Terry Glasson hoisted a small duffel bag into the back then climbed into the passenger seat. "Thanks Martin." He waved to the person standing inside the gift shop which was the bus stop on New Road.
Martin could not but help notice the abrupt way the shop owner turned away and did not wave back at Terry. He tried not to sneer at Louisa's father as he answered, "I was nearby and knowing the bus schedule I came." Fortunately the bus was on time which was a rarity hereabouts.
Terry rubbed his hands together in the hot air from the dashboard vents. "Bloody cold out there. But thanks all the same."
Martin started the motor then glowered at Terry. "Seat harness?"
"Oh yeah," the man answered. "Sorry. Bit out of practice. No seat belts in nick. Louisa couldn't come?"
"It is a school day and as Head Teacher she must be in attendance well after the children have gone and school is locked up for the day."
"Sorry, just wondered." He settled himself into the leather seat. "Nice car."
Martin merely nodded. He'd told Ruth that Louisa's dad had been paroled and she'd cautioned him about an adjustment period.
"You must realize Martin that Terry Glasson has been in custody for... I'm sorry, how long?" his aunt asked.
"About four years."
"Ah."
"He was involved in an attempt to smuggle explosives to blow open an industrial safe."
"I see."
"Terry had an accomplice, a totally off-kilter paranoid schizophrenic named Jonathan Crozier, who, well…"
"No need to say more Martin, I've heard all about it. So give the man time. He was released early so he must have been cooperative and the parole board must have felt there was enough punishment as well as some redemption, or they would not have granted parole."
"Erh, right. Small village – no secrets." Martin could only imagine how tongues would wag when they heard that Terry was back. Terry of the lifeboat fund robbery, Terry of the kidnapping, Terry of the chough explosion; he stopped himself for Terry hadn't blown up the rare birds and their nest. "Ahem, yes."
Ruth smirked. "You do know there are plenty of secrets in the village, right?"
Martin was taken back to the present by Terry saying "Martin, I can't thank you enough…"
Just then his mobile connection in the car sounded. "Shush," Martin said to him then answered the call. "Ellingham."
What came from the dash speaker was yelling and scuffling. "Doc?" a loud woman's voice said over the screeching. "Hey, it's Carole Snell! My son had a bit of a tumble off the tractor and…" her voice was interrupted by someone screaming.
Ice water chilled Martin's heart. "What has happened?"
"Looks like Robbie broke his arm. Can you come? I called surgery and Morwenna gave me your number."
Martin sighed. "Now where are you?"
"You take Church Hill out of town, left at the T, then the next left and end of road."
Martin said, "Right. Five minutes."
Terry instructed, "Doc go down New, over Back, then Fore, straight on to Church Hill. Saves you some time."
"I know that!" Martin yelled as he wheeled the Lexus about making a quick turnabout on New Road.
Terry put a hand in the assist strap hanging from the roof as the car accelerated. "Ah the old village, not much changes." Houses began to fly past the speeding Lexus at a furious rate. "I missed this place."
Martin was concentrating on driving. "I'm certain anyplace would be better than..." he stopped.
"No, that's alright," Terry sighed. "I'm an old lag, I am. Spent far too long behind bars courtesy of Her Majesty." He paused but then brightened up. "But you and my Louisa are married. Fabulous! She's been writing me. Told me all about it." He reached across the car and slapped Martin on the shoulder.
"Uhm, yes." Martin managed not to yell at the impact of Terry's hand for he didn't like to be touched. All about it? Hmm.
"And the baby's how old?"
"Nearly eighteen months."
"James Henry Ellingham," Terry said slowly. "Brilliant."
"Yes."
Terry smiled. "His front name is my dad's. He was the village postman you know."
"Right." Martin was trying to drive and this family commentary was distracting.
"When I opened that letter of hers…" Terry stopped speaking so Martin stole a glance seeing the man wipe an eye. "I been a bloody fool Martin, that's what I been."
Fortunately that emotional moment made Terry clam up before Martin yelled at him to shut up. Shortly his car was pulling up to two stone barns, one converted to a self-catering cottage. The first thing he noticed was a lot of wailing, next the fine view down the harbor, and thirdly an overturned and ancient red Farmall tractor in a field near the larger building. "God," he muttered as he got his case and hurried into the field. There was a farm implement – a mower – attached to the tractor, the hitch bent and mangled.
"Doc! Down here!" someone called and he trotted into a field around the tractor and found his patient, a boy of about sixteen, who was cradling both arm and wrist and keening. A woman of about forty years old stood nearby wringing her hands. "I told him to be careful on the slope, but the grass was long and I was inside cleaning for the next weekend guests when I heard a crash."
Martin looked upslope at the overturned machine. "Lucky he wasn't crushed under it." He got down on one knee and tried to examine the boy who tried to roll away as he touched his shoulder. "I'm Doctor Ellingham, let me look."
"Arghhhh. God it hurts! Give me something!" the kid yelled.
Terry looked down at the Doc for he'd chased him down the slope hi shorter legs hurrying to keep up with Martin. "How can I help?"
Martin grunte, "Uhm, right, brace him. Get behind his back. Keep him upright while I sling this."
The boy tried to struggle away from Terry but he clamped a strong hand on his good shoulder. "Steady on, son. Just let the Doc do his business and we'll get you set right."
"What about my arm?" the boy asked. "It's all busted."
"I'll sling it then off to hospital for a cast," Martin told the boy, then looked at the woman. "You're his mother?"
She nodded dumbly.
"You have a car? Just the wrist and forearm, I think." Miraculously the child quit squirming so Martin could next do a quick neurological exam. "Did you hit your head? No? Follow my finger, right, left, up down; good. What is the date and your full name? Age as well." He pulled out his penlight and examined his pupil reflex.
The boy thought for a moment. "Uhm, December third. Robert Charles Snell and I'm sixteen."
Martin nodded. "Right. No head injury, but they'll x-ray him anyway." He took out his sphygmomanometer plus stethoscope and swiftly took a blood pressure and pulse. "Elevated but that's expected. Now for a sling."
The boy screamed once when Martin shifted his arm getting the sling on it, but after swiftly binding it to his body the child relaxed a little. Though the kid was shaking he didn't yell anymore. "Steady." He looked at Terry, who was his father-in-law he realized. The man sat there behind the boy holding him tightly. "Good." Useful; at this moment at least.
The woman was shaking her head. "How am I gonna get this field mowed?"
Terry brightened. "If your tractor ain't broke too bad I could see to it." He cocked his head at it. "Those machines were built to last."
She shook her head. "Sorry. So I know you?"
"Terry Glasson, at your service, ma'am."
"Uhm, oh you must be Louisa's?" the woman frowned.
"Father."
Martin interrupted with, "You really ought to get your son off to Truro. Terry if you would help me get him up this hill?"
Terry and Martin hoisted the boy to his feet then uphill to his mother's car.
Martin watched while Terry assured the woman he'd see to her field. "Don't you worry about a thing, now. Your boy will be fine and I'll get this field taken care of. Ta, ta. Bye," he waved. Terry was all smiles as she drove off but then his face fell. "Got I hate tractors. Tricky things."
"Have you ever driven a tractor?"
He grinned ruefully. "Been a while, but I'll get the hang of it. I'll get the garage up here with their tow lorry. A bit of cable and get that machine back on her wheels." He snapped his fingers. "Like that. Probably have to bend the hitch back into shape, but a little heat from a blowtorch and some hammerin' good as new!"
Martin looked down the hill. "The boy must have mowing across the slope; no wonder it rolled over. Rather steep."
Terry brightened. "Look," he pointed. "This sorta' hill you gotta' go up and down, or you're dead meat. Boy's lucky – very."
Martin put his case into the car. "You're seemed very sure with the woman."
Terry shook his head. "Doc I can turn my hand to almost anything."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"And Doc, I won't be a bother."
"See that you're not."
Martin got into the Lexus and Terry followed.
"Martin, look, I will take care, and I will get this field cut. Don't worry about me, I'm a survivor."
Right then Martin realized that Terry Glasson was two things – both an egoist and a charmer.
Martin put his hands on the wheel. "Just don't… look! I will NOT stand by and watch Louisa get hurt!"
Terry nodded. "Right. I'll be good."
"See that you are," Martin said then started the car.
"She's all I got, Doc," Terry muttered. "Course there's you and the baby as well!"
Martin scowled all the way home.
