexus.

6. He's clumsy.

Looking down at her list, she realized it wasn't much to go on and not very flattering. There had to be more to him than this – after all these years, was this the best she could come up with?

She tried to stretch what she could first see of him on the surface and think a bit deeper:

1. He's kind of scared of who he is. He's a good guy under it all.

2. He wants to say things, but holds back.

3. He loved Louisa, so he is capable of caring for someone.

4. He fears blood, it's probably stress not the phobia.

5. He likes me, but he doesn't want to admit it – and I think he likes me helping him.

She laughed at the last one. Did she really believe that?

Pauline decided she really needed more to go on. But how?

Time to do a bit of research on the dear doctor, she decided to recruit the help of his Aunt. If anyone knew more about the doc, it was certainly his aunt.

(Later, on the farm on the edge of town – the home of Joan Norton):

As Pauline pulled up on her moped through the tall, yellow grass along the road, she could see Joan going about her daily routine as she tended to her flock of chickens. The elder lady heard her and looked up in surprise.

"Pauline! What are you doing all the way out here?"

"Oh hi Mrs. Norton. I just thought I'd come by and you know – see how you are and such. Do you have a minute?" She asked, trying to sound light and friendly.

"Of course, dear, come on in – I'll put us on a pot of tea!"

"Grand!' Pauline chirped and followed her down the path to her small farmhouse.

(Inside after a few minutes, they got settled and shared a bit of conversation over some tea and biscuits):

"So, what did I do to deserve the surprise visit?" Joan asked frankly as she leaned over to re-fill Pauline's cup.

The girl looked a bit fidgety as she stared down at it, rubbing the china design on the side with her thumb.

"I just wondered if you could tell me about the doc," she replied simply, still not really looking at her.

Joan stopped what she was doing and looked down at her. "Martin, you mean? What do you want to know?"

"What he was like when he was younger. Did he have things he liked to do? Friends? Did he have a dog?" Pauline asked, sitting up a bit and her eyes glowing with interest. She then tried to act nonchalant about it. "I mean, just being…"

"Curious? It's alright, dear, you can ask – I'll tell you, I know he won't. It's not easy working with him all these years. It's about time you knew a bit."

She smiled at her, it was so comforting being here – she was nothing like him. Pauline felt as if she could ask her anything.

"He was very shy when he was young, he didn't have many friends. He did have this one boy that almost became a friend of his, but Martin's parents took him away in the summer semester before they had a chance to get close. His name was Eddie I believe, sweet boy. I think he lives in Cardiff now. As for what he liked to do – he often enjoyed tinkering with things around my place, he always insisted on fixing things for me when they broke down. Nothing too dirty or manually challenging – more a sort of fine touch for things like my clocks and such. He liked music, especially when I played jazz standards from the 30s and 40s and also classical. He still listens to that I believe. He never cared much for animals, unfortunately, though I think he secretly formed attachments to some of my horses I had when we raised them with my husband."

Pauline smiled, it was as if she could see the little moments of him playing across her mind. It was a decidedly nice and normal childhood. She wondered what had happened to change that.

"You mentioned that he was taken away during summer semester. Was that right in the middle of the school year? Why did they do that? Didn't they want him to finish?"

Joan turned solemn as she asked and it was then that she knew she'd perhaps asked too much. But, she went on without hesitation.

"My brother didn't want Martin exposed to me, unfortunately. You have to keep this to yourself, only Martin and family know of this – but I had an affair when I was married. I loved Martin, I treated him like a son. But, when my brother Christopher found out – he thought I was socially degenerate and took him away."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, I had no idea," Pauline apologized, putting her hand on the older lady's in concern. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's alright, dear. It's just a part of my life – I'm not ashamed of it, at least not anymore."

She stood up and went to pour some more hot water into the kettle, turning her back momentarily to Pauline.

"Maybe I should just go," she excused, feeling that maybe Mrs. Norton was uncomfortable.

"Pauline, you're fine, you don't need to leave on my account. You have to stay for lunch. I'll tell you more about Martin, if you wish."

She smiled at her and finally sat back down. "I'd like that actually."

Joan stopped and looked down at her, touching her soft cheek with her hand, rubbing the little mole on the left one fondly.

"So what is this sudden interest you have in Marty?"

Pauline blushed wildly despite herself.

"It's nothing like that!" She shouted and then calmed down suddenly. "I just – "

"Yes?" Coaxed Joan.

"He looked like he needed someone to talk to the other day and I wanted to have something to talk to him about when he wants to."

Joan didn't buy it, but smiled kindly at her anyhow. "You're a good soul, Pauline. I'm glad Martin has you working by his side."

She smiled back at her. "Thank you, Mrs. Norton."

"Ah ah – please – call me Joan."

"Joan."

"I know – would you like to see some pictures I have of Martin? In days when he still had his long, wavy blonde locks?" Joan asked and walked out of the kitchen.

Now Pauline was excited. "Ohhh..yeah! Absolutely!"

(That week, Martin is travelling out himself to his aunt's house to drop off some mail he received on her behalf in regards to the ownership of her home. It was something he was still trying to work on settling as she was struggling financially to keep it):

He knocked on her door and immediately she answered it.

"Oh hello Marty, come on in. I put on some lunch. Do you have time to chat?" She asked, walking away from him as he handed her her mail.

"Yes, for a half an hour, then I have some patients back at the office with appointments. The estate agent sent you something…"

He closed the door behind him and ducked as he stepped into her room.

She looked back at him and grinned to herself for a moment.

"You know I had a surprise visitor a few days ago," she teased, a twinkle of amusement in her grayish eyes.

"Oh really, and who would that be?" He asked, not sharing her sense of humor.

"Your receptionist."

Martin stood in his tracks and looked at her in shock. "Pauline?"

Now his aunt was smiling at his reaction. Oh there really was more to this than she initially thought.

"Yes, that's right. She was quite inquisitive about you and your past. So, would you like to tell me what's going on or am I going to be the last one to find out as usual?"

"What? I – I – nothing is going on! Don't be ridiculous!"

His face was beet red, he couldn't help it – he felt both humiliated and a little shaken at the same time. Why was she prying? And, why was his aunt looking at him that way?

"She had no right…!" He tried to protest, but it only made matters worse as his relative's smile grew. "Stop grinning at me like that!"

"Fine, I'll behave myself. But, I've seen you only like this one other time in your life when you came to Portwenn and that's all I'm going to say on this," she chided lightly, still trying to hide her smile.

"Auntie Joan, I have absolutely no interest in my receptionist – romantic or otherwise. Now, what did the estate agent have to say?" He snarled, as he sat down at her kitchen table and refused to discuss the matter further.

Yet, his mind was going a mile a minute. What possessed Pauline to show up here out of the blue and start inquiring about him? What was she up to? Was this revenge for rifling through her desk a few days ago? The woman always did have a screw loose at times, this just confirmed it.

He knew he wasn't going to be able to think straight until he got the matter settled, standing up he decided to take his leave.

"I think I'm going to pass on the lunch."

She looked up at him in shock. "You have to have something to eat, Marty. Sit down!"

"I have appointments, you can fill me in on the details of the letter later."

He walked over and brusquely kissed her on the cheek, moving for the door before she had a chance to stop him.

"Marty? Marty!"

He was already half way to his car before she could say anymore.

Sighing, she threw down a dish towel she was holding and sank into her chair. How he ever got himself into these predicaments with women was beyond her.

(Back at the cottage where his office was, Martin parked his Lexus and then immediately ran for the door – he was a man on a mission today as he rudely pushed the little Jack Russell terrier aside that was following him at his heels):

"Pauline!" He shouted as he came to the front door.

Everyone in the lobby who was awaiting the doctor's return looked up in alarm, especially the lady herself at her desk. There was a definite ominous tone in his voice – she knew he'd found out about her little visit.

Looking around, she tried to find a path of escape, but the door had already open.

Had he been a bull or an ox, there might have been smoke rising from his nostrils as he stepped into the practice.

She saw him glaring at her, his eyes full of rage and knew instantly she'd gone too far.

"Umm…your first patient is here. Mrs. Leonard, you can go in now."

A sweet, old woman stood up, but as soon as she saw the doctor, she made a bee-line for the receptionist's desk.

"You know, dear, I don't really mind coming back another time. Is there a possibility of making it for – oh, let's say, a month's time from now?" She asked, looking furtively at the panicked girl.

"Sure, sure – let's see what we have, Mrs. Leonard."

Folks tried to stand to intercept the doctor with their problems, but he just ignored everyone and went straight for her desk instead.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? Do you have any idea what kind of position you've put me in?" He yelled as he leaned in close, his hands on Pauline's desk.

The older lady was fairly shaking. "I'm so sorry, doctor, I didn't mean to reschedule, we can go on with the appointment as planned. That's fine."

"No, not you! Take a seat in my exam room, thank you!"

She scurried along like a scared little rabbit.

By this time, Dr. Ellingham noticed his receptionist was starting to burrow her way the same way under her desk.

"Oh look at this, there's a loose cord down here!" She muttered, trying hard to disguise her fear as she ducked out of sight.

"Pauline, come up here so I can talk to you properly! What are you doing? I know you spoke to my aunt!"

"It's not safe to leave this here, someone might trip and break a hip. Can't have that now, can we?" She said loudly as she continued to fumble around.

Frustrated, he ran around the other side of the desk to where she had already made a nice, simple nest for herself underneath. He pulled back her chair and got down on his hands and knees to tunnel in behind her.

"You are being ridiculous, come up here this minute!" He snarled, trying to take her hands and pull her forward, but she crossed her arms and refused to budge.

"I'm not coming out there until you calm down!" She snarled and tried to push him away.

"I'll calm down when you come out and talk to me like a reasonable adult!"

What he didn't realize as he took another swipe for her hand was that the little dog he'd managed to usher from the clinic doors had made it's way in through a nearby window and was again at his heels.

As Martin leaned in closer to Pauline, his ankle was bared as his sock came down a bit inside his patent, leather shoe. That's when the dog fondly licked at his bared skin with his tongue.

Martin jumped in surprise and fell face forward into Pauline. He managed to stop just short of her, his nose pressed up against hers and looking her directly in the eye as they were a mere breath away from one another. She hiccupped a bit in response as the words were caught in her throat. She never noticed how nicely gray his eyes were before. He didn't pull away immediately as a profound blush came across her cheeks – covered by lovely, cinammon freckles.

His hands were resting in her lap and it was at that precise moment that he could feel her arms around his back for support.

Coming to his senses at last, and breaking free from her loose embrace – he suddenly sat up on the floor to regain his composure for a moment, he looked over at her one last time, there was a quiet fear there and no longer the anger she sensed before. Then, it returned, like a dark cloud over his expression.

Getting up on his feet, he growled a bit to himself and then at the dog that had caused the scene in the first place. The pooch scurried behind one of the awaiting patients.

Without another word, he strode across the room and slammed the door behind him.

Pauline didn't leave her hiding place for a few moments, still stunned by the small moment. She didn't know what to think with his reaction or her own for that matter.

Finally, one of the patients came around and peered down at her.

"Are you alright, my dear?" He asked. "Do you need a hand?"

"Thanks, yeah, I might," she replied and took the elder man's hand. She brushed herself off and stared at the doctor's door for a moment, quietly contemplating it.

"That's no way to treat a lady, he should be ashamed of himself!" The man spoke up on her behalf.

But, Pauline didn't answer, she just stared at his door.

(Later that evening, once the clinic had been cleared of the day's patients):

Pauline decided to stay well after her quitting time, she knew she needed to clear the air. But, she was still determined to keep the details of Bert's wager to herself. She would think of another excuse.

Deciding to see if she couldn't convince the cranky doctor to join her for some tea after apologizing for her previous behavior – she took a moment before she went about the task to glance inside her desk drawer. Inside, she looked down at a little picture that his aunt had given to her that fascinated her.

It was a picture of Martin Ellingham before he was known as a doctor. He looked about thirty something, standing in a field possibly Joan's with a dark navy blazer on, jeans of all things and a rather stern but quiet expression. What was most interesting was the wavy locks of blonde hair that fell softly around his ears making him look years younger. He actually looked – dare she think it – handsome.

Giggling a bit, she pushed the drawer closed to hide it away and walked across the room to the kitchen.

Martin looked up as he heard someone puttering around in the kitchen. It couldn't be her still – it was quitting time and she always left on the dot.

Getting up, he went to see what was going on only to see Pauline busy making some tea and looking for some cups from the dishwasher.

"It's late, you should be going home," he said, quietly as he came up beside her.

"I know."

He paused for a moment.

"The tea is in the cupboard," he said, as he watched her.

She looked up at him and smiled. She guessed that was his way of saying she could stay.

"What kind do you prefer? I like herbal."

"Rubbish," he grumbled. "Earl Grey."

She nodded to herself. "I'm sorry about earlier, I shouldn't have gone pokin' around and such. I just wanted to find something to talk to you about."

"Why?" He asked simply, looking at her as she worked.

"What do you mean 'why'? I wanted to talk to you is all."

"There is nothing to talk about," he grumbled and then just sat down at his kitchen table, still contemplating her as she went about her business.

"That's fine, we can listen to the kettle boiling then," she replied, smirking slightly. "Want some biscuits?"

"They're my biscuits and you should be asking me."

"Right! Pauline – would you like some biscuits?" She said in a deep voice, pretending to be him. She broke up laughing. "Don't mind if I do! Thank you, doc!"

"Very funny!" He snarled.

She sat down across from him and then just proceeded to stare at him, a bit of a smile coming across her face as she did.

He just looked at her blankly in response. "What?"

"I just – nothin'" she answered and immediately clammed up. "It's – why did you cut your hair like that?"

"What's wrong with my hair? My hair is fine!"

"It looks better longer, more blonde showing. Makes you look more – human."

His eyes grew big. "You saw my pictures?"

"It was your aunt's idea."

"Great!" He hissed and then indignantly stood up and began to pace the room.

"Where are you going?" She asked, thinking he was about to leave.

But, instead he turned and began to rant. "You had no right to go out there to my aunt's farm and pry into my business or hers for that matter! Is this some sort of – vendetta?"

"No!" She cried. "What do you mean vendetta? Like the mob?"

"No, not like the mob! For digging in your desk the other day."

"Which you did do!" She answered, looking as if she was in the right and she knew she was. "Which you also never apologized for!"

"That's not the point!"

"I didn't go to speak to your aunt because of that."

He sat down again, but wouldn't look at her. As he did he heard her mutter.

"An apology still would have been nice."

"I'll buy you a padlock!" He snarled. "And never listen to Beyonia again."

"Beyonce," she corrected. Now she began to giggle a bit.

"Well – yes – whatever her name was."

She couldn't get the smile from her face now as he looked up at her, his face starting to…
"You're blushin'!" She exclaimed.

He jumped to his feet again and went to the kettle. "Is the tea ready?"

"It hasn't even started boilin' yet," she said, plainly. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

"Nothing, I told you that already," he replied and sat back down. It was like musical chairs. Was he always this nervous?

"OK, that's fine. We'll just sit quietly then."

But, that notion just unsettled him. "Umm…about that patient that came in this afternoon, the lab tests…"

"Oh yeah, Mr. Markham. Yeah, he had that nasty cough. What's wrong with him?"

"I can't really discuss patient's confidential…"

"Yeah, you can – I'm your phlebotomist!"

"You're my receptionist, you do that on the side – it doesn't make you my nurse."

She scrunched her mouth a bit in anger, yet she kept her tongue.

"Is there something you'd like to say?" He insisted.

"Yeah, but my mother raised me to be polite around bossy figures," she answered, coolly.

"Authority!" He corrected.

"Same thing!"

They sat there quietly for a long time, a little bit of tension in the air before at long last she spoke.

"Is it TB?"

"Is what TB?" He asked her, looking up.

"What Mr. Markham has? He was asymptomatic for like a year and now he's coughing up a lung. Maybe he's a carrier and spread it."

Dr. Ellingham looked at her in shock. He was surprised frankly at how perceptive she was. "No, I don't think so. And, yes, he has TB."

She looked proud of herself for a moment.

"Oh, and Ms. Carlsen – she has Hep B."

"No, she doesn't – she has rheumatoid arthritis."

"I thought you couldn't talk to me about patients?"

"Yes, well, you brought it up. And, it's arthritis. I've already checked her for it!" He answered, feeling that she was out of her league.

"It's Hep B, that's why she has pain above her ribcage and not below. She had a tattoo when she was sixteen at some shady place out in Truro. She showed it to me."

"Well, why didn't you tell me that when she came for the last visit?"

"Because you said that you can't…"

"Discuss patient's confidential records with you, yes, I know – you won't let that go will you?"

She just grinned at him and it frustrated him even more. Finally he sighed and his tone changed a bit.

"Where did you learn all of that?" He asked her quietly.

"I was a masseuse to begin with when I was twenty, then my mom suggested I work at the local clinic in Newlyn. Yes, it was a vet but it was still a clinic!" She said as she saw him open his mouth to say something about her professional career. "But, I also learned a lot from a doctor there who used to be a gynecologist."

"He went from a medical practice to become a vet?" Martin asked her incredulously.

"He made more money."

"Really?" He asked, now floored.

"He owned four Porsches, I saw them."

"Given your penchant for trying to take over the practice in my absence, I'm surprised that you don't have the same!" He quipped and then suddenly clammed up, as if his attempt of humor had been a little too transparent.

She just grinned at him. "That was one time and the man was bleeding to death, how was I to know you were going to be so late after you decided to hike across the moors."

"You still treated one of my patients without…!" He started to say, his voice rising in pitch again.

She just held up her hand. "Uh uh…we're having tea, remember. There will be no arguing during tea time. I think the water is boilin'."

Going over to the kettle, she took it off the stove and then got two cups out, putting a bag of Earl Grey in each and neatly dropping a spoon into each.

She turned and set them down on the table as he just glowered at her angrily, she simply ignored him. Turning, she fetched some milk from the fridge and a tiny bowl of sugar nearby.

Sitting down across from him, she watched him as he began to stir his tea as if contemplating it or trying to read his fortune.

"You know, you can trust me, don't you?" She whispered at last.

He just glared up at her. "The man had a severe laceration from a meat slicing machine, it wasn't just a scratch!"

"I don't mean that," she answered quietly. "I mean, you can talk to me about other stuff than work."

"Hmmph!" He grumbled and didn't say anything.

"OK, I'll start then…"

But, it was at that moment that Dr. Ellingham rose to his feet.

"I think I'll take this and finish it in my room. Goodnight!"

She wanted to stop him, but decided it was best to let him go. Yet as he was mounting the stairs, he could hear her shout after him.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, you know – I just like to talk to you, even if you don't like talking to me. Maybe someday you will!"

He stood on the bottom step, her words leaving him dumbfounded for a moment. Turning, he went back to the kitchen – but all that was left of her presence was a cup of steaming tea not even touched. She'd left through the back door and was gone for the night.

(Two days pass, and Martin is walking along after picking up some simple things from the corner grocer. As he does, he hears a familiar laugh from the nearby beach):

Looking out to see if he could find the source of the sound, he noticed Pauline coming up on the shore with a group of young coast guard trainees, she was out of breath as she tried to pull the life raft she was helping lead up onto the sand. She giggled as she seemed proud of herself, a few of her nearby friends patted her on the back.

"Good job, girl. What do you say, do you want to go get some ale for your aches and effort at the pub?" Asked a young guy with curly blonde hair.

"Nah, thanks anyhow Matt, I think I'm going to go call it a day. I have to work tomorrow and need my energy," she said and wriggled out of her life jacket.

"Ey, girl. I don't know how ya' do it everyday working with the doc. He's a right, ole tosser – I'd have decked him long ago."

Now, Martin looked up a bit as he hid behind a nearby hedge a little to keep a covert distance and be out of eye shot. But, he listened closer.

"He's alright, Matt. I think he just needs someone to give him a chance sometimes. He's a bear at times, but, I don't know…"

"Just don't be naive, Paul. He'd fire you in a minute if you blink the wrong way."

"No, he's not like that. He needs me. I know it. He wouldn't do that to me."

"Didn't he fire you once?"

She was quiet, Martin's eyes grew quiet as he suddenly felt guilt creep into his bones.

"Yeah, just a stupid misunderstanding – that was my doin' anyhow. Come on, let's go, I don't want to wait until the tide comes and washes us back out to sea."

He sat up a bit and peered at her over the hedge as he watched her. She still didn't observe him there. He saw her undoing her ponytail that was holding her hair back as it fell in loose, copper-colored curls to her frame her shoulders. She kicked off her shoes and walked barefoot up the beach and seemed to giggle as the sand tickled her toes.

For a moment, it caused a funny tickle in Martin's stomach as he stared at her. It was a surprising feeling, a lovely warmth accompanied it and he knew what it was causing it. It was a familiar.

Cursing under breath at himself, he gathered up his belongings and quickly made a bee-line in the opposite direction up the street. As he did, he brushed rudely past someone he didn't see until he'd banged headlong into them.

"Tosser!" They shouted.

Pauline who had been walking nearby heard the comment and turned to see the doc walking quickly away in the other direction.

She stood watching him walking in his self-indignant way up the laneway.

It hadn't been her imagination after all.

Someone had been watching her – could it be…?

(That night at the Martin's cottage. He sat up in his rooms above the surgery and looked over at a newspaper article that was growing a little yellow now around the edges on top of his bureau. It was something he went over and over every day at least once):

Reading it a bit to himself, he found he didn't really need to even look at it – he knew it off by heart. It was a story about the appointment of the new school headmistress in Worcestershire, Louisa Glasson.

"Today, we at Moffats welcome aboard Ms. Louisa Glasson. Originally from Port Issac, Cornwall, Ms. Glasson, she has nine years of experience in teaching children between the ages of 4 and 10. We…"

But, Martin couldn't read it anymore. It hurt too much. All he could do was think over and over again was "Why?"

But he knew why…

She said that it was his infuriating manner of constantly being rude to everyone, including her; his problems with competing with her in every conversation they had together and his fear of intimacy that finally drove her away.

It was always him. Of course it was. He always had to deal with himself too, why should it be any easier for anyone else?

How could he do that to her? He had subjected her to it, why hadn't he just pushed her away like he did everyone?

Looking in the mirror, all he could see was a blank face, someone he'd forgotten long ago, he didn't even know himself anymore. It scared him. Where was that ambitious, young man who wanted to save mankind with his healing hands and to make the world a better place doing so? Suddenly, it no longer mattered.

She was gone, the one thing that made him feel alive of late, she was gone.

Angered beyond words, he suddenly shot his hand out and knocked everything that was sitting on top of his dresser to the floor.

As he did, he started to curse his stupidity, he just bought these things earlier in the day – a lovely vase for freshly cut roses from an elderly patient that secretly he'd enjoyed and some of his aftershave.

Clumsily, he tried to find something to clean it up with and ended up stepping into it with his bare feet.

"Ahhh!" He screamed out as he felt the pain immediately. Blood began to gush from the wound.

He tried hard to avoid looking at it. He had to treat it, lest it get infected.

But, as he did the pain brought something he wasn't expecting – fresh, hot tears which welled up in his eyes.

Falling down to the floor on knees, he leaned up against the dresser and cried openly.

Perhaps bleeding to death would be better for everyone…

(The next day, the clinic opened as usual and already it was teaming with people to see the doctor):

A woman sat across from Pauline in a chair near the stairs, she smiled uncomfortably and tried to be casual about it.

Pauline watched her for a few moments and sized her up – she wasn't from around here, she could tell it almost the moment the woman had opened her mouth when she approached her desk earlier. Her voice was too flat and featureless for it to be a local accent.

She asked her about it. The woman said she was from Canada. So that much had been certain.

About 40, she decided. Not particularly pretty but with nice, sanguine eyes hiding behind her rectangular glasses. A bit on the nervous side as her hand shook a bit, she tried to disguise the fact but it was clear. She had dark, chestnut hair that came down just below her ears, heavy set with a full nose that she rubbed occasionally as she let out another hacking cough and wiped the sniffles from her nose.

She offered the woman a kleenex and went to sit back down.

Suddenly, the door to the surgery opened and the doc emerged. He walked over to the filing cabinet near the reception desk to fetch some files on the new patient.

"Next patient," he said, quiet but the authority still plain in his voice.

"SARAH MARSHALL!" Screamed Pauline as if yelling for a hot dog at a ball game.

"Pauline, please!" Martin scolded. He then whispered. "You need to use a quieter voice when calling for patients, there's no need to scream!"

"Alright, sorry doc, I'll try," Pauline whispered and winked at him. "Sarah, you can go in."

Sarah, the woman across from her looked up and seemed puzzled. "I'm next?"

"Yes, you can go in," the receptionist kept on whispering.

The woman still looked confused.

"Oh for heaven sakes!" The doctor groaned. He went over and held open his hand for the woman. "Step into my office."

Pauline just grinned as she made her point and she knew it.

Inside the office, the woman sat down in front of Dr. Ellingham's desk and held her purse in her lap as if she were using it as a shield. Then, thought the better of it and dropped it to the floor beside her.

Martin sat down across from her and looked over her file.

"Yes, what can I do for you today?"

"Well, I've been having this rather nasty cough since I flew out here about a week ago."

The doctor looked up at her. "Where were you travelling from?"

"North Vancouver, British Columbia – that's in Canada."

"Yes, I know where that is," he grumbled.

"Sorry. I only noticed it, you know, on the flight. I was fine when I was at the airport. I'm wondering if I contracted something on the plane."

"Have you ever been sick before? It says here you're diabetic."

"That's right, I am. But, I've never experienced any symptoms like this with my blood sugar when it's fluctuating. I don't know what this is. It's like I feel dizzy sometimes and then it blends into these coughing fits I get. It's usually due to my problems trying to swallow."

"Swallowing? Well, that could be a number of things, but more than likely you either have a strain of some virus you picked up or it's part of your diabetes and it just hadn't manifested itself before. Let me check your throat."

Walking around the desk, he perched himself on the edge and loomed over her. She lifted her chin as he began to feel on either side of her neck with his hands.

Then he pulled away and contemplated her for a moment, looking at her from side to side.

"Definite swelling. Is it a new symptom?"

"Yes, I've only had it the last couple of days."

"It could be a number of things, but I think the most likely culprit is the virus I suggested, possibly the flu as you are too old to develop mumps. You've had all your immunizations?"

"Yes. I had them when I was younger. My mom was very good at making sure we got our shots," she replied. "So it's just a cold?"

"No, it's more than that, but I'm going to prescribe you some antibiotics. Try not to do too much sightseeing for a few days and get some rest. Come to see me later in the week if it hasn't cleared up."

He stood up and that's when Sarah Marshall noticed it.

"Umm…doctor, your foot – it's bleeding."

Martin looked down and grimaced, he hoped that it would stop on it's own. The wound was actually at the bottom of his foot, but had started to seep through his sock and was making a puddle around the sole of his shoe.

He looked pale for a moment as he caught sight of it, his stomach starting to turn. Why did he have to be hemophobic?

"It's nothing, just an old injury," he muttered and tried to steady his nerves. "See Pauline at the front, she will give you a prescription."

Sarah quietly nodded and looked at him in concern for a moment and then went to find the receptionist.

"So what does your paper say?" She asked Sarah as she came up to her desk. "Amoxicillin."

"Um…sorry, but I was noticing the doctor's foot was bleeding. He said it was fine, but it looked like it was causing him pain. Just thought I'd let you know."

Pauline looked up at her in alarm. "What? The doc?"

"Yes, Dr. Ellingham."

"Thanks, go take this to the pharmacy and ask Mrs. Tishell to fill this for you."

Sarah nodded and left the surgery.

Pauline ignored the next patient and went to see Martin herself.

Opening his door, she didn't knock but just stepped into the room.

"Pauline, what is it? Send in the next patient!" He barked, his face looking rather whiter than usual.

She glanced down at his foot to see a puddle of blood forming on the floor beneath it.

"Oh Gawd! What did you do? Your foot – it's injured!"

"It's nothing!" He dismissed and hid it beneath his desk.

"Nothing? You're gettin' your blood everywhere. Here, let me take a look at it!"

"Pauline! Go back to work, this doesn't concern you."

"Look, I know your blood thing – you probably don't want to touch it. I can put some bandages on it and wrap it for you," she said, running to his cart near the desk where he kept his tools of his trade.

"Leave me alone!" He shouted rather brusquely.

She looked up at him in surprise, but very firmly and loudly replied "No!"

This time he was the one who sat in surprise.

"Now, you listen to me," she said, grabbing a set of white cotton batting and waving it at him. "You're going to sit there, let me take off your shoe and put this bandage on you! If you give me any problems, I'm calling in PC Penhale! But, I don't think I will be needing him, will I? I think this is between you and me. You need to trust me!"

He gritted his teeth and looked down angrily at the desk. "Very well!" He grumbled.

"Good," she said, frankly impressed that he was finally listening to her.

Taking the bandages, she came around the other side of his desk and knelt beside him on the floor. Gingerly, she started to undo the shoelaces on his right foot that was clearly the problem one. He grimaced and hissed in pain as she tried as carefully and slowly as she could to remove it.

"Shush!" She whispered. "It's OK."

He watched her quietly and was amazed at how calm and professional she was.

"Why are you doing this?" He whispered.

She glanced up at him. "Because if you bleed to death that means a phlebotomist is going to be running the practice."

His eyes in that split second shone a little softer and then the most amazing thing crossed his face, despite the pain, he smiled at her.

She seemed startled, but then commented softly. "That's nice."

He coughed a bit in embarrassment and looked away.

"You need to do that more," she said.

Finally, she cradled his bare foot in her hand which was soaked in blood.

"Ehhh…" she cringed. "It's a mess. What did you do to yourself?"

"I – I stepped on some glass."

He took a moment to look at it and then felt nauseous all over again.

"Don't look, doc, let me do this. You just sit back. Wait! What is this? You have glass still in your foot?"

She picked out a large shard of it with her fingernail. He immediately jumped in response.

"Sorry. Didn't you treat it? Was it the blood thing?"

He was panting a bit as he replied. "Yes…of course I did…it stopped bleeding afterwards."

"So why didn't you take out the glass?"

He wouldn't answer her, but turned his head to stare blankly at the fireplace.

"You left it in? Why? You wouldn't do somethin' like that."

He was still quiet and finally it sank in.

"You're punishing yourself."

He closed his eyes briefly and replied. "Nonsense."

"Oh doc!" She cried, her heart going out to him. It wasn't only his foot that was a mess. She could tell he was hurting inside.

As his angry eyes, started to grow wet with tears, she instead decided to show him respect and not say what was on her mind.

"I won't ask anything else, you're right. Let me just dress for you."

He turned to watch her, as she tenderly handled his foot and bound it delicately with the cotton wrap. Such care and deliberation she showed, such a skilled hand. Tying it off, she glanced up at him. She stroked his ankle for a moment.

"There you go, good as new. But, you should use a cane, I don't think you can walk on it."

He nodded and just grumbled. "Yes, well – nice handiwork."

She smiled at him. "You're welcome."

Standing up, she was about to return to the lobby when she stopped at the door. He looked up at her expectantly.

"What? Did you forget something?" He snarled, back to his old self again.

She ran up without a word spoken and suddenly put her arms around his neck and shoulders from behind to give him a quick hug.

He started to protest, but she'd already let him go by that time. Running back through the door, she shut it behind her.

Martin looked at the closed door for a long time, still feeling her tiny arms that for a second had been wrapped around him in an embrace he wasn't expecting.

And realizing – how wonderful it felt.

(After hours, Pauline was starting to turn off her monitor when the door to the doctor's office opened):

Martin quietly came out to stand in the lobby and watched her packing her things.

"You're leaving?"

"It's quitting time, doc. I'll be in bright and early tomorrow."

He just kept standing there until at last she looked up to acknowledge him with her light blue eyes.

"Ah, yes, right," he whispered.

"You OK?" She asked him, pulling her purse strap over one shoulder. "How's your foot doin'?"

"Better," he said softly and almost smiled again but stopped himself.

"Good."

Again the just stood there contemplating each other when she finally spoke. "You know, it's a long ride on my moped to home, don't suppose I could have a cup of tea before I hit the road?"

It was like a light was turned on in him suddenly and he raised his head at her words, his eyes turning soft. "Yes."

"Good," she repeated, smiling at him.

They just stood there, until finally, she dropped her purse on the floor and walked past him to the kitchen.

She stopped in the doorway and looked at him. "Do you need a hand? You can put your arm around my shoulders and lean into me."

"I think I can manage, Pauline," he growled, but his tone was softer.