Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures.
Author's note: This is a bit of a random chapter. Please accept a little suspension of disbelief at the immaculate state of Louisa's handbag in the television series. Yet again my mind kind of wandered in a random direction and I just kind of went with it – also it gave me a medium to explore Louisa's younger days.
Please also excuse my massive delays between chapters. I'll be updating much more frequently from now on now that I know where the story is going!
Chapter Nine
'Louisa.'
Louisa grinned as she entered the day room and walked over to where Martin was sitting by the window, a spring in her step. As she'd parked her car she'd looked up to see a shadow of a face in that very window. And with closer observation, she could see that the old book resting on his lap was in fact upside down. He'd clearly been watching eagerly for her return as a child would. However, since he was so keen to feign emotional detachment, she'd humour him.
'Hello, Martin. Good afternoon?'
'Fine.'
'Been up to much?'
'Just reading. How was your – er – day?'
'Oh, it was pleasant. Most interesting.'
She took her time removing her coat and setting down her bag as she settled in the armchair next to him. Seeing that she wasn't going to volunteer any information, Martin sighed. She could be so exasperating at times – but he knew that when he gave in and broke the facade, she'd reward him with that broad smile and twinkle in her eyes that he found so endearing.
'Well, what happened? What's interesting?'
Louisa laughed as he inevitably caved in, and began telling him everything she could remember about their soon-to-be new grandchild in delight.
'Well, it's definitely not twins for a start, which she was relieved about given the family history even though they cleared it at her first scan.'
'Anything else? No apparent abnormalities?'
'No, it's perfect. And it's a girl!'
For the next twenty minutes she relived the experience, telling him all about it. He soon got around to asking questions of his own. She shouldn't have been surprised really. The poor midwife got the brunt of Peter's questioning and could barely keep up with him as he flitted from question to observation to references of old studies. Martin had been exactly the same during her baby scans – badgering people left right and centre about the most trivial differences. One day they got a particularly enthusiastic health professional and the appointment ended up taking twice as long as it should have done as they chattered away about her as if she weren't in the room. She felt like getting up, relieving her bladder and getting a cup of tea. She was sure they'd still be there when she returned.
Unfortunately she was no enthusiastic health professional. While the midwife could just about stand up against the flow of Peter's vast medical knowledge, Louisa was soon lost and just happily looked at the screen, unable to discern which questions were actually relevant to Joan at all. So Martin was clearly dissatisfied with her answer of 'She's fine, the baby's healthy, it's a good size, everything's fine.' He was soon on the phone to Peter and descended into an animated stream of medical waffle.
Happy herself with just the knowledge that everything was okay and the little photo she'd been given, Louisa now dug around in her bag to retrieve it. She was sure that Martin would soon be poring over it, checking every last measurement and cross referencing it with goodness knows what.
Or he would be, if she could find it. She quickly checked her pockets. Nope. She didn't have it when she left the hospital, so it must be somewhere in her bag. Eventually finding it, she dragged it out only to find that the back had some kind of soggy, sticky mess all over it. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, she soon found the source of the problem – a tissue covered in diluted chocolate.
During a recent day out with James and family they'd come across a tiny new sweet shop in Newquay, who were giving out free chocolate samplers. Little Jamie had decided that the dark chilli chocolate he had been advised against taking was indeed not to his taste. Louisa had expertly caught the ejected dribbly chocolate in a tissue as it left Jamie's mouth. Holding a handful of purchases herself she could not exit the shop to find the bin and so had put it in her bag for a few minutes and promptly forgotten that it was there.
Placing her bag on the dashboard of her car as she drove home had caused the warm afternoon sun to melt said chocolate onto the various items at the bottom of her bag.
It was obviously time for another clear out.
xxx
Louisa's bag had had many clear outs, many adventures, many different contents and many replacements during her adult life, but she invariably returned to it.
July 1980
Terry Glasson headed back to his bedroom at two in the morning. It had been one hell of a day. He knew that May had been feeling trapped for a while – for about nine years, actually – since the day she'd suddenly decided not to have the abortion. He knew that she'd been torn over the decision, and he knew that if she'd had her way she'd never have left her daughter behind. But her old life, the life she still craved, was worlds apart from the stability that a child needed. Even so, couldn't she have stuck it out for just a few more years, until Louisa was old enough to understand that it wasn't her fault? He knew he wasn't exactly a model father, but he cursed May for the grief that she had inflicted on her child.
As he had come home to discover the half empty house, he knew with a heavy feeling that she was gone. The only thought on his mind had been how on earth he was supposed to tell his eight year old daughter. There had been tears, pleading, blaming, and begging him to pick up the phone and call May, call her back with endless promises that she'd do better, behave better, be a better person. Then she'd been put to bed. This was the second nightmare of the evening, and he'd rocked her as she sobbed, stroking her hair until she exhausted herself and fell asleep in his arms until he lowered her back onto the pillow.
Returning to his room, he finally had the opportunity to change and get into bed. He couldn't settle. Eventually his pillows became hot and uncomfortable, and he sat up to turn them over. Lying underneath them was a brown bag with a weave pattern – it looked much too modern for May's taste. Curiously, he opened it. Inside was a folded piece of paper.
Terry,
I'm going to keep this short, because I know nothing I say will change how angry you must be with me right now. I had to leave. I couldn't stay in this tiny little village forever when the Lord provided us with such a beautiful wide world. I know you don't understand, but it was a calling. All I ask is that you take care of Louisa and make her understand that none of this was her fault. It was mine. I was never supposed to be blessed with such a wonderful, sensible daughter (how on earth did we manage that?) I know you think I'm selfish now, but I know that if I stay there any longer I'll begin to take it out on her. Let her just remember that her mum loved her.
I struggled hard thinking of what I should leave here. Remember how little Louisa would always play dress up with my handbag? Every girl needs a bag of her own. Give this to Lou when she turns sixteen. She'll be a beauty! Again, I'm so sorry that I won't be there.
May
November 1982
Terry watched his daughter pack up her handbag with painstaking care. After about a minute of deliberation over two years ago, he had screwed up the naive letter and decided that May's wishes came far below Louisa's peace of mind. For attached to the zip on the bag was a small brown leather tag, into which a photo of Louisa with May had been inserted. Further investigation revealed her writing yet again on the back.
Louisa,
Love forever
Mum x
He himself found the message little comfort, but for his devastated young daughter it had provided some degree of reassurance – coming from the horse's mouth as it were. She guarded the bag with her life, and kept only her most precious possessions (charm bracelet, her pen and notebook, sweets, pocket money) in it. Every evening she unpacked it and placed it carefully in her bedroom cupboard.
July 1989
Louisa hugged her friend Alison as she prepared to leave. God, she admired Alison. Not for the whole getting pregnant at seventeen thing – that was daft and after twelve years of friendship she'd have thought Alison should have known better. But still, her friend had stood up to her parents, her friends, her boyfriend, the whole bloody village. Even though she was about to be shipped off to some place where she knew no-one, where she'd probably still be scorned by everyone, she'd stuck with her son. She showed him no resentment for the fact that her entire life had been changed. She cared for him and loved him and done everything in her power to make the best of the circumstances. Louisa hadn't joined in with the disapproval of the village because if she was brutally honest, she envied baby Tom.
It had been several years now since she had accepted what her father had told her – that her mother leaving wasn't her fault. But still there was a gap in her life, the vital gap that was missing from her confused adolescent life. She'd had to turn to Joan Norton for some kind of female guidance, since she was the only person she could think of who wouldn't patronise her or cast judgement over the family situation. Why go to the bother of having a child if you weren't planning to stick around until they were old enough to understand, at least? Her relationship with her father had slowly deteriorated as he'd put his stupid, dangerous plans above her needs yet again.
Saying goodbye to a girl who was going to face some serious obstacles and yet still looked at her baby as if he were the most precious thing to walk the earth – Louisa understood even less. As she arrived home on the anniversary of her mother's departure, Louisa took the scissors from the kitchen drawer and hacked the small brown leather tag from the zip of her bag. She watched as it landed in the bin, that happy, lying photo with the lying message.
Then she walked calmly to her bedroom, unpacked her make-up, mirror, keys and spare hair ties from the bag and placed it on her shelf, in her cupboard.
September 1990
Louisa bit her lip, excited yet nervous as the train pulled away from Portwenn Station. She was leaving. For the first time, she was leaving her father and all she had ever known behind. She fiddled anxiously with the strap on the brown leather bag before unzipping it and checking once again that she had everything of vital importance against the list there. She smiled at Danny, sitting next to her with his hand resting gently on her knee. No, she wasn't leaving behind everything. He'd come into her life just after her mum left. She was grateful for that – that she had something, someone from Portwenn for whom her memories were completely separate from those with her mother.
Hopefully in London they'd make some more memories. They were heading for different university courses and so probably wouldn't see each other so much, but surely a thing like that couldn't break them up? Her first love. She wasn't really sure yet what constituted love but whatever it was, it was nice. He nudged her and she nudged him back, smiling playfully. Yep, definitely nice.
'Got any mints in that famous brown bag of yours?' he asked. When he'd first visited her aged ten, she'd burst into tears when he tried to play with it and hadn't let her have it back. He hadn't let her forget it since. She'd not used it so much since her opinion of her mother had tarnished, but still she felt attached to it, like she was attached to the memories of how life was before May had left. The part of her that was her mother was missing, and this was the closest thing she had to fill the gap.
December 1990
It was Christmas morning. Louisa headed down the corridor of the student lodgings into Danny's room, which was really also her room and vice versa.
'Happy Christmas!'
He did a cheerful little dance across the room to kiss her and presented her with a package as she brought out a similarly brightly wrapped one from behind her back.
'Hey!' He immediately tore off the jumper he was wearing and replaced it with the new one she'd bought him. 'Mm, lovely and warm. Go on then, open yours!'
She tore off the top end of the paper. A long black leather strap fell out. The rest of the paper fell off to reveal a small bag handbag on the end of the strap. A small label on it revealed an expensive designer.
'Danny... wow.'
'Now, I know you've already got one but this is so much more practical. Long strap, so you can have it over your shoulder and you won't need to carry it, it's got three separate compartments, black goes with everything and it's got a little tag. You know, your old one broke.'
'Wow...' she couldn't think of anything else to say. 'It's lovely.' The small tag contained a photo of the two of them the week previously, in a pub somewhere. She had to admit that it was a nice photo, and it'd certainly be much more practical. Maybe it was time to let go.
January 1991
She couldn't. She couldn't take it. She hadn't used the old bag in Danny's company since Christmas, but this was her first day on her new teaching placement. She'd never done any actual teaching practise before and she was nervous. She couldn't forget anything. In the old one, everything had its place. Now she found herself making a list and checking things off as she placed them in.
She found herself walking into the classroom with the familiar brown bag on her arm. She was directed to the staffroom where the teachers were all putting their belongings in a communal cupboard. She left her things and went off to take the lesson she'd been timetabled for. She thanked the heavens that she was taking reception. They all became fairly sweet and compliant when story time came around, and she was careful to choose a fable with an obvious moral so they could discuss it afterwards. But her mind kept travelling back to the cupboard, the unlocked communal cupboard.
When she stepped out at the end of the fairly successful day with her bag untouched under her arm, she told herself off for being so wet. It was time to let go of her childish fantasies and get a grip.
The next day she came in with the new black leather slung across her chest. She caught up with Holly Williams, who seemed friendly and was from her course.
'Wow, love the bag. Is it? Yes, it is! Must have cost a fortune, so much nicer than your old one.'
Practical, admired, gift from Danny, looks nice and it didn't make her paranoid. As she set it down in the corner of her room that evening, she considered it a success.
November 1994
'Come on, Lou. It's nice. I get it. Great first placement, I mean it's a great school. Definitely a winner on the CV front. But you could earn a much better salary in London.'
'It's not all about salary, Danny. I love it here. So much... don't you remember it? So much character. London's just all... dreary.'
'It's not dreary, it's exciting! Things happen, you meet people, there are opportunities!'
'It's grey. Monochrome. Look out this window. How many different colours can you see? Too many to count, and they're forever changing, the sea, the sky, the hills. London's just the same old grey buildings on the same old grey paving slabs on the same old grey tarmac.'
'I get it. You're sentimental. I can see that, it's where you grew up. But don't you even love me enough to give it a go?'
'I gave it a go for four years, Danny!' But the wheels were working in her head. No. She didn't love him enough. Not in that way. That was it. He was great to be with. She couldn't imagine life without him and he was one of her oldest, greatest friends. But no. Not like that.
December 1994
That Christmas was Louisa's first alone. Her father had left the village before she had and so was no longer around. She hadn't heard from him in a while. Danny had got some job or other and apparently was doing well. She hadn't heard from him since that conversation a month ago, which had resulted in them breaking up. She'd cried at the loss of her friend. Not her boyfriend, not her lover, because to be honest Danny was too possessive and yet indecisive to build a stable relationship on. But her friend, the Danny Steel she'd met aged eight and had thought as a child she'd marry, she missed desperately.
On Christmas morning she opened an old surprise. She'd wrapped her old bag in paper during her time in university, packed it away in a box and not seen it for years. But she hadn't been able to throw the box away. Now she carefully pulled the package out of the box and uncovered her old prized possession.
She was glad that she'd distanced herself from it. She didn't worry so much. She didn't keep it clamped to her side. She could leave it on any old surface or in a corner without worrying about its wellbeing. No, it wasn't as practical or stylish as the black one, but it was soft, supple, shiny and familiar. Returning to her old bag was like returning to Portwenn after the dull, life that was London. Useful, but dull.
xxx
Over the course of the years the bag's contents changed. As a young teacher and headmistress, it contained pens, her phone, spare paper, memos, keys, and her standard organised detritus. She had standard clutch bags for special occasions, but day to day a familiar sight in the village was Louisa Glasson walking along with her bag swinging erratically from one hand, as much a part of her as her sunny smile or bouncing ponytail.
For a few years it was replaced by a large grey holdall which could be hung from the handles of the double buggy, containing everything from bottles, nappies, cream, Calpol, sweets, dummies to spare pants.
As the children grew, the old brown bag was dusted off and made its appearance around town again. Now filled also with tissues, small toys and various rubbish, she began to give it 'spring cleans' every few weeks.
Aged about four and going through a grown up stage, the handbag became an addition to Joan's princess get up, completed by fairy wings and pretend Barbie heels. Louisa began finding it in all manner of bizarre places including the cupboard containing the saucepans, behind the television and once in the downstairs toilet, which thankfully had been flushed beforehand.
It aged with her, battered and faded yet well made, the strap held firm and the zip working. The lining had been slightly torn in places but at this stage in her life it had served her well, and Louisa saw no point in using a new one.
xxx
As she unpacked the various clutter and wiped chocolate off the things she could salvage, she remembered doing much the same thing sixty seven years ago. She could still remember the image of her mother vaguely, thanks to that small tag which she'd looked at endlessly until her upset rage when she was seventeen. She rarely thought about the woman who'd given her life and who must have been dead for quite some time now. But now, being a mother and grandmother herself she almost pitied May Glasson in that she hadn't been able to experience the true joy of it.
Sighing, she repacked her important things into the bag and went out to find Martin, presenting him with the image of the baby Cronk. As she watched him, absorbed in his task, she thought about his mother. And suddenly felt lucky. All her life she'd been able to tell herself that it wasn't her fault – her parents had been adamant of this and showed that she had at least been loved as a child. Martin had grown without that cold comfort – the very opposite, in fact. She often wished she could have known her mother, whilst she had also often wished that Martin had never had the misfortune to meet his.
xxx
Joan as an adult had been told by Louisa both the story of the handbag, the story of her grandfather's demise and had got from her father a vague outline or his harrowing childhood. As she watched her mother tuck the scanned image into the infamous handbag before hugging her like she'd never let go, she silently thanked whatever force of nature that had somehow given her the best parents she could have hoped for. Swallowing a lump in her throat and looking down at the swelling that was her 20 week old baby girl, she only hoped that she could make her daughter feel as loved as Louisa was making her feel right now.
