Author's note: Thank you to all who have been reading and reviewing! In this chapter, I use creative license with the timeline of the show, as well as paraphrase the conversation between Mark and the Doc from Series 1, Episode 4…we'll call it the "Big Boy" conversation. ;)
Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures.
CHAPTER FOUR
By Sunday morning, the extra stress of things at the surgery had taken its toll. I was both physically and mentally exhausted, and planned to have a lie-in—something in which I rarely indulged. I was not scheduled on call that weekend and was looking forward to a day of peace and quiet. My latest clock project was in pieces on the kitchen table, and I planned to spend most of the day finishing the repairs it needed to become operable again.
I was able to sleep about an hour later than I usually did, and then stayed in bed a little while longer, enjoying the distant sound of the sea from my window. I was just thinking about getting up and beginning my morning routine when my mobile rang from the nightstand. I groaned loudly. Who on earth would be calling this early on a Sunday?
'Ellingham,' I answered testily.
'Mart, it's Chris. Sorry to call so early on your day off, but I think I've found someone for your receptionist position.'
I snapped to attention, sitting up in bed. 'Really? So soon?'
'Yes. I'm just as surprised as you are. The reason I'm calling is because she's available to interview today and is in the area—believe it or not, she's staying at my house,' Chris chuckled. 'The whole thing has been quite unusual.'
'Er…why is she staying with you?' I asked, confused. 'Who is she?'
'Sara's sister Rebecca came for a visit this weekend and brought her old college roommate along—the three of them spent the day out together yesterday, doing whatever women do on a day out…nails done or whatever…' Chris trailed off. 'Anyway, last night we all had dinner together and this friend, Anna, mentioned she was looking for work in the area. She just happens to be a registered nurse.'
'You're joking,' I answered in disbelief. 'And she's not working right now?'
'No, up until two months ago, she was working for a GP in London, had been for three years. She left the job to make an unexpected trip home to the States. She's American.'
'Oh, God,' I grumbled. A good portion of the Americans I had come in contact with in my career had been completely insufferable. Chris laughed.
'Now hold on, don't pass judgment just yet. She's very smart, warm, and funny…I think she would be perfect for you. She only got back two weeks ago and has been staying with Rebecca in Bude.'
'And she can't go back to her old job?' I inquired.
'She does have the option, actually. They offered, but she is really hoping to find something here in Cornwall. Now, I promised the kids I'd take them to Portwenn today for a romp on the beach, and we were all going to come and make a day of it—Anna too. Would you be available to interview her while we're there?' Chris finished. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was anxious for me to agree.
'Yes, of course. If you think she would be suitable, I trust your judgment.'
'Excellent! How does two o'clock sound?'
'That should be fine,' I told him.
We said our goodbyes and hung up, and I already felt as if a weight had been lifted from me. If Chris thought this Anna would be the right person for the job, then he was probably right; he had known me for a very long time and knew how I ran my surgery. I just hoped that she wouldn't mind if her nursing training was sorely underused, besides the blood work and the occasional jab. I supposed that would remain to be seen.
After showering, shaving, and breakfast, I had a bit of time to work on my clock…which unfortunately had quite a long way to go before it would be functional again. While I ate lunch, I used the time to think over some interview questions and important things I would need to tell the interviewee about the routine of the surgery. By 1:30 pm, I was in the consulting room making notes when there was a knock on the door. She was early.
But it wasn't my interviewee at the door; it was Mark Mylow.
'Hi, Doc…uh, look, I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but something has been worrying me and I was wonderin'…' he stammered.
'Is this a legitimate medical concern, Mark?' And if so, why did it have to be now?
'Well…um, yes, in a matter of speaking…'
I sighed, and opened the door wider to let him in. 'Go through,' I said brusquely, hoping to address the problem and get him out of there as quickly as possible.
I sat down behind my desk while he nervously fidgeted. 'Um, well…as you know, I haven't been hugely successful with…members of the opposite sex…' he began. '…and, uh, lately I've been wondering if maybe the problem is a, uh….size thing. Ah…apparently, no matter what a woman says, size…does matter.'
I stared at him dubiously. 'Um…take a seat,' I instructed. He sat across from me, looking down at the floor. 'Do you feel you…have a problem?' I asked.
'Well, you can't really tell, can you, so I was hoping you could tell me.'
'I should refer you…' I said weakly.
'I just thought you might know what's normal.'
'There's a range of normality…'
'It's not like I've measured…but do you think…six? Six would be normal?'
Oh, God. Was I really having this conversation? 'I'd say six was normal, yeah…yeah,' I quickly answered. 'Good. That's that sorted.'
Mark took a deep breath. 'Right.' He rose and moved toward the door, and I prayed that was the end of it. No such luck.
'So, sort of five-ish would be a bit…' he added worriedly.
'Not necessarily…' I backtracked.
'…and a bit…less than five wouldn't be good, would it?' Mark finished.
'I'd have to make inquiries,' I told him with finality. At this point it would have been hard to determine which one of us was the most uncomfortable. 'Really, Mark, I don't think you have anything to worry about, but if it would make you feel better, perhaps I could do some research for you…?'
His relief was palpable. 'Well, if you wouldn't mind, Doc, I would appreciate it. Thanks.' Eager to end our conversation, I stood and ushered him through the door of the consulting room. I glanced at my watched and was glad to see there were still a few minutes before my interview was to begin…if I could just get Mark out the door without any unnecessary, inane conversation…
'So, Elaine's gone, I hear…always was a flighty one. Haven't heard from her, have you?' Mark asked as we made our way through the waiting area.
'No,' was my clipped reply.
'Taking your time finding a new receptionist…can't say that I blame you; don't want just anyone coming in and taking over, I expect,' he went on conversationally. 'How's the search going, if you don't mind me asking?'
Just then, there was a soft knock on the door. Before I could answer it, I heard it open and a voice call out, 'hello?' And then the owner of the voice stepped in, causing both Mark and I to stop dead in our tracks.
How to describe her? 'Beautiful' wasn't the right word, though she was indeed very lovely—golden brown curls, full lips, and large, expressive eyes that spoke on their own. She exuded this…essence, warm and calm; it was like she was lit from within. I was drawn to her immediately. My heart quite literally began to pound in my chest like I had just gone up Roscarrock Hill at a dead run. She looked at the two of us standing there stupidly, and smiled. At that moment, I knew I was done for; it was all I could do to keep from falling on my knees in front of her. I felt giddy and breathless and confused…and absolutely ridiculous. God, what was the matter with me with me? I heard Mark inhale sharply beside me, no doubt experiencing a similar reaction.
'Hello,' she said brightly. 'I'm looking for Doctor Ellingham.'
I glanced at Mark, who continued to gape at her. 'I'm…Doctor Ellingham,' I answered, finding my voice. The woman walked toward me, hand extended, and I shook it in a trance.
'I'm Anna Harper…I'm here to interview for the receptionist position.'
'You're hired,' Mark blurted, and then realizing what he had said, blushed furiously. 'I mean…er, sorry…what I meant to say was I hope you're hired…um, I mean…' Anna hid a smile, obviously amused by Mark's blunder. He recovered somewhat and introduced himself.
'I'm Mark Mylow, Portwenn's PC.' He turned to me. 'Um…right…I'll be off then, Doc. Very nice meeting you, Anna,' he stammered all the way to the front door, making his exit.
'Er…local law enforcement,' I lamely remarked, trying to gather my thoughts. I somehow had to regain some of the professionalism that seemed to have left me when Anna walked in. My brain and my mouth no longer felt connected to one another.
'I apologize for being a little early; I seem to have caught you off guard,' Anna said.
'What? No, no, not at all…please, come through,' I replied, and she followed me into the consulting room. I sat down behind my desk and took a deep breath, gesturing for Anna to sit in the chair across from me. 'Right…shall we begin?'
'I don't know how much Chris told you about me. I guess it's pretty obvious I'm American,' she started, 'but I studied in London after graduating high school and decided to come back to England about three years ago.'
'Yes, Chris said you had been working for a GP in London, but recently left the job to briefly return home,' I confirmed. 'What part of the United States are you from?'
'Virginia, about an hour east of Richmond. A tiny little town on the Chesapeake Bay,' she answered. 'I had some business to take care of there—I've been back in England two weeks.'
'And you're certain you don't want to return to London? Chris mentioned you'd rather find employment here in Cornwall. You do realize this position would be more filing and appointment setting than actual nursing?' I pressed. She smiled, causing my composure to waver once again.
'I'm looking forward to a slower pace, actually. London has its merits, but it's a lot difference since I was in college. And I've always loved it here. My father is a waterman—he's been a blue crab fisherman for over thirty years, so I grew up on the water. Portwenn feels a lot like home,' Anna explained. 'I used to come here quite often when I was in school; I dated a boy from Wadebridge.'
I could only assume visiting Portwenn was a far cry from actually residing there, where everyone knew the business of everyone else and had no qualms about discussing it. I was sure they would have plenty to gossip about if I hired an American to work in the surgery instead of one of the local imbeciles.
'You went to University in London…studying nursing?' I asked. It seemed odd for her to travel to another country for training when there were many good schools in the United States.
To my surprise, she chuckled. 'No. Believe it or not, I had a music scholarship to the Royal Conservatory of Music. I had every intention of becoming a concert pianist.'
I raised my eyebrows, impressed. The Royal Conservatory was a prestigious school. She must have been extremely gifted to be accepted. 'Quite a departure from nursing,' I commented.
'Yes, I just decided I wanted to do something more…useful. Of course I still play, and I give lessons here and there for some extra income. Being a concert pianist, though—after a while, it just seemed a bit silly, I don't know. I certainly don't regret my decision.'
Anna had brought her CV, and I scanned it briefly. Chris had been right; she seemed to be perfect for the job, and met all the criteria I had stubbornly held out for.
'Right…I think I have all the information I need. How soon could you start?' I asked, and she stared at me, surprised.
'You mean, that's it? I'm hired? Just like that?' Anna exclaimed.
'Well, yes…I certainly don't see why not. You exceed all the qualifications,' I answered. 'Do you have any prior obligations that would prevent you from starting immediately?'
She thought for a minute. 'No, not really. Obviously I'll need to find somewhere to stay; I'm sure I could continue staying with Rebecca in Bude until I have a place here, but I'd rather not commute if I don't have to.'
I stood to walk her out, and Anna stood as well. I couldn't help but notice how the jeans and jumper she wore accentuated the curves of her body. She was very petite—a foot shorter than I at least—but not rail thin; her proportions were soft and lovely. I wondered briefly how I was going to manage my daily duties as GP when I would have her in such close proximity. Would my pounding heart and racing pulse calm down once I was used to being around her?
'The, uh…pub has rooms to let, they may be able to accommodate you. There is also any number of vacation rentals…'I was interrupted by the sound of the back door slamming and Aunty Joan calling loudly, 'Martin, are you in?'
I opened the consulting room door to find my aunt standing there, looking very pale, her hand wrapped in a towel that had been soaked through with blood.
