Movement
By Robspace54
Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story is a work of fan fiction and in way presumes any ownership of, or intrusion upon, any of the rights of the copyright holders of Doc Martin, the story lines, or the characters.
This is a sequel to my fanfic, 'Taking Care' plus a parallel story to 'When Colin Met Nefertari.' This all happens the next day after the end of Doc Martin Series 7 episode titled, 'The Doctor Is Out.'
The counselor essentially gave up on them, and then Martin and Louisa had their heart-to-heart dinner cancelled when Martin went missing. Now that he and Louisa have 'gone home' together, what happens next?
Carrying several folded cartons, a package of wrapping paper, and a roll of tape I made my way to Squeeze Belly Alley, got through the choke point and finally stood at the door of "Smuggler's Rest." I unlocked the door and opened it, when the door opposite flew open and Louisa's newest teacher accosted me.
"Oh Doc, hi!"
Sighing I turned to face the blonde woman. "Hello."
She stared at me. "Oh. Busy?"
I looked down at the cartons in my hands. "Yes."
She licked her lips.
Obviously, she wanted something. "You need something?" I said, trying not to growl at her, but I wasn't half successful.
She squirmed. "I have… well… it's…"
Another needy villager. I glanced at my watch, "Go on."
She threw a thumb over her shoulder. "In my kitchen." Turning away from me, she went inside her home.
"Gawd." I put my items down, closed my door and followed her into her house.
Her daughter sat there reading a book and she looked up. "Hello Doctor Ellingham."
I nodded at her wondering what her mother needed.
"In here," she called out from the kitchen.
I followed her voice, noting that unlike the hovel across the street I'd been living in, at least there was sufficient headroom here, but I knew that from my previous visits.
The woman pointed to a large jar sitting on a table. "That."
A large glass jar, filled with appeared to be sliced peaches, was displayed. "It's a jar."
She crossed her thin arms. "I need help getting… the lid… off."
It was about four inches in diameter and stood six inches tall. "It's a preserve jar."
"And sealed tighter than a virg… uhm, yeah." She grinned and tossed her short hair. "I can't, uhm, have it, er, get it off. The lid." She waved her hands ineffectually over the thing. "I tried hot water, I tried one of those rubber thingies…" She shrugged. "No luck, but then I recalled that you live across the way." She lifted her bandaged hand. "This didn't help either."
The daughter was suddenly by my side. "Mum's not very strong."
"How's her hearing?" I whispered to the child. "Improved?"
She shook her head in the negative.
I stared at the woman. "Look, this isn't…" Then I recalled her Meniere's disease, along with her partial deafness and tinnitus.
She stared at me with an appealing look.
I searched for her name. "Andrea…"
"Erica," the kid prompted me. "And I'm Bernie."
"Miss… uhm, Erica…"
"Holbrook." The girl stage whispered.
"Look Miss Holbrook. Just why did you call me in here?" From the way she was licking her lips and posing, it was not about the jar. She batted her eyes at me. Oh God. I've seen Mrs. Tishell do that and that pushy hotel owner. Then I stopped myself wondering. Louisa does this when she wants us to get closer. "No!"
The woman sighed. "Look, I know that you and Louisa have been having - that is - you've been living apart."
I gulped. "Yes. But…" her face was flushed, I could smell pungent perfume, and the way she was now standing inches away from me and getting closer was sending me a clear message.
She batted her eyes and licked her lips. "And since we're neighbors," she whispered once more. "Oh hell, I don't know. Dinner?" She lifted her undamaged hand to stroke mine and I felt a flush of not only indignation but also humiliation.
I picked up the jar, clamped my hands around the glass and the lid and twisted the top off. "No. Here." I gave her the jar and walked towards the door, but I stopped to address the daughter. "Thank you for stopping the violin practice."
The child grinned at me. "Never liked doing it anyway."
I got outside then swiftly entered my rental property. Safe behind my own door, I shook my head. "What is it with these people?" I slipped off my jacket, hung it on a kitchen chair and set to work.
In short order, I had my few kitchen utensils, pots, and dishes packed. I was cleaning the counter when there was knock on the door.
Opening it I found PC Penhale peering in at me. "What?"
He smiled. "Ah! Doctor. You're… packing."
"Yes?"
"I bet you could use some help," he stated.
I looked around the small room, which combined both tiny kitchen and sitting rooms. "No."
He wedged himself through the narrow door, ducking his head. "Let me?" he held out his arms towards a packed carton.
Louisa's words rung in my head. 'Don't be a stranger Martin, try to let people get just a teeny bit closer to you.' I examined Penhale whi had a goofy grin on his wide mouth. I took a deep breath. "Oh, alright," I gave way. "My car is just at the end of the lane. You can take these cartons."
Joe smiled, the way he does with the half-mad look of his. "After your ordeal and all." He picked up the box. "Heavy. But I suspect you know how to pack efficiently."
That was a compliment. "Done it a few times." Joe blinked rapidly, so I said, "About the…"
His eyes flashed darkly. "That Witten family," he shook his head. "A bit different they are."
"The husband's in hospital and both wife and son have been referred for psychiatric exams."
Joe became animated. "I don't think they'll be trussing up people anytime soon. I mean, after, uhm, what… they did. If only my Taser had been charged. That would have stopped 'em." He smiled. "And that's why I got it charged right now." He glanced down at an empty holster on his policeman's belt. "Oops, it must be back in the station on the charger."
Yes, the Witten's had captured me; holding me against my will. The husband was ill, and the wife sick with worry. The son was clearly following his mum's lead; but both of them were a bit deranged. But when I thought about it, Louisa had done essentially the same. She'd marched into a strange situation to deal with barmy people, all to find me; and in the end to help me out of a jam.
"Penhale, they're not criminals."
"Well what are they then Doc? Just the usual off-kilter villagers? Right barking mad if you ask me."
I found it ironic that an agoraphobic insecure policeman was diagnosing other people. "The wife was desperate."
"And that can drive us to do mad things, right?"
I crossed the room and picked up the photo of me, Louisa, and James. I stared at for a few seconds before I packed it safe into a box, wrapped in paper.
"Good picture that one," Joe said as he tried to both carry the box and get the door open. "Your James Henry is a treasure."
"He is," I whispered, then I went to the door and opened it. Joe smiled so I told him, "Joe, thank you."
"It's nothing. Always ready to help a citizen; and besides we need you. You're our GP."
I shook my head. "I don't mean about the fetching and carrying. About…"
"Oh, the Witten thing. Doing my duty. And I'm always on duty – twenty-four seven." He stared at me for a few seconds.
I ignored the fact that it was Louisa who by her bold action defused most of the situation yesterday. "No, I mean it. If you and Louisa hadn't come when you had?" I felt my stomach lurch as I said it. That Witten boy was dangerous and he'd scared me more than I was ready to admit. And his mother had a couple of bats in her belfry as well. But as I had just said to myself, they were desperate. What would you do Martin Christopher Ellingham if you were desperate enough? But I have, performed emergency surgery on my own wife (and the health board was still mulling that over – to punish or praise?), after a crazy dash to the airport…
Joe stood there like he was waiting for me to say more. "Thank you for, ahem, getting me out of that jam," I said, although it was Louisa who really was the hero, and not our village cop.
He smiled at me. "Doc, what are friends for?"