Disclaimer: Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures Ltd. Sadly, I own nothing.

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'Edith! Edith Montgomery!' a man's voice yelled from somewhere behind me. Rolling my eyes, I stopped and turned, only to find the insipid Adrian Pitts running through the crowd of scholars, waving his hands like mad.

'What do you want Pitts?' I asked coolly…After what he did to Ellingham…

'Good God Montgomery! Bad day?'

I shifted the weight of my shoulder bag and said nothing, glaring at him all the while though… This seemed to make him the slightest bit nervous.

Good, he deserves it.

'Well, uh, anyway, did you hear that some of the Americans majoring in neurology are throwing a big end of the semester celebration?' he pointed over his shoulder to no one in particular.

'I was wondering-'

'No" I stated firmly, turning on my heels and continuing on my trek to the lecture hall. He fell into stride beside me.

'Oh, c'mon Montgomery, everyone needs a break once in a while, even you!'

'The answer is no, Adrian, now go away, we both have classes to attend!'

He was silent for a moment; I didn't bother to look at him.

'Ohhhh… I know, you're going with that bloody Martin Ellingham, aren't you… strange duck, isn't he?'

I immediately stopped in my tracks, I had had enough.

'For your information Pitts, neither "bloody martin Ellingham' nor I are attending, because, unlike you, we actually have lives! Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lecture to attend!' I barked harshly, then turned on my heel once again, and set off at a brisk pace across the grounds, leaving Pitts standing there to ponder about his inane life.

Shifting my bag again, I checked my watch.

Damn! Half-Two! Curse Pitts!

I silently cracked the door of the auditorium, only to find my suspicions confirmed.

The lecture had begun.

I quickly spotted Ellingham sitting in the back near a window, glancing up every so often from his work. I quietly slipped through the door and down the aisle. Entering the row, I collapsed into the chair next to him, flinging my bag to the ground, which hit his feet and caused him to jump.

Once he realised it was me, he leaned over and whispered,

'Edith! You're late!'

I gave him only a small smile and a pat on the hand, before pulling out my notebook, and beginning my notes.

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