Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.
Chapter Two
Paul Milligan waited impatiently while Martin finished signing the last of his repeat prescriptions. They were going to the chemist so that Martin could drop off the prescriptions and so that he could get a pharmacist's perspective on a drug trial that he was interested in. Sally Tishell was an intelligent woman and he found her input very useful. And she was a good cook too. She insisted on cooking for him whenever he came round but tonight he was going to insist that she let him take her out for a meal. Paul was also going to ask her what she knew about Martin's 'horrid' parents.
As they left the surgery, Paul said,
'I gather Emily's a genius.'
'Yes.'
'And possibly Chelsey too?'
'It seems highly probable.'
'And the parents are ordinary?'
'Yes. Father's a fisherman, mother's a nurse. Slightly above average intelligence, but no more than that, I would say.'
'That was certainly the impression I got from the counselling sessions. Fascinating.'
Martin gave Paul an enquiring look, so Paul elaborated,
'I find the transference of intelligence from parents to offspring fascinating. Genius is particularly interesting because nobody knows how a genius comes into being. To find two geniuses in one family is incredible. I wish the circumstances made it possible to study them but it would be unethical.'
'You'd probably find them uncooperative anyway.'
'Why do you say that?'
'In my experience, patients do not understand the value of research.'
'Oh?'
'Yes. I made some observations to Miss Glasson regarding her hormonal responses during different stages of her menstrual cycle and she didn't understand the research value of my questions at all.'
'When did you ask her about it?'
'One evening, when we were out together.'
'You were out together? On a date?' asked Paul, incredulously.
'Yes,' replied Martin defensively, 'I wanted some data for a theory I'm developing on the significance of minute hormonal fluctuations in women. She seemed very emotional so I asked her if she was pre-menstrual.'
'Did she hit you?'
'No,' replied Martin, startled, 'Should she have?'
'Would you have realised how inappropriate your behaviour was if she had?'
'Inappropriate? How?' said Martin indignantly.
'You were not in a medical situation nor had Miss Glasson agreed to take part in a research programme. To ask her questions for research purposes without getting her permission first was not only inappropriate but unethical.'
Martin paused on the edge of a blistering retort as the significance of Paul's reply resonated through his brain, triggering memories from his Morals and Ethics lectures at medical school. Paul was right, he had behaved very badly. No wonder Louisa had been so angry; she wouldn't want anything to do with a man who violated medical ethics. He would have to apologise to her.
Fortunately, they arrived at the chemist so Martin didn't have to admit to Paul that he was right. Mrs Tishell was stocking the shelves but stopped as soon as she saw the doctors,
'Doctor Ellingham and Doctor Milligan, how lovely to see you both. What can I do for you?'
'Repeat prescriptions,' said Martin curtly, placing the scripts on the counter and turning to go.
'I'll make sure they're ready for first thing tomorrow. How's Peter? Not caught any of the bugs going round, I hope.'
'He's fine,' replied Martin reluctantly.
'And how's Louisa? When does her plaster come off?'
'She's fine. Next week,' said Martin going out through the door and shutting it firmly behind him.
As he made his way down the hill, Martin made sure that he walked quickly and didn't make eye contact with anyone but despite that two of Aunty Joan's friends insisted on talking to him,
'Hello, Doctor. How's…'
'Can't stop.'
'But…'
Martin side stepped quickly and hurried on, using his long legs to outpace the elderly women.
Panting slightly (one of the women had had a surprising turn of speed), Martin arrived at the cottage that he and Louisa were sharing. Inside, he found Louisa in the kitchen feeding Peter. Peter was starting to take an interest in feeding himself though at the moment he was only able to wave a spoon about in random directions. As Martin came in, Peter hit the edge of the table with his spoon and then beamed as he managed to do it again.
Louisa looked up and smiled and Martin felt his heart pound. Martin was astonished by how much an instinctive hormonal reaction could affect him. Louisa only had to smile at him for him to want to make love to her. Perhaps if he gave it some thought a way could be found despite Louisa's plaster cast.
'Everything all right, Martin?'
'Yes…No.'
'What's wrong?'
'I need to apologise to you.'
'Why?' asked Louisa, with some trepidation, wondering what he'd done this time.
'When we went to that concert, I behaved unethically. I apologise.'
'What? Which concert?'
'The one where your horrid friend Holly played the cello.'
'Yes?'
'I behaved unethically that evening…when I asked you if you were pre-menstrual.'
'Unethically?'
'Yes.'
'What are you talking about, Martin? You were tactless and insensitive but why was it unethical?'
'I asked you questions for my medical research without asking your permission first.'
'I see.'
Louisa's expression was unreadable and Martin looked at her hesitantly unsure what to say. After a minute he sat down to wait for her reaction.
In the kitchen above the pharmacy, Paul turned on his laptop and opened the file on the new drug. Sally Tishell pulled up a chair and began to read. Within minutes they were deep in discussion on the potential allergic reactions. After an hour they stopped for dinner, a delicious beef stew that had been simmering on Sally's hob for hours. Sighing happily, Paul said,
'That was delicious, thank you.'
'You're welcome.'
'Tomorrow I'd like to buy you dinner.'
'Buy me dinner?' said Sally incredulously.
'Yes.'
'At a restaurant?'
'Yes.'
'But why?'
'To thank you for all the meals you've made for me.'
'But there's no need.'
'I want to,' insisted Paul.
'Are you sure?'
'Yes. Where would you like to go?'
'Well, I don't mind. There's Mrs Wilson's hotel, that's very nice but rather pricey, I'm afraid. Bert Large's restaurant is supposed to be very nice. Or there's the pub but the chef's ill at the moment so they're just fetching food in from the fish and chip shop.'
'Shall I make a reservation at Bert's for tomorrow evening at seven, then?'
'Well, if you're sure…that would be lovely.'
Sally's face was flushed with pleasure and excitement and without thinking Paul leant forward and kissed her.
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