Kate drove out to Havenhurst Farm the next morning, bumping along the dirt road leading up to it in her mother's aging car. It creaked and groaned and she wondered if it would even get her there. She didn't like the idea that her mother drove a car that could break down at any moment and resolved to try and talk her into getting something more reliable. It was time.

As she pulled into the yard beside the big sprawling farmhouse a light rain was falling creating a misty curtain that obscured the view. On a fine day you could see a vast expanse of ocean and the beautiful Cornish coastline from up there.

She got out and was immediately greeted by Aunty Joan's deliriously happy little dog Buddy. His tail wagged nineteen to the dozen as he ran in circles around her. "Oh Buddy you crazy boy. Come here." He came to her and she stroked his ears. Such a happy dog.

They walked towards the kitchen door which suddenly opened and Aunty Joan stood there still as plump as ever, her face beaming and her arms outstretched. "Kate…Oh my dear girl…look at you." Kate was enfolded in Joan's ample arms and rocked backwards and forwards.

"Aunty Joan I've missed you."

"And I you… come in out of the rain. You'll get soaked."

They went into the warm kitchen and Kate smelled the delicious aroma of something baking. At Havenhurst there was always something baking.

"Tea?" Aunt Joan filled the kettle.

"I'd love a cup, thank you." Kate went to the cupboard and got the cups out. The kitchen was so familiar to her. Nothing ever changed in it. It was the same warm and comfortable oasis it had always been.

They sat at the old, worn table over tea and freshly baked muffins which Aunty Joan insisted she eat, even though she'd had breakfast only a couple of hours before.

"You have that look of London about you Kate. Tired and pale. You need some good country cooking and fresh air to get rid of that."

Kate laughed. "I don't think a muffin qualifies as country cooking Aunty Joan."

"Well I do," she said taking another off the plate. "Now tell me all about this fancy hospital of yours."

They chatted for quite some time about her work and her new flat in Notting Hill and how she loved the parks and the many museums close by.

"By the way, one of the surgeons I work with happens to be your nephew Martin Ellingham."

Aunty Joan's face lit up. "Marty…oh that's wonderful. So you've seen him? How is he?"

"He looks well. On a personal level I can't tell you much more than that, though. I have worked with him quite often over the last few months. He's an exceptional surgeon."

"I always knew he would be." Aunty Joan's face took on a sad expression and she looked out the window at the rain beating down. "Better than his own father I hear." She laughed but it was without humour. "My brother couldn't stand it that Marty's academic record at Imperial College outstripped everything in the last fifty years including his own - belittled the boy at every opportunity." Her mouth was grim.

Kate looked puzzled. "Why would he do that? Surely he must be proud of Martin's achievements?"

"Nothing Martin did, or can still do for that matter, could make him proud. Both his parents are the most selfish and self-centred people I know." Aunty Joan sipped her tea. "They never cared for him. Never gave him the time of day. Packed him off to boarding school when he was six years old." She shook her head sadly. "I begged my brother to let him come to school here – he could have stayed with us at the farm. But Christopher wouldn't have any son of his going to a village school and growing up like a yokel as he put it. My brother, you see is the ultimate snob."

Kate was appalled, "So Martin was sent away to boarding school aged six? That's so sad."

Aunty Joan poured more tea into their cups. "Yes...and what's even sadder was that the poor boy was unmercifully bullied. His parents had never allowed him to have friends. He wasn't allowed to mix with children of his own age at all and as a result he was introverted and shy." Joan's face looked sad. "When he was thrown into a boarding school with sixty other boys he just didn't know how to interact with them. So he became a target."

She sighed. "When I saw him again that first summer holiday it was as if he was dead inside - wouldn't talk, never smiled and he would hover around Uncle Phil like a little puppy. Phil just let him be. Paid him no mind - let him help around the farm without making a fuss and it made him feel safe again."

Joan looked at Kate. "Marty was such a sensitive and affectionate boy but his parents and that boarding school made a good job of killing that side of him. I think that deep down he's still sensitive and affectionate. But he's learnt to hide it very well."

Kate felt so sad for the little boy. She thought of Martin as he was now and suddenly his abrasive and closed off manner made a lot of sense to her. No wonder he distanced himself from people. How could parents do that to their own child? If she ever had children she knew that nothing would persuade her to be separated from them when they were growing up.

"Well he certainly doesn't show a sensitive side at work," said Kate, "Martin has something of a reputation for his abrupt and sometimes frightening manner."

Aunty Joan's eyes widened. "Frightening?"

"Yes…he can be quite intimidating. He's scathing to anyone who fails to meet his standards. And his standards are very high." Kate fiddled with her teaspoon. "The nursing staff and junior registrars are terrified of him. But he is a first rate doctor and they are lucky to have him as their tutor.

Aunty Joan considered what Kate had just said. She had never seen Martin as anything but polite and considerate towards her. Maybe not so much with the people in the village on the odd occasion that he been to visit when he was at medical school.

He's an exceptional surgeon," said Kate, "and you should be very proud of him."

"Oh I am – and I would be, even if he was a humble country doctor."

Kate smiled. She couldn't see Martin being humble, even as a country doctor. Humble was not a word one would associate with him at all.

Aunty Joan seemed puzzled. "What you said about him having a frightening manner - that's a side of Marty that I've never seen."

"I have and it is something to behold. He can be very harsh if something displeases him." Kate regaled her with how she had first met Martin and Joan laughed. "Oh my. He must have been completely thrown by you Kate."

"Mmm...I don't think so. If anything, I was a bit thrown by him. He is a very imposing and forbidding man. His eyes looked like they could have bored right through me. And, to make things worse, the next time I saw him he was only wearing a towel around his waist."

"What?" Kate told Aunty Joan the story and she laughed so hard that the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Oh that's funny. Knowing how shy Marty is, I'm surprised he didn't faint with embarrassment."

"No he didn't. Instead he stood there looking as dignified as he could while sporting just a towel around his waist and he growled at me to get out. I suppose it didn't help matters that I saw the funny side of it either. If looks could kill I would have been carried out there on a stretcher."

Aunty Joan took Kate's hand. "I miss him so much. I know he is very busy. Perhaps when you see him again you can send him my love and tell him my phone number hasn't changed." She said pointedly.

Kate spent another hour with Aunty Joan before she had to leave. On her drive home she thought about Martin and the sad young life he must have led and how it had shaped the man he had become – driven, withdrawn, defensive, shy and, yes…vulnerable. No-one could come out of a childhood like that unscathed. Her heart felt heavy when she thought about it. Was there any way to get behind the walls he'd built around himself? And what would she find if she did? The more she thought about it the more she wanted know.