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Chapter Fourteen

Relief was tangible throughout the small group, filled with a glimpse of hope, brought together at Louisa's bedside. A family. His family. Peter observed them all, the love for her that he felt as well evident in all of their faces. He had so much to thank her for. They all did. He cast his mind back, remembering how she'd touched them, how the paths that their lives had taken was all inevitably down to her.

He didn't remember much about the night forty years ago, when his life had hung in the balance. His mum had given a glowing report of what happened, and with the village being what it was it wasn't hard to determine that her story was basically true. Louisa had protested he should go to hospital, made sure that he got there. She had answered the call in the early hours, realised something was wrong. Trekked across town in the middle of the night, raised the alarm. Called Martin, assisted him. Put aside everything between the two of them to make sure that a nine year old boy lived that night. Although Martin had been the hero of the hour, Peter had never forgotten that had Louisa not been there, Martin would in the morning have been dealing with tragedy. He owed her his life.

So did Martin, in a metaphorical sense. Peter was sure that had Louisa not have come into his life a sullen, monosyllabic, bitter old man would be hobbling around London right now. He'd never tried to hide the fact that he hated the cheery, interfering little village. When that bony, domineering woman had come along and helped him do away with the blood phobia it was Louisa who had convinced him to stay – twice. Had she let him go, he'd have spent the next thirty eight years in London, in luxury, a famous surgeon. He'd probably still have the use of his legs. But he'd not have everything he held dear in life. Martin Ellingham lived for his wife, his children and his grandchildren. He gave them everything – everything he did and would do in the future was for them. They were his life. Without Louisa, he'd have none of it, no purpose. He owed her his life as well.

Had Louisa not been there, neither would Martin. Had Martin not been there, neither would their children. In the act of giving birth to her children, she'd given so many more lives than just three. Martin wasn't the only brilliant medic who had considered leaving Portwenn. Peter had actually made the move for a time, to work in the local fracture clinic in Plymouth after leaving university.

xxx

One day, one of the local university students had been escorted in, her stormy face thunderous and beautiful. His breath was taken for just a second, until he had noticed the bloody mess that was her left arm. Bone was poking gruesomely out of the skin, which looked like it had been mauled. Most men would have cried or perhaps passed out with such a severe injury. Not this girl, not… Joan, her name was. Her face was pale with shock, but apart from a few yelps she made do with a lot of determined swearing before she received some local anaesthetic and he worked on resetting her bone. As she rolled her eyes at all the inconvenience that the aftermath of her biking accident would bring, he couldn't help but be amused.

As she stood to leave and the assistant brought him her files to sign, Peter gulped at the name on the top of the form. He couldn't be expected to recognise her, could he? Last time he'd seen her she was five – and now her hair was dyed blue.

It was sort of against code of conduct to ask out patients.

It was definitely against code of conduct to ask out Martin Ellingham's daughter.

xxx

Somehow, the obstacles had been cleared and now he couldn't imagine life without Joan. He was sure Debbie felt the same about James. Life wouldn't be the same. Then there was Shaun, Holly, Amy, Alice and Jamie – more people who wouldn't be here without the grandma who was such a massive part of their lives. Oh, how she loved her grandchildren.

He looked across at the last person in the room whose life she owed to Louisa. Still hidden at the moment, sleeping under her mother's skin. The little girl for whom he would risk everything. His daughter. Louisa had to fight, had to meet her. She'd been so excited. Any other eventuality would just be unfair.

But then life wasn't fair.

He heard the precise clicking of the nurses shoes as they tapped closer and closer down the corridor. He took one last look at the perfect scene, of the group of people whose lives were entwined by the woman laying still in the bed. Laying still, but hanging on. Not yet ready to let go.

The nurse came in, broke the tranquil scene. She started checking tubes, monitors, requesting that the patient have some peace. The group all said goodbye to Louisa in turn, before filing out into the corridor. Martin looked up at his son in law, face weary but determined.

'Peter, take Joan home.'

For once, she didn't argue. She too looked older than her years, practically dead on her feet as she made her way slowly towards the door. As Peter caught up, wrapped an arm around her waist, he looked back to see Martin, alone, wheeling his chair back into the waiting room.

xxx

Martin was awoken from where he slumped, wincing at the stiffness of his neck from the unusual position. He looked at the clock. Nine hours had passed, and the bright light of spring was streaming into the waiting room. It was then that he noticed the nurse standing in the doorway.

'Mr Ellingham, if you'd like to come and see your wife?'

His head cleared each passing second as the life came back into his arms. Had she woken? She should have done so hours ago, he was surprised that they hadn't come to fetch him sooner.

Reaching the room, he could tell that something was wrong. She was lying there still, in much the same position as she had been the last time he had seen her.

'She should have come round by now.'

'Not all patients… some take longer than others. Your wife had major surgery, there were complications… we really can't say anything definitive about her condition yet.'

Martin had snatched up the chart at the end of her bed, and was now looking at it in a daze.

'That's low. Too low. She's deteriorating.'

'Like I said, it's too early for any solid statements.'

'She's deteriorating.'

The nurse seemed at a loss for words. The man before her wasn't like the partners she usually had to deal with. Completely calm. Intelligent. Matter of fact. This one wasn't going to bury his head in the sand. The words he was using were clinical. She could almost be talking to one of the surgical team. She decided that in this case, honesty was the best policy.

'Right now, unfortunately yes.'

'Could you put a call in to Peter Cronk, please? Could you ask him to bring her family?'

'I'll see what I can do.'

She left the room, and Martin headed back up to his wife's bedside.

This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't how it was supposed to work. This was a nightmare… his worst nightmare come true.

xxx

There had been a scream, her face contorted with agony. Martin gripped her hand, terrified. Something was wrong, and Louisa was entirely lost in her own world. Suddenly there was a squall, voices bubbled up around him. It was over, he sensed, but he couldn't take his eyes off Louisa, neither she for him. There was beeping, hysteria. Only Louisa seemed calm.

'Where's Charlie?'

'He's at home. Joan's looking after him.'

'What about… baby?'

'It's a girl. She's fine.'

Tears stung his eyes as the nurses urged him to keep talking to her.

'Stay… stay with me.'

'I'm not going anywhere.'

Louisa's eyes closed.

'Is she… is she…?'

'She's healthy, she's beautiful, and she's perfect. See her yourself, open your eyes. Open your eyes, Louisa!'

'Martin?'

He had awoken with a jolt.

'Martin, what's wrong?'

Louisa's face bent over him in concern. His face grew red as he realised that his eyes were wet.

'Nothing.'

'It doesn't look like nothing.'

'You died.'

Louisa looked taken aback.

'Oh. Well. I suppose it's a good thing you're clearly distraught, then.'

'Yes.'

'So, how did I die?'

'That's a bit morbid.'

'Well it isn't real, is it?'

'No. It isn't real.'

Louisa could see that Martin's eyes, whilst looking in her general direction, were still glazed over.

'It'll help if you talk it over.'

'You died in childbirth. The child survived, but you didn't.'

'So I never got to know Charlie?'

'It wasn't Charlie. It was a girl. Charlie was staying with Joan.'

'So we had a daughter. What was she called?'

'I didn't get that far, you woke me up.'

'And you'd rather leave me dead? Come on Martin, it'd be your daughter. What would you call her?'

Martin really didn't see the point of pursuing this line of questioning, but admittedly it was taking his mind away from the dream. He pondered.

'Elizabeth.'

'That's a nice name. Why Elizabeth?'

'Elizabeth was my first girlfriend.'

Louisa looked astonished for the second time of the night.

'You'd name our daughter after your ex-girlfriend?'

That was when she noticed a subtle smile playing around Martin's lips.

'What is it? Martin Ellingham, what are you not telling me?'

'We were ... we were five.'

Louisa hit him over the head with her pillow.

xxx

As he mentally fended off soft blows, Martin suddenly came back to the present. There was Louisa, lying in the stark surroundings of the hospital room. There was to be no waking from this nightmare. No Louisa, bending concerned over him. Asking childish questions to take his mind off things. He remembered feeling foolish, but it had worked. He'd even felt human enough to wind her up. It turned out that awful as the joke had been, it had started a brief one-sided pillow fight, which quickly progressed to a much more interesting activity.

As if fate was tempting them, nine months later the daughter of the dream had been born, dragging a surprise brother along with her. Back then, things had seemed so simple. About new lives. This time was a far off dot in the distance. Neither of them had ever dreamed this scenario. He remembered back to their wedding. Those fateful words. 'Til Death Do Us Part.' What had seemed like an innocent vow back then, a promise to stay together forever, now seemed to be taunting him. He'd never thought he'd see them part. Because he always thought he'd go first.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She shouldn't die before him. Women statistically live longer than men. She shouldn't die before him. He was ten years older that her. She shouldn't die before him. He was crippled.

She couldn't die before him, because he couldn't live without her.

xxx

'She looks like she's sleeping.'

'No, she doesn't.'

Martin took offence at Charlie's comment. During his surgical career, he'd heard that phrase so many times from tearful relatives – most often when the patient was dead.

She didn't look like she was sleeping; she looked like she was unconscious. Oh, how beautiful she looked when she slept. How he wished he could watch her sleep again. Sleep was such a natural state - there was nothing natural about the state she was in. The mannerisms he was used to after so many years together were all missing. Louisa always slept curled up on her left side, entwined in the duvet, cuddling a corner. Now she was flat on her back, her left arm outstretched and rigid in the thick white cast above the blanket. Her face was pale, devoid of the wonderful variety of expression that it usually displayed. Even the familiar sound of her steady breathing was unnaturally altered by the various tubes in place in her nose and mouth. The snores she so vehemently denied – she didn't have to now. She was surrendered to the powerful pain medication. He longed to hear just one. He longed for her to do anything, absolutely anything, to show him that his wife was still there.

But there was nothing. They could do nothing but stay by her side as she remained oblivious to the grief around her, dead to the world.