Martin returned to the surgery to find a waiting room full of annoyed patients and Al sitting at Pauline's desk working on the computer while she leaned suggestively over his shoulder.
"Pauline, I need a word with you." He nodded toward the consulting room.
"You've got patients."
"I can see that. Now, Pauline."
Al jumped up from his chair. "Doc, I was just installing some additional memory. Pauline said you was going to be out for a bit and I had some free time before dinner so I thought it made sense-"
"Good," Martin responded dismissively. At the moment, he didn't give a damn about the bloody computer. "Pauline!"
Pauline looked back at Al, who shrugged, then followed Martin into the consulting room, standing nervously on her wedge heels as he set down his bag and shut the door.
"Did you know that Louisa-, er, Miss Glasson had left Portwenn."
Pauline gave him an odd look and chewed on her gum. "Well, yeah."
"And you didn't think to tell me?"
Her face evidenced clear confusion. "You didn't know? I thought for sure she'd told you—"
"Why is everyone so sure?" he bellowed.
"Gawd, Doc. You and her was setting to get hitched! Figured you was at least still talking to each other. Me and the others reckoned you wanted her to leave or something so it wasn't, you know, awkward with both of you here and all."
Martin felt the blood draining from his head. That's what these people thought? That he'd wanted . . . or maybe even asked Louisa to go away?
"So you didn't know?" Pauline interrupted his thoughts.
"No." He was still trying to digest everything. Louisa had left without telling him, gone to London, and at least half the village probably now blamed him for what had happened.
"Sorry, Doc." Her shoulders slumped in apology. "I would have told you but I just—"
"Never mind."
"You could still call Louisa, talk to her. I'm sure she has the same mobile—"
"I said, never mind." He turned, stood up straight and stiffly made his way to the chair behind his desk, sitting down heavily.
"But, Doc. You loved her. You can't let her run off like that—"
"Pauline, shut up. And get me the notes for the next patient."
"Al?" Pauline lay on her side in Al's bed, lazily tracing her finger across his chest. It was just after eight in the morning and, if she were going to make it to the surgery on time, she'd have to get moving in short order. All things considered, she'd rather stay where she was for a few more hours, all nice, warm and . . . relaxed. Doc Martin probably wouldn't see it that way, certainly not if she arrived late.
"You awake?" she asked lazily.
"Yeah," Al said, not bothering to open his eyes. He lay on his back, the bed sheet haphazardly drawn up to his waist.
"When we were . . . you know, last night. Close." She giggled, remembering. "I just wondered." She stopped, not quite sure how exactly to say what she wanted to say.
Al turned his face toward her and cracked open one eye. "What you wonderin?"
And now, lying here after a wonderful night together, she was thinking that maybe this wasn't the best time to bring it up.
When she didn't answer, Al opened both eyes wide and frowned at her. "So, what is it?"
Pauline focused her gaze on the far wall. "It's nothing."
Al reached out a hand cupped her chin until she was forced to look directly into his eyes. "Come on, Pauline. Don't be teasing me like that. Out with it."
She kept her gaze averted. "It's . . . when I was . . . when we were . . ." Why was the subject of their lovemaking suddenly so hard to talk about? "I felt something."
"Okay." Al expression showed he was clearly confused. "I think that's what's supposed to happen," he added.
She continued to run her hand along his chest. The last thing she wanted was for him to take her next words the wrong way.
"I mean that I felt something when I was touching you, touching your . . . down there." Damn this was hard. "It felt like a lump . . . or something off," she added hastily.
Al's hand immediately reached under the sheet and, for a moment, he didn't say a word. Pauline held her breath, trying to decide whether she'd made the right decision in mentioning it to him.
"It's nothing," Al finally said in a firm voice, although to Pauline's eyes, he looked far from certain.
"You sure?" she asked.
"Yeah. Remember I had that cold a couple of weeks ago. Probably just a swollen gland or something."
"Sure, that makes sense," Pauline said, injecting into her voice more hope than she felt. The thought of a lump anywhere gave her the willies. Last year, a friend's mother had gone to the doctor after finding a lump in her breast; it turned out to be cancer. Pauline wasn't sure about the significance of a lump in a man's bollocks but she was scared enough to encourage Al to get it checked out.
"Maybe you ought to see the Doc. Just to be on the safe side," she added.
"Nah. He'll just give me a good arse-chewing for bothering him over nothing. You know how he gets."
"Yeah, but—"
Al glanced at his watch. "Look what time it is!" He started to push her out of the bed. "Pauline, if you don't get a move on, you're the one who's gonna get a chewing out from the Doc."
"Okay, okay," she said, starting to slide away. "But promise me you'll at least talk to him today."
"I can't today. You know Dad's in Portsmouth checking out new equipment for the restaurant. Someone's got to keep things running while he's away. Besides, like I told you, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about. Now get going!"
Despite Al's assurances, Pauline couldn't completely shake off her concerns as she made her way to the surgery. Once there, she spent much of the morning surfing the Internet and what she found did nothing to lessen her fears. Then again, she'd heard the Doc get after more than a few of his patients for relying on the Internet for medical advice so maybe what she'd read was all a bunch of rubbish.
It was mid-morning before there was a break in the surgery schedule. Pauline often marveled at the number of patients Doc was able to see in a day. Then again, when you refused to engage in any small talk, things tended to move much more quickly.
The doctor brought out a small stack of patient notes from the morning and handed them to her for filing.
"I'll just grab a quick cup of tea before the next patient," he announced.
"Doc," she said, standing up from the desk and following him into the kitchen. "Can I ask you a medical question?"
He seemed a bit surprised by the request but nodded. "Go ahead."
She sucked in a deep breath. "If a fellow has a lump in his . . ." She paused, immediately regretting having started this conversation. "In his . . . you know."
"No, I don't." The Doc poured his tea and took a small sip.
"His . . . bollocks," she said with exasperation. "Is a lump there serious?"
"Not necessarily. A mass in the testis is not all that uncommon and can be caused by any number of benign conditions, such as a cyst, a hernia, or even a varicose vein."
Inwardly, she sighed with relief; her research hadn't turned up some of those explanations and they definitely sounded a lot less serious than cancer.
"A testicular lump can also be caused by trauma to the testes," he continued, "such as from athletic injury or even a car accident. And, of course, in some cases, a testicular mass is a carcinoma."
Her gut clenched at this one. "How do you know which it is?"
"I perform an examination and, depending on the findings, refer the patient to a specialist for tests such as an ultrasound examination, which is typically conclusive."
"And what if it's cancer?"
He took another drink from his cup before answering. "Surgery to remove the testicle is the only treatment and is highly effective. Depending on the pathology, the patient may require radiation and/or chemotherapy." The doctor cocked his head. "Pauline, why the sudden interest in this subject?"
"Um, I was just wondering, that's all."
"Right. So in the middle of my morning surgery, you suddenly develop a fascination with the diagnosis of treatment of testicular masses."
Pauline cringed. The Doc wasn't stupid and she should have known that her odd questions would raise his suspicions. Whatever she said would only make things worse, so she decided it best, for once, to keep her mouth shut.
"Pauline?" His eyes bored into hers. "What aren't you telling me?"
