Chapter 3: Curiouser And Curiouser

Sunday Night

"Yes," said the visitor, smiling. "You must be Tom Glasson's sister. Welcome to Port Liac. Have we met before? I'm sure I would have remembered," he said, practically looking her up and down.

Louisa was speechless. It was him, but not him. There was no mistaking the tall strong body, the pale blue-grey eyes, the nose, the full mouth, even the distinctive ears were just right. And yet, this man was so relaxed, dressed in a fisherman's jumper and jeans, his blondish hair a more casual length, softening the bat-eared look. He was slightly heavier and seemed younger too, right about her own age.

"I'm Martin Bamford," he said in a London accent. He entered the cottage and extended his hand. "Um, Louisa Glasson," she said, grasping his hand but simply holding it as she stared at him, entranced. "Sorry, do you, um, have a twin brother?"

"Ah, no. I'm an only child," the visitor replied, in a bemused tone.

She was aware she must be looking and sounding pretty ridiculous right about now. Why would her Martin have a twin brother neither he nor his aunts had ever mentioned, especially one with the same first name and a different surname? "I'm sorry, you must think me a bit Bodmin," she said. "It's just that… you look like a lot like a… a friend of mine. Do you know Martin Ellingham?"

Bamford stared back at her a moment, no doubt thinking she was far more than just "a bit" Bodmin. "Can't say I do," he replied. He followed her into the dining area, where the others were back at the table. "Tom, you never mentioned how pretty, and, uh, interesting your sister is," he said.

"Sorry." She bit her lip, thinking she must sound like an idiot to this man, apologizing so much. "It's just he sort of looks a bit like my Martin, I was just confused for a moment."

"Doc Martin here is the local GP," Harvey said. "Come down from London a few years back and stuck out like a sore thumb here in Port Liac, but he's well on his way to being a proper Cornishman. He's practically part of the landscape now."

Louisa was amazed to see this Martin didn't seem to mind the silly nickname at all. And he's a doctor too, she thought, how strange is that? Curiouser and curiouser! Seeing her brother again after so long, and looking at his two friends, whom she had just met and yet who seemed so familiar, well already this village was like a Looking-Glass version of home. She had been in Port Liac less than 24 hours but she had already had more fun and intrigue than she'd had in years.

"So," she turned her attention back to the newcomer, thinking it best to change the subject for now. "Tom says you're a silent partner in their top secret project."

"Yes," said the man. "Can't resist seeing what mysteries lie beneath the waves."

"When Tom and I were young, we used to love hearing about Lyonesse* and how it sunk beneath the waves to be lost forever. We used to daydream about finding it," she said. "I memorized a poem† about it for school."

In sea-cold Lyonesse,

When the Sabbath eve shafts down

On the roofs, walls, belfries

Of the foundered town,

The Nereids pluck their lyres

Where the green translucency beats,

And with motionless eyes at gaze

Make ministrely in the streets.

And the ocean water stirs

In salt-worn casement and porch.

Plies the blunt-nosed fish

With fire in his skull for torch.

And the ringing wires resound;

And the unearthly lovely weep,

In lament of the music they make

In the sullen courts of sleep:

Whose marble flowers bloom for aye:

And - lapped by the moon-guiled tide -

Mock their carver with heart of stone,

Caged in his stone-ribbed side.

"'Unearthly lovely' indeed, said Martin Bamford when she finished.

"I can't believe I remembered all that," she said.

Martin got a dreamy look in his pale eyes, drawing up his own childhood memorization‡:

A land of old upheaven from the abyss

By fire, to sink into the abyss again;

Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt,

And the long mountains ended in a coast

Of ever-shifting sand, and far away

The phantom circle of a moaning sea.

"I was fond of the King Arthur stories when I was a kid," he said.

"You two are like old mates already," said Tom. "Come on have a seat, we're ready to open another bottle."

The four of them talked into the night about ancient tales and Spanish galleons and sunken treasure and how Harvey's Dream Boat was finished and tomorrow they would rechristen her and take her out on her maiden voyage.

Through it all, Louisa still couldn't keep her eyes off the newcomer. His blondish hair, his big hands, his broad shoulders, even the curve of his bum, seemed so familiar she had to stop herself from reaching out to touch him. Then there was the unfamiliar way he freely talked and laughed, it was wonderful for her to see. As they all grew increasingly tipsy with ouzo, she tried to remain casual but she knew he was aware of her eyes on him, and when the other two were distracted a moment he looked at her squarely straight across the table and she knew, in spite of herself, there was a spark between them.

To be continued…

*Lyonesse is the land that bordered Cornwall in Arthurian legend, said to have sunk Atlantis-like beneath the waves, then to be immortalized in many a poem, song, and story.

†Louisa recites Walter de la Mare's poem Sunk Lyonesse.

‡Martin Bamford quotes from Alfred Lord Tennyson's Idylls of the King.