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Chapter Nine
Joan remained in Intensive Care for the next two days. After his initial relief that the surgery had gone well, Martin was still apprehensive. The main surgery had been followed up soon after by a minor blood transfusion, and the consultant kept Martin informed throughout every stage of the process. He was unwilling to leave her in case her condition changed in any way. In his twelve years as a surgeon he'd seen many cases the same as Aunty Joan's – and a high percentage hadn't made it off of his operating table. If he was honest, he was amazed at his aunt's progress and knew that she wasn't out of the woods yet. But she was a fighter, he'd always known that. After two days she was improving well so she was moved to the high dependency ward and he reluctantly returned to the surgery, where a full day of overdue Christmas appointments were waiting for him. The villagers concerned about Joan were left tutting with disapproval as he snarled that he had no time for time wasters. He wanted to get surgery over as quickly as possible so that he could go back and visit Joan. He skipped lunch and spent an hour on the phone to his solicitor.
Mr Thomas Clifford was pleased to hear from Martin – as pleased as his emotional range would allow him anyway. Dr Ellingham only rang with serious cases, ones that were almost certain to succeed, and he stuck to the facts without getting emotional or telling his life story. This was of course the same reason that Martin liked using Mr Clifford – he didn't chat and was a brilliant solicitor. Soon they hung up, Mr Clifford having agreed to take Joan's case. Martin still couldn't bear to think about what would have happened if they hadn't been in hospital when her aneurysm had ruptured – if it had happened at the farm there would have been no chance of getting to the hospital on time.
xxx
Louisa was bored. When the school had broken up for the holidays she'd filled her days preparing for Christmas, having started a bit late this year. Then, after Christmas had been and gone she was left with nothing to fill her days, apart from watching the festive repeats on telly and wandering about London, which was now covered in slippery icy slush. Living in Portwenn all her life, she'd not experienced a proper white Christmas before and it had been quite magical. Now though, it was just cold and annoying. She still lived very close to Holly, so still spent a lot of time attending dreary social events for want of something better to do. I miss being headmistress, she thought. There was always something interesting to plan and do, though she didn't miss the paperwork.
So all things considered, when January came around Louisa was much happier. She was no longer feeling so tired and dreary all the time – little bit sick in the mornings, but overall she felt much better. And walking into the playground on the first day of the new term put an automatic smile on her face. What was really bothering her – yet again - was Martin, and how to tell him. She'd have to let people know sooner or later, and good gossip is good gossip no matter where you are. It'd be a conversation best done face to face really, but given the circumstances a phone call would have to do. And soon. Who knew how many contacts Martin had in London – he had to hear it from her.
xxx
Joan was bored. After the first week she'd begun making a rapid recovery, for which Martin was very relieved. He still visited her every day and brought her up to date with the news of Portwenn. He felt uncomfortable at first, what she was asking him was what he'd usually call pointless trivia, bordering on gossip. He was surprised to realise that he knew any, but it was surprising what you picked up from the bored female patients in the waiting room. Personally, he didn't have any interest in the mundane everyday life of the villagers. But Joan seemed interested that Mrs Porter's son had got his first tooth, so he dutifully reported back the new information and let her gush over it. It was a wonder that she'd never had children of her own, but for once he realised that it might not be tactful to ask.
Almost immediately after she was herself again, she began worrying about the farm. That dratted farm, he often thought, when it was affecting her recovery. He was glad she was still in hospital, or else she'd be pottering round the chicken coop already. Why couldn't she be like any other 64 year old woman? So, after a week of hints which had failed to register with her thick skinned nephew, she decided to be blunt. A resigned expression appeared on his face.
'Oh, God.'
xxx
'Oh, God!'
Louisa knew from the minute she headed out for playground duty that the pale lilac skirt had been a mistake. The tights underneath weren't doing their job and she was slowly freezing, having given her coat to one of the shivering year two girls. She wrapped her cardigan tight around her, noted happily again the small swelling that only she knew was there, and headed off to deal with a bunch of unruly year six boys.
Now her eyes were filled with panic. It'd been a bit of a boring, typical lesson today – the kids wrote their stories while she marked their maths. She'd not been fond of maths as a child and she didn't like it much now. No fun to teach and even less to mark, as the answers were meant to be all the same. She gladly got up at the end of the lesson and told the children to get into their art project groups. But when she turned to write on the board, the noisy room fell quiet. She turned back, and all the children were staring at her. One of the girls looked scared and raised her hand.
'You're bleeding, Miss.'
'You should go to the medical room.'
At Louisa's alarmed exclamation, the classroom assistant looked at her with friendly disapproval, and suggested she take herself to the toilets. Sitting in the cubicle, Louisa let the tears fall. She didn't care that she'd cursed in front of the six year olds. She didn't care that her skirt was ruined, or that she'd been publicly humiliated. All she cared about was whether she was losing her baby.
'Miss Glasson?'
Sheila had come after her. She liked her classroom assistant, she wasn't snobby like so many of the other staff, and didn't talk down to Louisa with her cut glass accent.'
'Come on, out of there, it doesn't matter. They're only six, they don't understand, and it happens to everybody.'
Louisa recognised the same argument her teacher had used when, aged six, she'd wet herself in class – it was the same one she used now when her pupils had accidents. She felt just as small as she had back then. Come on, you're a grown woman, you can deal with this. She emerged from the cubicle; saw her tear streaked face in the mirror.
'With respect Louisa, pull yourself together. It's not that bad.'
'Yes it is!' Louisa saw Sheila recoil in surprise at her outburst. She had a few seconds to decide, and reckoned she could trust the older woman. 'I'm pregnant.' Sheila tried to disguise her shock, and failed.
'I'll tell them you're ill.'
xxx
'It's not my fault! How was I supposed to know? I'm not a farmer! Stop laughing!'
'Come on, Marty – they're chickens, they're small. How hard is it to just grab it?'
'They move! They're vicious!' Martin protested, nursing his bandaged hand.
'Well you are after their eggs, of course they'll try and protect them. Oh, for heaven's sake, I'll be out soon if the tests go well. Just do the vegetables, be careful not to touch the radishes, they won't be ripe yet, their leaves are different to the carrots,'
'Aunty Joan, I'm sure that I'm perfectly capable of picking a few carrots!' Martin snapped, not mentioning the box of radishes he'd obliviously picked that morning.
The next evening he sat with his aunt as she had her CT scan. As he examined the scans afterwards he noted no abnormalities, which meant that she could probably go home in the next few days. As they travelled through the radiography department afterwards, his phone began to ring loudly. Mortified, he began to fumble through his pockets, as a pompous twit started informing him of the phone policies.
'I know the policies!' he snapped as he finally located the phone, opened it and quickly snapped it shut without checking to see who it was. He couldn't understand how he'd forgotten to turn it off; it was something he always did before entering the hospital. He stalked off, ignoring the glares from many of the hospital staff.
xxx
As Joan lay for her CT scan, Louisa was staring at a dark screen, tears of relief and joy in her eyes. It was all okay. She relaxed back on the bed, only just realising that she was tensed all over, and drank in the tiny blob on the screen. Apparently the bleeding was from the cervix, not the placenta. She wasn't exactly sure why that made a difference, but she didn't care because the doctor had said everything was fine.
Walking out of the surgery with a spring in her step, she made a decision. She had to tell him, she was going to do it now, while she was still full of euphoric courage. She dug out her mobile and pressed the number which was still on her speed dial. She was trembling as the ringtone sounded for what felt like hours. What's taking so long? He always has his phone on him. Suddenly her heart leapt as the call was answered. Then it plummeted as it was immediately cut off. Confused and sad, she dejectedly walked back home. He didn't even want to speak to her. She'd thought they'd parted amiably – very civilly, still friends. She'd obviously thought wrong.
