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The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin, are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story places no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.

Thank you for reading and reviews are much appreciated.

The train pulled into Bodmin Parkway Station and I sighed loudly, loud enough for Martin to hear.

"Problem?" He'd lifted my case out of the train closet while reaching for his own.

"No!" I shouted reaching for handle. "No! Let me get that!"

"Louisa, I'm just…" he started then whispered to me, "Look! You shouldn't be carrying heavy objects!"

"Martin, I'm not an invalid! I can carry my own case, besides it's on wheels."

"All the same." He pushed my hand away and taking the suitcase stepped towards the coach door. "I left my car in the car park."

Martin had been like this since Saturday morning, all drippy with treacle and he was getting on my nerves. "I won't break!"

"Watch the steps then. It's rained overnight and the platform may be slick underfoot. Watch for the…"

I raised a hand to my forehead and rubbed it. "Martin, just stop it! You've been all… weird!" I struggled into my raincoat, flinging my handbag about like a bludgeon. I felt it hit him and he grunted. "Sorry."

"Louisa, I am only concerned and wish to ensure that you are safe… as well as the uhm…"

I ignored him and stepped out on the platform at Bodmin Parkway and though wet the flagstones weren't slick at all.

Martin clattered down the stairs and launched himself to my elbow. "Careful, puddle there and there."

I gave him a cold look. "Martin, are you going to be like this for the next six and half months?"

"Thirty weeks, Louisa. A lunar month is 28 days which is roughly four-and-a-third weeks, so closer to seven months. Assuming you are ten weeks expecting."

"All right! All right!" I yelled. "Martin,uhm, sorry. A bit on edge."

He nodded. "The car is just…" he pointed with his head and we walked to the small car park where the Lexus sat with a spatter of rain on it. He swiftly dropped the cases into the boot then, as I was opening the side door he scrambled over and grabbed the door from my hand. "Let me."

"Oh!" This was a side of Martin Ellingham that took some getting used to. I didn't have to ask for a thing since yesterday that he wasn't right there. I had to lock the bathroom door so I could use the toilet in peace. But wasn't it nice, just a little to be pampered? Sometimes was that answer. Pampering was one thing but as he took my elbow and practically lowered me into the leather seat of his car, I twitched his hand away. Then we got in a tug-of-war over the seatbelt. "Got it!" I growled at him.

"Louisa, now that you are pregnant…"

"Martin I always wear a seatbelt."

"Yes, yes, that's good, but when in a car, and expecting, put the seat belt low across the hips, below the abdomen, well across your pelvis, with the shoulder strap across your chest, between…"

I buckled the belt, settled the thing as directed. "Across here?" I grabbed his hand and held it to my sore baps and he recoiled. I couldn't resist catching him out once in a while, as he was so shy.

His eyes practically burst from his head. "Uhm, erh, yes."

I closed the door, narrowly avoiding catching his fingers glaring at him as he got in. "Martin, we need to talk."

"Uhm, yes."

"One - I am not sick or an invalid or some fragile bag of soap bubbles that you have to cart around on a feather pillow! Two - as you may know from years of medical training, pregnancy is a perfectly normal condition! Three - I do not need you to be… uhm, so bloody hyper attentive and all smarmy!"

"Louisa, I'm not being smarmy! I'm trying to be nice!"

"What you're doing is trying my patience!"

That shut him up and so I went on. "I'm going to try and get that job at the school, and we can try living together in your cottage, and we'll just have to see how it goes. Right?"

"I did ask you to move in," he sniffed.

"There is that." I sighed. He did ask me to and I wanted to. "Being thirty-seven, on my own, and pregnant in a bed-sit didn't seem like much fun."

"No. And foetal loss in the first trimester can be caused by a fall and even feeling unwell can be a sign of trouble. You mentioned you have a headache. Do you have chills or a fever?"

He touched my head and I slapped his hand away. "No Martin! I just have a headache, alright?"

Martin digested that then started up again. "You're certain you feel generally fine."

"What I'm feeling Martin is a general pain in the arse and it happens to be sitting on my right? Got it?"

He started the car and we headed for Portwenn.

Packing up my paltry possessions in the grotty bed-sit took all of an hour and then Martin called a removal service to collect the few boxes to have them sent to Portwenn.

"I feel like I'm running off," I said to Martin.

"No, it's not like that at all."

"Is it Martin? Is it? Skedaddle from the village and now London? I'll have to quit England entirely if I keep this up; burning my bridges left and right."

He sealed the last carton of books with packing tape. "You're joking." Other cartons were filled with clothing, shoes, and oddments.

"I'm not."

"And your school, the London one?"

She sighed. "Bit of a lost cause. Look we travel today, I can take Monday as a personal day, chat with the school Head Teacher, and hopefully…"

"Hopefully?"

"I need to work, Martin."

"You don't have to, you know."

"Martin, I'd go stark raving bonkers at home all day." My hand stole down to my belly in that tender way that expectant mums did; a gesture I used to find so pretentious. "And… when the time comes… I'll take half-term off."

"End of June." He sighed and inspected me. "Sure you're alright with this?"

I stepped over a carton, seeing Martin wince as I did so. "I'll have to be."

He held my arm. "Careful there."

My lip twitched nervously. "I'll be fine."

Now that same lip was dancing as the sign at the top of the village welcomed us to Portwenn. I rolled the window down and got a big lung of cold salt air. It was only then that I felt that this was reality and that my London adventure was in some odd alternate universe worthy of Dr. Who. I waved to Penhale sitting in his jeep on the verge and saw his jaw drop a mile when recognized me. "Now," I sighed, "I feel I can breathe, really breathe."

Martin grunted. ""It's a small village, Louisa."

"I know," I said. "I know."

"Miss Glasson's back then?" I heard Pauline ask Martin not ten minutes after we arrived at his cottage. I'd barely put my feet up on the sofa when there came a knock at the kitchen door. Pauline Lamb stood there in her usually eclectic finery, wrapped in a parka.

"Hi Pauline," I called to her as I moved into the kitchen. "And Al."

Pauline's eyes bugged out. "My gosh, Louisa, this is a surprise! You okay? Nobody had heard a thing from you at all!" We was worried; all of us!"

"The whole village wondered what was goin' on," Al mumbled. "And Pauline's been buggin' the Doc somethin' fierce to call you."

"No I haven't," muttered Pauline. "But I shoulda'."

Martin spoke. "Ahem, Louisa is fine, Pauline. And yes she is here," Martin told her. Then he groaned. "Oh God."

Standing behind Pauline was Bert Large and Penhale. "Bert, Joe, hi!" I waved.

Joe chuckled. "I was tellin' Doctor Ellingham that without you Portwenn School… it's not the same, what I been hearing. Real glad you're here. You stayin' Louisa?"

"Louisa! You are back!" Bert chuckled as he winked. "I was saying to Al just the other day, that our Miss Glasson would come back, uhm, someday." Then he got very serious. "You're staying right? The school's in a helluva mess from what I been hearing like Joe said. Oh, and these are for you." He held out a bunch of flowers. "They're a day old and not that great lookin'; best I could do on short notice."

Pauline said to Martin, "She's stayin' right? Or is this just a visit? You okay with this Doc? I know you been very sad, well as much sadness as you show compared to your normal look."

"Ah, yes, Louisa has come for a visit," Martin said warily.

I smiled broadly. "Actually I hope to be moving back."

"Oh?" said Penhale. "London not to your liking, then? Musta been all that crime, and pickpockets, and crime…" Martin was glowering at him so Joe shut up.

I chuckled. "No, no. Nothing like that at all." I took the flowers. "Thanks Bert."

Bert smiled. "It was Al's idea. And I'd planned on having the restaurant closed today, but we could be open, right Al? If you wanted to come by for dinner; sort of a welcome back dinner thingy."

Martin exhaled loudly. "No! Now if you don't mind, you're letting all the heat from my house, standing there yammering away with the kitchen door propped open. Now shoo. Go away!" He clapped his hands at them until they left then he sagged against the door.

"Well," I held the flowers. "That was nice. Might you have a…"

Martin went to the pantry and returned with a carafe which he gave to me. "Sorry about them."

"Nothing to be sorry for Martin. They're just being… you know, neighborly."

"More like nosy Parkers. Gossip travels in this village like a bush fire! Athlete's feet travels nearly as fast in the community!"

I arranged the flowers, most of which were sad looking. "I suppose the whole village knows by now." And I wasn't quite sure what I thought about it. Moving back to Portwenn was one thing, but the other… thing… that will be a bombshell.

Martin peered at his watch. "Been fifteen minutes, so I'd say yes."

"People talk, Martin." As I said it the room sort of swam about and I put out a hand to steady myself on a chair. "The way you say it, almost makes me think you don't like being here." That's when the world went very fuzzy.

Next a voice was yelling into my ear and I could almost answer through the cobwebs.

"Louisa! Louisa! My god! Louisa?" the voice said.

A hand was pawing at my neck and I tried to wave it off. "Uh, what?" I managed to get a word out.

An agitated Martin was peering at me and I felt the kitchen chair hard at my back and bottom. "Martin?"

"You passed out, I believe. Did you feel faint at all?" He peered into my eyes. "You slumped over."

"Sorta," I tried to stand but he pushed me back down.

"Stay. Don't move." He left and came back with his medical case. "Your blood pressure may be low."

"I did eat breakfast, you saw me."

"Shush." He plied his doctor's tools. "Hm… Blood pressure and pulse are normal."

"I didn't eat much of my sandwich on the train. I just had the salad."

He sighed. "Louisa, you may need to eat more frequent meals and more substantial ones. This event is likely due to low blood sugar." He took my temperature. "Normal."

"Sorry Martin. Maybe I haven't been eating as much as I might have."

"Oh?" He turned to the cabinet and came back with a glass of milk and a plate of digestives, chocolate ones. "I don't normally prescribe biscuits but the carbohydrates will quickly be absorbed increasing your blood sugar. We should get your notes sent down."

"I'd gained a few pounds is all and maybe, I was… not eating as much as usual. And wouldn't that be awkward to have you as my doctor?" I nibbled on a biscuit.

He sighed. "Louisa, you must, must maintain adequate nutrition, whether you are pregnant or not, but since you are…" He sighed. "There should be opening in Truro, if you are staying. Would be best to keep your pre-natal care in the same group as the delivery."

"Delivery? What delivery?" said an older woman's voice and there was Joan Norton peering in the door. "Louisa! My God I was so glad to hear that you've come back!"

"Hi Joan, it's really nice to see you!" I tried to stand but Martin pushed me back into the wooden chair.

"Let me give you a hug!" she put her strong arms around me and kissed my cheek. "How long are you staying? Hello Martin."

"Auntie Joan," Martin grunted.

"So nice you've come back for New Years! Perhaps you can cheer up my nephew. He's been a real gloomy Gus since you left Portwenn."

"I uhm," I looked at Martin who had a grim look on him, "I can try."

"So how long are you staying? You didn't say," Joan asked. "And Martin was saying something I didn't quite catch as I barged in. What was that about?" Joan went on in a rush, "And I've brought hotpot. I've got it out in the truck, along with Buddy."

"Oh, Joan, isn't it a little cold out there?" I said, "Won't your dog get cold?"

"Nonsense. Buddy will be fine - fur coat and all." She smiled, but it turned into a frown as Martin had a guarded look and I was twisting my hands. "Something's going on, isn't there? I may be an old woman but I'm not totally senile, just yet." She pulled out a kitchen chair and sat heavily. "Now, I'm not moving until you come clean."

Martin stood with his back to the sink and watched me as I looked back. We'd not discussed how or what to say about our circumstances and given it was only a day since we knew about the baby (and when did my pregnancy turn into the baby?) we'd barely come to terms with the reality.

Martin sighed while I pulled my hands apart and sat on them to stop fiddling. "I…" my voice failed.

Martin was slightly better. "Louisa has…"

Joan looked from him to me and back. "Stop."

"We haven't said anything," Martin said.

Joan drummed on the scarred wooden table and looked at us suspiciously. "That's what worries me. This isn't like you." She sighed. "No it is like Marty, but it's not like you, Louisa Glasson. Now," she stood, "I'm going to hobble out to my truck and get the hotpot." She put a hand on the door knob. "Perhaps you two will get some backbone and come up with a story you are willing to share."

In the vacuum of Joan's departure Martin sagged. "What do… we…"

"God, I don't know."

"Just that you've come to interview…"

"At the school."

"Might work."

I bit my lip. "It's true. Stu McKenzie said he'd set it up."

"Yes, but what about… the uhm… and us?"

"I'm staying here; we should tell her that."

"Better than the pub," he sneered.

"I could… if you wanted me to."

"No! No! Stay…"

The door flew open and Joan bustled in. "Cold out there," she said and hooked the door closed, but Buddy managed to sneak inside. "Buddy followed me, didn't you boy?"

The brown and white terrier wagged his tail happily then sat by her feet.

Martin yelled, "Out! Get that thing out of here!"

Joan laughed. "Oh, Marty, it's just a dog and a little one at that."

"We'll he's not welcome!" Martin blustered. "Filthy animal."

Joan pushed Buddy into the pantry and closed the door. "There. Happy?"

"Now he'll be contaminating my pantry!"

Joan went to the cooker and switched it on. "We'll just heat that up." She smiled at me. "If Martin won't tell me, perhaps you will, Louisa. How long are you staying in the village?" She hugged me again. "More important, how are you? You look like you've been feeding well."

I made questioning faces to Martin over Joan's shoulder and he rolled his eyes in return. He silently made the words I don't know.

I grinned at her ruddy face when she released me from the hug. Joan did know how to hug, so unlike the rest of the Ellingham's. But I'd been trying to teach Martin and things were progressing. "I'm fine, Joan. Been pretty well."

Joan grinned. "Now that wasn't hard." Her face changed though. "I see two suitcases. Uhm, you're not staying in the pub, are you?"

"Uhm, Louisa's funds are…"

"Tight," I threw out while fiddling with my hair.

"And… she…. I thought, we thought… she might stay here," Martin managed to say.

Joan rolled her eyes. "Oh Marty you have the same look you had when you tried to sneak that stray dog into your room. You must have been about nine, I think. I am delighted that Louisa is staying in your cottage."

I chuckled. "Martin had a dog?"

"Oh, no not really! Poor little thing was a pup from the Pratt's farm next door - got lost. He went back the next day, but puppy had worms; left an awful mess on his bedroom rug. Remember Marty?" Joan laughed. "He's not liked dogs since."

"Oh," I said. "Didn't know that." It explained so much about Martin Ellingham, MD.

"Ever since he's had a thing about dogs and germs."

Martin clearly was trying to turn invisible and I had to say something. "Joan, it's like this…"

Joan slid the casserole into the oven. "Now in thirty minutes we can eat. Do you have salad and some bread?"

Martin nodded, clearly afraid to speak. "Fridge and bread box."

"Good." Joan started bustling about setting the table for three. "I know you prefer fish Martin, but the hotpot is chicken, and no it's not one of layers. The butcher had a special last week."

Martin sighed deeply and obviously wanted to be somewhere else. I took the plunge. "Joan," I said. "There's something I, uhm, we want to tell you."

"Probably earth shattering," she mumbled. "You were dating, sort of, after great delay, got engaged, and you had a wedding, but chalk and cheese that you are, you didn't get married. End of story." She grimaced. "Sorry Louisa, that's the way it is. You've clearly come back for a visit and that's fine. I've missed you dear. Can't truly say how much Martin missed you, but I have - the whole village has missed you." She came over and patted my hand. "That it?"

Martin shook his head, no.

I stood up and walked to Martin, who looked so, so afraid and my heart ached for the truth that Joan had just spoken, at least the truth as she knew it. I took Martin's hand and he hungrily grabbed my fingers. "Joan, Martin came up to London and asked me to come back."

"Oh? Amazing; good for you Marty!"

"So here's the thing. I did, well, obviously, I am here…"

Joan looked from me to Martin and back. "Oh."

I had to pause as I felt a small tear come to one eye. "London was too hard - too lonely. And…"

"Oh, Louisa, we're all your friends here in Portwenn, you know that. I'm sorry that London didn't work out." Joan nodded. "Portwenn is your home, I know that. You grew up here."

Martin squeezed my fingers. "Joan, I asked Louisa to come because…"

"Because?" Joan asked and her eyes were wide.

"Uhm…" Martin stopped. "Auntie Joan you know I'm not very good…"

"At talking yes. Not an earth shattering admission but you've always been that way." She sighed. "Since I got here you two have been dancing around like a fish on a line. Now," she pointed a finger at us. "Get on with it. I'd like to be able to eat dinner without worrying that something awful has happened. Is it? Awful? That it?"

"No," said Martin.

I looked at Martin and he pursed his lips. "Right," I said to him. "So here's the thing… it's not a very big thing… that is it's not very big at the moment."

"My God!" Joanie sprang up. "You're sick, that it? Oh Louisa, I am so sorry. What can I do?" Joan swept me into her arms, half sobbing.

"Uhm, Auntie Joan, it's not like that at all," said Martin.

"Oh Joan…" I whispered into her ear. "I'm not sick. I'm pregnant!" As my tears mingled with hers and Martin hugged both of us, I felt that Portwenn magic had truly brought me home.