I'd fainted in front of my class once before and I was determined not to do it again, at least not today.

Not ten minutes into teaching my afternoon maths class, my body was wracked with a series of hard coughs that left me holding one hand over my mouth while the other grabbed the edge my desk for support. I was exhausted and my throat ached from a day filled with similar fits. It felt as if I could cough up an entire lung, yet my throat remained dry and rough.

In the past few days, my cold had taken a decided turn for the worse. With Martin out of town, I hadn't wanted to make the trek to Wadebridge just to have Samuels tell me I had a nasty viral infection that would, as Martin liked to remind his patients, get better on its own. So, I'd grabbed some over-the-counter remedies from Mrs. Tishell and made the best of it. Nonetheless, between teaching full time during the day and taking care of Tommy at night, there was little time to rest and, now, my body was starting to feel the cumulative effects of my illness.

"Miss Glasson, are you all right?" Eddie Tydings, resplendent in a bright blue cast, looked up at me with worried powder-blue eyes. "Should I fetch you some water?"

I needed more than a glass of water. In my current state, I couldn't continue teaching – at least not today. "Get Miss Adams," I managed to croak. "Next room." Speaking incited another round of coughs that left me nearly breathless.

My class was eerily calm, with no one taking advantage of the fact their teacher was in no shape to provide any discipline. I was touched by their obvious concern and longed to be able to say or do something reassuring. Instead, I focused on taking shallow breaths.

"Should you sit down, Miss?" Theodore James asked, bringing the desk chair closer to where I was standing. Dark-haired and thoughtful, he was already a natural leader.

"Thank you," I said, nearly falling into it. I winced at the thought that my entire class was watching me suffer and wanted nothing more than to make my way back to my office where I could lie down for a few minutes out of sight of my students. The only problem was that I lacked the energy to do anything of the sort.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dorothy Adams stride into the room and quickly survey the situation. She stepped over to me and whispered softly. "You okay, Louisa?"

"Not really," I replied honestly.

She turned toward the class and spoke in a controlled but urgent voice. "All right, children, we're going to have recess early today. Theodore, I want you to lead the class outside and join Mr. Collins' class on the playground. Come on, let's go. Emma, you get behind Theodore. Everyone in line. There you go. Go directly outside. Stay in your lines until you get there. I'll be out shortly."

"Is Miss Glasson all right?" someone called out.

"She'll be fine," Dorothy responded firmly. "You can help her by doing as I say and going outside quickly."

Several of the children stopped by the desk to murmur well wishes on their way out of the room and I did my best to smile at them in return.

As soon as the last child had cleared the classroom, Dorothy hunched over me. "Louisa, what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I was so tired I could bearly stand up and then I couldn't stop coughing . . ."

"Let's get you to your office and I'll call Doc Martin."

I rubbed my hands on my temples. "No, don't do that." Martin had been back only a day from his week-long trip to London and was no doubt busy catching up in the surgery. Not to mention that he'd be all over me for not taking care of myself, not getting enough rest, and all the other complaints he'd made over the past few weeks about my trying to do too much.

"It's a bad cold," I added. "I just need to take some cough syrup and rest."

I pulled myself into a standing position, which sent me into another round of coughing.

"If that's a cold, it's the nastiest one I've ever seen." Dorothy took me by the arm. "Come on, let's get you to your office."

Once there I slumped in my chair and watched as, despite my protestations, Dorothy insisted on calling Martin. There were muffled voices on the other end that I couldn't make out and then Dorothy spoke into the phone. "Louisa is the one who's ill."

Her statement was followed by some more shuffling on the line and then, from the way Dorothy's posture stiffened, I sensed that Martin had taken the phone from his receptionist.

"She's weak and has a terrible cough," Dorothy reported, followed by a pause. "In her office." There was another pause as Dorothy was obviously taking note of Martin's instructions. "Yes, Doctor."

She hung up the phone and turned to me. "He said to have you sit upright and that he'll be here straight away. You're to take no medication until he gets here."

While I waited, I did as Martin had instructed and also sipped some water, which was pleasantly soothing. I encouraged Dorothy to go outside with the children but she insisted on staying with me until Martin arrived.

Dorothy was right – my cough was bad and I probably did need medical attention. Still, getting help from Martin likely meant a stern lecture as well and, as exhausted as I felt, I really wasn't up for that.

Less than ten minutes later, Martin strode through my office door, wearing an expression somewhere between annoyance and concern. His eyes were already examining me, and I was torn between trying to make myself look stronger than I felt or letting things be so that he didn't consider himself summoned for nothing. In the end, there was no way I could hope to imitate my normal, healthy self. I could however, offer some apology for once again pulling him away from his surgery and all the inconveniences that created.

"Martin," I said, "I'm sorry Dorothy called you." I coughed. "I was just—"

"Of course she called me." He set his bag on the desk and came to stand over me, eyes bright and with a scowl on his features. "Any idiot can see that you're ill."

Great. He was in one of those moods. I tilted my head back and sighed.

Martin turned to Dorothy. "That's all," he said dismissively.

"Huh?"

"You can go."

"Oh," she replied, then turned back to me. "I hope you feel better, Louisa. I'll make sure the children—"

"Now," Martin said, eyes already ushering her out the door.

"She means well," I said when she'd gone. "You didn't need to be rude."

"I wasn't." He picked up my wrist and checked the rate against his watch. "What happened to you?" he asked, his tone softening just a bit.

"I was teaching maths and suddenly felt weak. And I've been having coughing fits – I can't seem to stop."

"You've been feeling tired for some time now," he said, but this time there was no accusation in his voice. He touched the back of his hand to my forehead and then my cheeks, frowning slightly.

"It's a bad cold," I said. "I can't seem to shake it."

Martin shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a doctor," he replied irritably. "I'll take you home; I can examine you there and then you can get straight to bed where you belong. Can you walk to my car?"

"Martin, we have a musical assembly this afternoon."

"Which you obviously won't be attending."

"Martin!" The event had been planned for weeks and most of the parents would be there. It was also an opportunity for Roger Fenn to show off all of the work he'd done at my behest. How would it look if the head teacher were absent?

"Louisa, until I examine you, I can't diagnose what's wrong," Martin said, allowing his frustration to show. "It's quite possible that what you have is communicable, so I don't think it wise to remain here around the children, do you?"

It really wasn't a question, and the last thing I wanted to do was infect the children, as he surely knew. Blast him sometimes.

"All right." It's not as if I had much choice in the matter. I couldn't very well stay at school – let alone host the assembly – if I couldn't speak without coughing or stand without collapsing.

Martin helped me to my feet and I tried not to lean too heavily on him. He must have noticed because he shifted so as to take more of my weight and wrapped his arm around my waist. "It's all right, Louisa. Take it slowly."

There was, I had to admit, a comfort in having his strong arms holding me, even it was for all the wrong reasons. Rather than fight it, I relaxed into his grip.

"The children aren't in the hallway, are they?" I asked. "They can't see me like this."

Martin's expression made clear he didn't give a damn what the children saw but he nonetheless peered into the corridor outside the office. "I don't see anyone."

Less than a minute later, we stepped into the rare Portwenn sunshine, only a few feet from his Lexus, which was parked directly outside the main door.

Billy, one of my first years ran up to me. "Miss Glasson," he asked, eyes wide. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Billy. I'm just tired. I'm going home to get some rest."

Martin opened the passenger door of his car and helped me inside.

"I hope you feel better," the boy said. "The doc'll take good care of you, won't he?"

I forced a smile. "Yes, Billy, I'm sure he will."