A Further Explanation

Louisa hugs Martin and says: "On that happy note, will you make me scrambled eggs for our jolly holiday dinner?"

"Too many eggs are not good for you Louisa."

Sighing she says: "It was better when no one cared about me, and I could eat anything I wanted."

"Yes, that's what happens when someone wants to take care of you."

Hearing Martin even imply he wants to take care of her is a bit too much for Louisa, and she bursts into tears.

Martin looks panicked and says: "It's okay, Louisa, I'll make you scrambled eggs. Don't cry. You can eat anything you want. Don't cry."

Martin rushes to the bedroom and returns with tissues. Louisa dabs at her eyes and starts to gulp, trying to stop herself from crying. She chokes out to Martin that Susan wasn't ill at the restaurant. It was she who was crying and Susan invented the story to cover their absence. Martin wants to know why she was crying then and why she is crying now. Louisa takes a deep breath and tells Martin that she was a bit overwhelmed seeing him at ease with Susan and Chris. It was the way she imagined he would be with her following their "big talk." Since coming to London, he had said and done so many wonderful things, but she is not sure if they will ever have an easy relationship.

"Louisa, I've known Chris and Susan for many years, and I've been through so much with them. When I showed up at medical school, I was the wunderkind who had taken firsts in everything and won prizes , but I was also an arrogant prick. Chris made it his business to knock me down a few pegs. No one had ever done that to me, because no one could be bothered. Susan was reading psychology at Cambridge, so she found my behavior intriguing. It was Susan who first told me I was probably on the Asperger's spectrum, and we have argued about it since then.

"Our first term, Chris had a rough time with classes, so I would help him as I could. When I became involved with Edith – Edith Montgomery – Chris was furious. By then he had pulled himself together and was doing well. He and Edith had gone toe-to-toe on any manner of things, and he hated her. Chris said I was foolish and that she would end up hurting me and distracting me from my work. At the end of med school, I was going to St. Thomas's and thought Edith and I were staying in London and would be married. We had never talked about it – I just made this leap that she and I slept together, so we would marry.

"One day I had a phone message from Edith telling me to meet her at the medical library. When I arrived, I tried to kiss her and she pushed me away and told me it was over. She was going to Montreal for a fellowship at McGill University in gynaecology. I asked when she was offered the fellowship. She applied for it about six months earlier and was accepted three months after that. For that last half year, she did not have the decency to tell me she was leaving. I walked away from her and hurried to the flat Chris and Susan had just let together.

"Chris was at hospital but Susan was there trying to clean up the place. She took one look at me and knew something horrible had happened. She made tea and just listened to me. I talked not just about Edith but about all the other slights I had from bedwetting and being banned from Aunt Joan's farm to the way my parents treated me and how I was bullied at school. I never felt good enough no matter how hard I worked or how high my grades. Susan was right today: I spent two days and nights at their flat moaning and groaning about my life. Eventually, she told me to go home and shape up. It worked and I was able to get over Edith and get on with my training.

"When she and Chris were married, Susan made me be a groomsman and then she made me be Jill's godfather. No matter how busy I was, Susan had me at every birthday party for the children. I always receive birthday cards from them and, when we were in London, Susan would take me to lunch and then make me go shopping with her for neckties. For someone who never had any rituals or celebrations in his life . . . well, this meant quite a bit to me.

"Whether they had Christmas with her parents in Cambridge or Chris's family in London, I was invited. One year Chris's brother was bringing home his fiancée for the first time. I felt awkward intruding on this family time and did not join them but went to hospital. About noon, Susan came roaring into my office calling 'Ellingham, Ellingham, you are going to have Christmas if it kills me.' I told her I felt like an intruder in their lives. While I appreciated her, Chris and their families, I thought it was time that they lived their lives and I lived my life. I'll never forget what she said: 'Ellingham you don't have a life without us. Now get on your coat and come have Christmas.'

"When I developed haemophobia, Robert Southwood tried in every way to help me, but I was so humiliated even he could not reason with me. One day I told him I already had a bad father and did not need another one. He gave up after that.

"Of course, I was too embarrassed to call Chris who was in Plymouth by then, and certainly not Susan. Chris soon learned about it, but I would not respond to his calls or emails. I couldn't do surgery but would go to my office hoping that some miracle would occur and my problem would be cured. Although everyone thought it was a stress-related phobia, there was no diagnosis at the time. Haemophobia was of course suspected, but it seemed there had to be a more complex reason for my violent reaction to blood.

"A few weeks after it happened, I returned from a meeting with the chief of surgery and found Susan waiting in my office. By then, I was angry with everyone and everything and told her to get out of my office and my life while she was at it. She refused. For the last few days, she had been talking to psychologists and psychiatrists who specialized in phobia disorders. Meetings had been scheduled with several of them and Susan would accompany me if I wished. Then she left the office, leaving me a sheet of appointments and a stack of reading material.

"Of course, I read the material and kept a few of the appointments, but I just couldn't get into the right frame of mind to enter the type of therapy I probably needed. People heard about my situation and offers came in from medical schools, research facilities and even a medical museum for any number of positions. It was strongly suggested by St. Thomas's that I enter therapy to at least understand the reasons I could no longer perform surgery. I refused. Very serious meetings followed, and it was mutually decided – and with great regret – that I should take a sabbatical from St. Thomas's.

"After leaving the hospital and stopping by the flat to pack a case, I drove directly to Susan's office in Plymouth, leaving Calvin Nothquitt to sort out the implications of my crumbling career. For nearly three weeks, I stayed with Susan, Chris and their two young kids. One indication that I might have lost my mind is that I never complained about Jill and Dan. After many false starts and endless discussions, we finally settled on the notion that I would become a GP for a while, just until I could face therapy and overcome my phobia.

"In one of the many arguments Susan and I had during those three weeks, she told me that with the change in my career, my life had to change and finding a woman would be a good start. Of course, she was spouting nothing but sentimental rubbish and I told her so. She didn't care what I thought, she was sticking with me until I found a suitable replacement. Today, as I was helping her into the car, she told me I had found a suitable replacement."

And then Martin says nothing. For once Louisa is not going to jump in with a remark hoping that it will lead Martin to declare how he feels about her. She will leave Susan's comment and make Martin take the next step – finally. But she is hungry again and has the tiniest headache from the wine. Pushing her feelings aside, Louisa asks: "What are we going to do for dinner?" This seems to bring Martin out of his reverie as he blinks his eyes and says: "Isn't it too late for dinner?"

It is Saturday night in London and no one eats until 9! When Louisa was at Goldsmiths, the parties didn't start until 10 and ended at dawn. Martin grimaces and asks "what are you going to do, take me out for a pizza? You know you will never sleep after consuming all those carbohydrates."

"Who wants to sleep?" she asks.

"Yes, let's have pizza. First, though, let me check in with the locum and catch up with emails. It should take only a few minutes."

Louisa feels a little drained and decides to take a quick shower hoping it will refresh her. After the shower, she applies light make up and pulls her hair into a saucy ponytail with a red band. Adding to the effect, she tugs on jeans and a heavy blue jumper. She feels like a student again—maybe a graduate student. In the hall, she sees Martin still on the phone with the locum, but he motions that he is almost finished.

Louisa said she could understand his paper, so she picks it up again. After reading for several minutes, it appears that his study followed a group of 68 men whose heart disease was diagnosed between the ages of 40 and 45. One sample was treated with a drug and the second sample had one or two stints placed in their carotid arteries. The paper is so well written that Louisa is able to follow Martin's research and analyses and will try to discuss it with him tonight.

Soon Martin enters wearing trousers, a light blue shirt and dark blue jacket but no necktie. He says: "I'm ready for Saturday night in London!" They take their coats and close the door behind them. Martin is in a light mood and takes Louisa's hand. In the lift, he flips her ponytail, and she mentions that at school boys aren't allowed to touch girls' ponytails. Martin asks her if they obey. She laughs and replies "of course not" as the lift doors open. Waiting at the lobby is an elderly couple who smile benignly at Martin and Louisa. Then the woman has a second look and says: "Mr. Ellingham is that you?" Martin says: "Yes it is. Good night, Mrs. Montgomery." The woman gapes at him as they walk through the lobby hand-in hand. At the desk, Harry reminds them that the lobby door is locked on Saturday and Sunday nights at midnight. They will be back before then – Louisa adds "maybe."