Chapter 4: Inspiration

"MARTIN?! JAMES? Are you there?"

"Yes, we're… here," I respond just as we turn from the landing to reveal a much disheveled Louisa propped up in our bed.

"Oh, there he is! James, how's Mummy's lit'le lamb? I've missed you so much!" she cries out, with her arms stretched out limply. "Oh, Martin, please bring James over to me here."

"Careful, Louisa, you are meant to be on bedrest."

I silently carry James to Louisa's arms who's already begun squealing jubilantly and fluttering his limbs in anticipation of being lavished with tender nuzzles and sweet snuggles. I watch them together like this as she fills him again and again full with life. As she does, she animates something in me that I might never have know was even there, if it were not for her. If not for this precious family she's made for us. Louisa sets James face-to-face in her lap and begins to sing one of her little songs to him– an utterly ridiculous, absurd, unrestrained, sweet, wonderful, beautiful little song she punctuates throughout with tender kisses at each count, all to James Henry's utter delight [1]:

"Yahn, tayn, tether-

Daddy, Mum, and James;

Kis-ses, kis-ses,

All for James!

Mether, mumph, hither-

then we count again:

with lither, auver, dauver,

'til dic makes it ten!"

"You like that, don't you? Yes!" Louisa beams to James Henry's enthusiastic giggles. "Shall we have more kisses for my sweet little lamb? Yes, we need more kisses, don't we?!":

"Yahn, tayn, tether-

Daddy, Mum, and James;

Kis-ses, kis-ses,

All for you!

Mether, mumph, hither-

then we count again:

with lither, auver, dauver,

'til dic counts to ten!"

[2]

"Martin, you're staring," Louisa states once the laughter finally ebbs, eyeing me apprehensively whilst shifting James into her lap as best her patchwork of bandages will allow. "I already know that I'm a complete mess, there's no need to examine me as if you're about to diagnose me for a prolapsed [3] ponytail or somethin'."

"No," I say softly looking into her flawless face with hair wildly askew in rumpled old bedclothes and not a hint of makeup that unmasks feelings in me to overflowing, "No, you're beautiful, Louisa. Do you know that? Do you have any idea just how truly beautiful you are and how fortunate we are, James and I, because of you?"

"What?!" Louisa shrieks in fright. "What's happened? What is it?! Oh my, you're in some sort of danger or, wait– someone's been taken hostage?! That's it, isn't it! Someone's watching you, right now, you've been threatened somehow and unless you say or do certain things you'll put yourself or– wait, someone else into some terrible danger. Oh, Martin, let me help! Tell me if it's not safe, let me know if it's not safe by blinking hard three times! Please, Martin! Tell me by blinking for me!" she cries protectively clutching James to her chest.

"It's fine, Louisa. We're safe," I say as calmly as I can, intent to soothe Louisa's sudden acute agitation. "We're all perfectly safe."

"Wait– you're sure it's not another deranged patient having gone off their meds and taken hostages?! A stalker? Oh gawd, not another Mrs. Tishell?! Oh wait, it's one of Ruth's patients, and they're having a psychotic episode, aren't they?!" her queries growing more dire. "That's it, it's Aunt Ruth! Oh, Martin, something's happened to Aunt Ruth and she's not safe! We have to help her– that's what you're trying to tell me, isn't it?"

"Listen to me, Louisa, everyone is safe and no one is in any sort of danger– well… " my certainty wavers, "perhaps PC Penhale is a danger, but strictly speaking, only to himself. But everyone else, including Aunt Ruth, is perfectly fine and perfectly safe– at least she was when we left her about an hour ago."

She worries her lip momentarily before her eyes again grow wild, "Oh gawd, Martin! Your eyes just then as I was singing to James, they were glassy and you seemed almost to be trembling, I should've spotted it! You've been drinking, haven't you?! That's it then! How could you, Martin?! How could you?" she pleads frantically before calming herself to ask solemnly, "Wait… you don't drink. You never drink– do you? I mean, you haven't, have you– been drinking, Martin?"

"No, I don't drink, you know that… " I attest. "Well, other than that one time… I mean– no, definitely not. I have not been drinking, Louisa."

"No, sorry… Sorry, sorry, of course not. I still feel so groggy and my head feels funny, and I've been so tired, that's all," she explains rubbing her temples only to stop abruptly before shrieking, "Wait! It's that global transient amnesia thingy, isn't it?! Like Joe's ex-wife! Oh, Martin, you've suffered a 'physically or emotionally stressful event' that's what's caused you to completely forget who you are! It's alright, it's gonna be alright, Martin, I promise. We love you and we're here for you and we're gonna take such good care of you–"

"Louisa, it's not transient global amnesia and I'm perfectly lucid," I reassure her, "probably."

"But… " she starts to object before stopping to glance about at her surroundings and intently touching, holding, and grasping at James for consolation. "Me?! You're saying it's me?! But I'm not… I mean, I remember everything, it's all here– my memory's perfectly intact! I remember my name, it's Louisa'r, Louisa'r Ellingham– your wife. This is our son, James Henry. You are my husband, Doctor Martin Ellingham. We live in Port Wenn, this is our home. I just had an operation on my brain. Today's date is–"

"Shhh… " I reach over to tenderly brush the hair from her her eyes when she cups her face gently into my hand as I tell her. "You're fine, you're perfectly fine– I'm certain of it."

"Sure?" she asks, calm again– her eyes peering up at me which before long begin to carefully scan across my head as if scrutinising me for contusions or signs of concussion.

"Yes," I assure her again, tentatively extending my thumb from her cheek so as to examine her lower eyelid's conjunctiva and sclera before… "Harrumph… fine. You've just had a well-deserved rest and you'll start feeling better soon, you'll see," as I divert my thumb to tenderly stroke my beloved's cheek instead.

"I woke just before you and James came back and my head was feeling– is feeling, so… fuzzy, everything is muddled and I'm still having trouble making sense of everything. I do know that I still need time to think… about us," she says gravely. "That's all I wanted, you know before, to go somewhere to give it a think and try to make some sense of it all so we can talk. I just wanted to go–"

"… to the Braddock Folk Festival!" I interject, clasping my hands together ebulliently. "We'll go and spend the whole day together at the Braddock Folk Festival– just the three of us!"

"Wot?!"

"Yes! A... a friend… my new friend, Bill… Bill-something or other, he told me all about it– the Festival, that is. Let's do it– we'll go as soon as you're well enough. It'll be fun."

"Mart-tin?! You've just now used the words 'friend' and 'fun'– non-ironically, in nearly the same sentence!" Louisa says, incredulous. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing. I just wanted for us to go, that's all," I say plainly. "They'll be music, lots of music… and singing too. We could go and sing; singing is good."

"Sing?! So what– now you sing as well as dance?!"

"No, not really. But you could sing. You could sing one of those little songs you're always singing to James," I say into her sceptical eyes, "and me, well, I could do… something– else! I thought you might like to do something together like that. It would be, so– romantic, don't you think?"

"Wait, romantic? What do you mean by 'romantic'? Like romantic-'romantic' and how other people think it means, or how you compared it to wasting away with an agonisingly fatal disease? Remember when Sam from that awful Oakwood family was sick with tuberculosis and you couldn't stop carrying on about 'very stupid people' who called it the 'romantic disease' because suffering from tuberculosis was once considered to be the height of romance– do you remember that, Martin?"[4]

"No! I mean 'yes', I do remember but, no, I didn't mean it like… well, I don't mean it like that– now," I demur. "What I meant was that it'll be you and me and James, the whole family, out together enjoying ourselves at the festival. Wouldn't that be… nice?"

"Hold on! How exactly do you mean 'nice'? Not like our last… well, our first family outing, really– at the last 'Harbour Days', remember? People would smile at us as we passed by and you'd accost them to let you test their gag reflex and then you'd insist on giving them a tetanus jab, just in case!"[5]

"Umm… well– no, not like that. I was just thinking that after everything that's happened, it would be nice for us to do something, you know… a change."

"A change? Well, that would definitely be… Which speaking of a 'change', I was wondering… unless of course I'm still be dreaming or I've finally gone totally bodmin… It's just that, I'd been up to use the loo just as you came home, and I saw'r– well, I thought I saw'r… I mean, I could have sworn that when I looked out the window… " Louisa takes a deep dilatory sigh, "Okay, here's the thing, Martin– I thought I saw you just then petting Aunt Ruth's little dog, Buddy."

"Um… yes, I did– er, we did," I answer despite the impulse to deny it.

"You did?! Well, that's… " she says fluttering her eyes in disbelief. "You, the dog, you, your hand? Hmm… You actually did then? Well, if you wouldn't mind, Martin, because it would really help me to understand, could you please just tell me: why?"

"I wanted to," I say outright.

Louisa stares long and blankly at me before she finally speaks again, "Oh… well, right… you, 'wanted to'. That explains absolutely–" she winces as James shifts uncomfortably in her lap. "Would you– please, Martin… " she says offering me to take James but not before she plants additional kisses amongst his tufts of hair.

"Well, when I watched you through the window, my head was still swirling and I wasn't sure if it was still from the medication or what, and to tell the truth, and I was still feeling so confused about everything," Louisa continues as I settle James into my lap, "It's just that you hate that dog– you've always hated that dog. Well, you've always acted as if you hated it. Actually, you act as if you hate every dog, well, every animal, actually… Come to think of it, you act as if you hate just about everyone and everything… " she deliberates aloud as if engaged in an escalating row. "Maybe 'hate' isn't quite the right word, it's more like you find them repugnant– animals and people, that is. So why now instead of your usual repugnance, and hostility really, would you reach out to kindly pet little Buddy? I mean, you not only petted this dog but you allowed James Henry to pet it as well, without a worry of being attacked or contaminated or whatever," she ponders before her gaze fixes on me. "So, tell me, Martin, why would you confront this dog now that, for whatever reason, you've always found so repulsive?" she asks cautiously.

"I… we… umm… wanted to– like I said," I repeat. "We did wash up after, Louisa. I've not completely lost the plot."

"Hmm… " Louisa muses. "You know, Martin if you're just putting on a show or you're trying to get me more confused, then it's not going to– to… " she trails off.

"To what, darling?"

"See, that's what I mean! If this is just your idea'r of playing at some role or just putting up a façade and acting all smarmy…" she pauses in mid-scold.

"I'm not," I gently protest.

"Mmm… " she hems. "Well, all this lying about in hospital, awake or asleep or mostly just trying to sleep, has kept my mind ruminating about certain things that I keep trying my best to understand.

"The thing is, I've never been one to deny that people in this village have their share of faults and are far from perfect including yours truly, I suppose," she gestures stiffly to herself. "But what I keep coming back to and what I really can't understand is the student's Sports Day and why you harbour these feelings you have towards the children. You're rude to them no matter what!"

"They were rude first," I grumble.

"You know, Martin, that's what I'd expect to hear from my Year Three students having just been given detention." she says dismissively.

"Hmm, yes– constriction of the pupils."

"Wait… what?!" she says distractedly.

"Umm… miosis, it's part of the pupillary response used for assessing general physiology or certain pathologies, that's all."

"Oh, right… Sorry, for a moment there I thought you'd made some sort of joke," she says rubbing at her forehead still more bemused than amused, despite a very slight smile that appears. "Which would be funny, considering that you tend to treat jokes as if they were germs to be avoided. Although, I suppose I should be relieved that at least one of us is starting to sound more like themselves again."

"As if I might treat laughter as a serious public health issue because it's contagious," I say in a desiccated tone,"It was just something that Penhale suggested."

"Right… " Louisa remarks protractedly. "So, what was I going to say? Oh, the children… and school Sports Day," I gulp heavily as she recalls this. "I'd thought before that our Sports Day would've been a great chance for you to reach the children– on your own terms and even perhaps, engage them and even interact with them… maybe?" she inquires inspiringly. "I thought you might actually get to know them, as themselves, and they could get to know you too– and maybe, just maybe, even the real you," she flashes me her warmest of smiles.

James' reacts unselfconsciously to the display of his mother's smile, smiling happily himself, babbling and patting at his daddy's leg that he sits now attentively astride.

"So how was that so terrible, Martin?" Louisa asks in a very different countenance. "The children weren't rude to you, they were children! Or did you think the children were rude to you for seeking your acknowledgement and maybe even your praise for what they'd hoped to accomplish that day? Or did you think them rude for gathering to eagerly listen to you, to learn from you? Or did you think them rude for wanting you to share with them the importance of staying fit and maintaining good health? Or just for perhaps it was for wanting to interact with you? You had been able to at least share that much of yourself when the village gathered together to say goodbye with you at Aunt Joan's funeral, remember?"

"Mmm," I acknowledge guiltily.

"Believe it or not, the whole village truly admires you for your earnestness in your role as their doctor. It was that devotion and that way of caring about people that first attracted me to you. So when I first asked you to lead our Sports Day ceremony I was so pleased that you would not only be coming, but that you had wanted to come. You said, 'Why shouldn't I want to come, Louisa? Shouldn't I want to instruct the children in the need for proper exercise and good health?' Which I thought was wonderful if it actually meant that you wanted to do anything beyond that castle-keep of your consulting room. It wasn't like I had to convince you to do it or that I'd waited to ask you to do it only at the last minute.

"So in the end, it all became just too much for me to bear to watch you flee again emotionally, that is. I do recognise now that when I'd first asked you about Sports Day that it was before your haemophobia had returned and your mother had turned up and definitely before you took such a turn from this– dark shadow that brought about this, this– crisis, and I'm sorry for that, Martin. I'm sorry for this crisis which, apparently, I wasn't able to divine any more than you were able to share with me anything about or anything about this struggle you were having with yourself."

I swallow solemnly as Louisa pauses to forlornly draw the blankets about herself.

"Thank you, Martin– again, for coming after me and saving my life, that much I'm sure of. You are my hero, Martin– you've always been my hero. I've always known that I could depend on you, as strong and solid that can always be counted on to do his duty. But, I've also always known that you are much more than just that rock I once compared you to.[6] Who you are, Martin, is much more than any doctor or surgeon or medical practitioner, of any kind, could ever be, no matter how brilliant or capable," she tells me animatedly. "Your identity, Martin, who you really are is so much more than that– and that is more than enough for James and me, if only you would let it be."

My son reaches up to my cheek splaying his perfectly formed fingers against my inert face to try to nudge, push, knead, and coax from it a new expression, an expression– any expression.

"I do understand, Martin, that it's been a lot for you to deal with," Louisa continues. "You were already at sea for the five minutes you had to learn to relate to us as a 'couple', remember our first date– Holly's concert? Then in barely five-minute intervals you had to learn to relate as fiancé and fiancée, as lovers, then as one another's former betrothed, then as a father and a mother-to-be, then as father and mother to our son, then as co-inhabitants and co-parents, and only in the last five minutes as husband and wife. True, it was me, all of me in every instance, the best and the worst, I suppose," she says resignedly. "But what truly frightens me now, more than anything, is you now relating to me as your patient," she pronounces despairingly. "It seems that I finally have the sort of relationship with the man I love that he disdains more than anything in the world– his patient."

"My 'patient'?" I murmur. "That can't be… "

I can't begin to tell Louisa just how wrong that can be, when she means everything to me, everything precious and vital, tender, unselfish, beautiful, and sanguine. I can't begin to express to her how much I'm truly prepared to do for her, to say to her, to keep from ever losing her, and to make each other happy for ever and ever. I can't begin to explain how I came to feel so lost these past few months after having found what I'd wanted my whole life. And I can't think how to begin to help Louisa understand that, somehow, something has changed, that a veil has been lifted, and that all I deserve is right...

"...Now, of course, half this bloody village will somehow believe that I got what I deserved," Louisa growls recoiling me back to attention, "as all these bandages are somehow what I had coming for trying somehow to change you in the first place. Meantime, the other bloody-half believes I got what I deserved for somehow letting you change me into this horrible bad-mannered shrill that chases after her husband and blowing her stupid whistle!" she complains bitterly, her days of confinement now beginning to weigh. "I wouldn't be surprised if they're drawing straws right now, as we speak, preparing to dispatch their nosiest busybody for a wager on which one of us will be running away this time! Well, bugger 'em all!" she fulminates. "Sometimes, this whole bloody village… I could just scream!"

"Louisa, I can't–"

"... discuss your patients, I know, Martin. You can't discuss your patients and now I'm your patient," Louisa says defeatedly.

I stare back at Louisa in silence, unable to speak, unable to dispute this antinomy, unable to articulate my love and my feelings for Louisa, and now more cataplectic than ever despite wanting now more than ever to tell her, to say the right thing– to say anything. This deep welling of want is suddenly interrupted by a sharp rap at the front door. I hesitate only to gesture pitiably until turning to make my way downstairs with James. No sooner do we descend past the landing that another impatient rap on the door is followed by an exasperated cry from the bedroom, "Arghhhh!"

to be continued… Next: A time for reflection

[1] a lullaby sung in the common melody of Baa Baa Black Sheep.

[2] Yan, Tyan, Tethera,… Dic [underlined]: the numbers 1, 2, 3,... 10 for counting sheep in early Cornish derived from Brythonic-Celtic languages and used as a traditional sheep counting-rhyming system. This vigesimal (numerical base twenty) counting system was designed for its lyrical form to simplify its learning and use by historically illiterate shepherds keeping constant count whilst watching over their flocks. Such counting systems have many variants particular to each region of Britain and was still in common use by shepherds into the early twentieth century.

[3] prolapse- to fall or slip out of place

[4] tuberculosis- this ancient deadly scourge became popularly known as the romantic disease in the first half of the nineteenth century from the belief that it bestowed the sufferer with greater emotional arousal, enhanced sensitivity, and a redemptive and spiritual purity that came to define Romanticism and the Romantic Era. The long, slow decline of those afflicted with active tuberculosis (also known as consumption) contributed to its mystique and allure for enabling a "good death" and popularised women's use of makeup to pale themselves in imitation of the so-called "consumptive look". The ideal of lovers' purity and temporal passions associated with tuberculosis was cultivated by the English literature of Byron, Shelley, Keats, and Coleridge, and has influenced modern beliefs of romance as has been depicted in literature, art, and film ever since.

Louisa refers to the episode Love Thy Neighbor when tuberculosis spreads to her new student Sam Oakwood. When Louisa had previously voiced concerns to Martin about another student with a measles-like rash, she receives a lecture about "very stupid" people abandoning reason for irrational feelings that dissuade them from taking proven vaccinations. Since placing feelings above reason is the essence of Romanticism, Louisa might well then have endured such a lecture concerning 'romance'.

[5] tetanus- the disease caused by bacterial infection of Clostridum tetani that enters the body through a deep open wound as a spore that replicates rapidly to release a potent neurotoxin that causes severe muscle spasms in improperly immunised individuals. An early symptom of tetanus is the characteristic facial expression known as a rictus grin or a sardonic smile. The standard diagnostic for suspected cases of infection is a simple medical spatula inserted into the individual's mouth that tests for either a healthy gag reflex or biting down to indicate a positive result (hence the disease's alternate name, lockjaw). Since there is no blood test or other deterministic test, proper immunisation and periodic boosters with the tetanus vaccine are the best means for the disease's prevention (as depicted in the episode Remember Me).

[6] [Blackpool, Brighton] rock- A long cylindrical "stick of rock" of boiled sugar confectionery flavoured of peppermint or spearmint and available traditionally from holiday resorts in the UK. It is fashioned of several coloured flat layers that when rolled together prior to hardening spells out its identity throughout its entire length (typically the name of the resort where it originates).

In the episode Erotomania, Louisa likens Martin to a "stick of rock" and as "Doc Martin, through and through" when Martin reveals only another long medical recitation despite their both being thoroughly drunk. Although this metaphorical comparison may seem no more than the connotations for the common mineral 'rock' (strong, solid, and reliable) to those who have indulged in the thoroughly unhealthy sweet treat of Brighton 'rock', its connotations are but predictable, uniform, stiff, uninspired, and unanimated. Yet it is only once Louisa begins to resign herself to just these meanings in spite of Martin's inebriation, does Martin finally unmask his true self and his true feelings.