Chapter 25

Friends

"Idiot," I muttered to the closed door.

But Louisa tried to soothe me. "No, Martin, Joe's not an idiot! Must you always be so harsh? Honestly."

"Well, what you call Penhale?"

She blinked her eyes at me. "I think he, as a friend, wanted to check on you. He heard you might be sick, so he came to see if you were alright."

"Humph."

"Don't humph at me, Martin!" she cautioned.

I shook my head at her.

She went on, "Well Joe is, or wants to be your friend, got it?"

I turned away from her. Friends. Humph, friends, no thanks. I had friends or those I thought were my friends, who then turned on me.

She tugged on my sleeve. "Martin, Joe is, well he's Joe, right? And he wants to be your friend, just like Mark Mylow or Roger Fenn wanted to be."

I shook my head at her. "No thanks."

"So you don't need any friends, that it? Hm?" Her eyes glared at me. "All alone up here in your castle? The drawbridge up and locked?"

I had needed, no wanted friends at one time, but that had passed. I had been burned and abused far too often.

"Martin! There's lots of folks who would want to be your friend!"

I sighed at her. "Oh?" My hand waved towards the front window as if to say 'and who out there would be my friend?'

"I mean it!" she nearly shouted. "I…"

"I don't need…."

"Oh no Martin! Don't you say that! Everybody needs friends! Even you!"

Did I need friends? I looked more closely at her face and then I knew. "I'll tell you what I need," I told her softly.

She nearly recoiled and one hand began to play with her hair. "What… what, uhm, that's Martin?"

How can I tell her? Tell her the horrible winter and spring it has been? She was gone – up to London. There wasn't a minute of an hour of a day or a week or month I hadn't thought about her. What was she doing, how was she in London? London's a far cry from Cornwall and though Louisa had gone to school up there, there was a massive difference between the two places.

I had imagined her as a lost little girl adrift in that sea of humanity. Oh London I knew, the shops and thronged streets, the beeping taxis and buses, the rushing Tube, bright lights, and noise of the place and how it could eat up country people.

I hadn't wanted Louisa to be damaged by London; be made harsher or to be made less caring. But here she was bearing our baby trying to buck me up; telling me what I needed.

But of course I had missed her with an ache that physically hurt, for when she was absent I was diminished and found it easier then to complain louder, to bark at my thoughtless patients with unbridled fierceness.

One frigid February day Pauline came into my examination room and closed the door, looking sheepishly at me, while she held patient notes out of my reach. "Doc, have you called her?" At least she had enough sense to cover her usual outlandish costume with a heavy cardigan, so my senses weren't subjected to the usual riot of colors she wore.

My mind was still awash with the latest assault of dim-wittedness from Mrs. Hooper who had decided to start dosing herself with some smelly concoction she'd whipped up herself instead of the anti-inflammatories she required for her rheumatoid arthritis. The fool woman cracked open a smelly jar of green goop under my nose, explaining it was beach sand with a mixture of seaweed, sassafras, and carrot juice explaining she heated it and applied it as a poultice.

The putrid smell made me gag. I swept the glass jar from her hand then marched straight out the front door to the bin and deposited the witch's brew into the container. The smell still lingered in my office and I was getting a stress headache right behind my left eye.

"What?" I said to my so-called receptionist.

"Louisa. Remember her? About five six, chestnut hair, gray eyes?"

"None of your business," I grunted as I tried to take the notes from her hand but she held them further away. I snapped my fingers. "Give."

"No, Doc, look, just call her. Has she called you? If she has I'd have known if she called during office hours unless she called your mobile. But she hasn't. So the ball's in your court."

I glared at her until she grudgingly handed me the patient notes. I snatched them away and pulled the stiff card from the sleeve. The card itself had been covered with a large yellow sticky note.

"Just when Al was in Africa I missed him, boy did I miss him. But I was stubborn, angry you know, and didn't want to give in so I just stewed in my own juices. If that big idiot hadn't been so head strong and would have called for help…"

"Pauline! Shh!" I peered down at the sticky note and the printed hand writing. "Now wait a minute!"

Pauline smiled. "In case you forgot, that's Louisa's mobile number. Just call her, Doc. What have you got to lose? Just say hello."

My headache exploded into a full bore thing which clouded my vision for a moment. "Pauline… this is none…"

She shook her head. "I can see it, Doc and I'm not the only one who can see you're sufferin' fierce. You giant dimwit just call her. All this time it must be tearin' your heart out. If you had a heart… a regular Tinman you are."

I caught a weak smell of Louisa's scent – Kenzo Flower with a dash of hair conditioner, a faint aroma of our chicken dinner from her lips, the slightest whiff of her lipstick, the sense as well she was a real life human being that I let inside my castle, then watched as she walked away after we agreed to part.

"Martin?" she said as she backed up a step.

"Louisa, thank you, for helping me… up there on the path."

"Of course. The fainting part."

I ducked my head.

"What caused a panic attack then? Was it like what happens when you see blood?"

I nodded. "Somewhat."

"But what caused it?"

"Louisa, that phone call for you?"

"Oh, yeah, Audrey and Arthur. Good to hear from them."

"Why did they call?"

"Audrey was convinced I was hurt or something."

"But Strain didn't harm you, fortunately."

"Thank God for that. But Audrey felt I needed something, so she called. What about it?"

When I saw the wavy outline through my kitchen door two weeks ago, my heart had leapt into action; speeding up, pounding in my ears. I'd dared not hope it was Louisa, for I'd been fooled once in the school by another teacher with dark hair like hers. It was the same reaction I always got when I glimpsed her outline, the back of her head, or the curve of her elbow as I came around a corner in Portwenn. God I had missed her and then she was standing right on my doorstep with an embarrassed look to her face and jutting out belly that told everyone of our successful yet also failed lovemaking. "This Audrey person was worried."

"Yeah, yeah, you know; just a funny feeling, she told me, but you told me that's all rubbish."

I watched her face for a few seconds. She was the closest thing to a friend I had in this ill-begotten and back-water place. Would I let her leave again? Seemed I was good at it. "Ahm, would you care for afters? Or tea?"

"Getting late," she said. "Better be… you know." She turned about went to the sofa and picked up her cardigan and her handbag. "I'll be off."

I was standing rigidly by the door wishing for something to change.

"So, Martin, thank you for dinner. It was nice," she told me.

"Yes." I'd fallen into default monosyllable mode.

She nodded her head once or twice. "So…"

I moved aside so she took the doorknob in hand.

I blurted out, "That phone call, from your London friend. You said she reminded you of something."

She looked at the floor. "Doesn't matter." Louisa turned the knob and pulled open the door. "Dinner was…"

"Good, yes, I'm glad that we ate together." I had the same feeling I had on the Coastal Path; that things were sliding away out of reach as the door swung open. "If…"

"Yes?" she asked somewhat hopefully.

"If you notice any discomfort, uhm, after the beach thing, call me. You're sure your spine is fine? No stiffness? And no… uhm... contraction feelings – which might be a sign of early labor?"

She beamed. "Doctor Ellingham – always taking care of his patients."

"You're not my patient, Louisa. I was - disappointed by that - but you were right, are right. Considering our… connection, that would… be..."

"Odd."

"Inappropriate, yes. But if it is emergency? Anything at all; if you have any concern? Call."

She closed her eyes a moment. "Audrey Pickles reminded me that I needed something in London, Martin."

"You lost your job."

She shook her head. "It was, uhm… something else. I lost my job later."

My mouth had gone dry "So this thing was?"

She pulled her cardigan over her torso, got it settled and then slung her brown leather handbag over her shoulder. Her eyes squinted out into the dusk, so I switched on the front light.

She glanced back at me and I saw her lip twitch. "You," she whispered then stepped though and closed the door behind her.