Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.

ChapterTwenty-Five

Martin finished washing up and dried his hands thoroughly, making sure that the towel was clean first. He went into the lounge and sat down next to Louisa, intending to read one of his medical journals, but suddenly realised that he had forgotten about the repeat prescriptions. Resisting the temptation to swear, as Peter was old enough to add the words to his future vocabulary, he said,

'I have to go back to the surgery.'

'Can't it wait until tomorrow?' asked Louisa, disappointed.

'No.'

Martin picked up his bag and left.

Paul had forced himself to let his brain rule his emotions and had therefore not gone down to the pharmacy to see how Sally was, even though he was desperately worried about her. The decision had left him feeling wrung out and annoyed, he should be able to visit a friend in trouble without it being construed as evidence of guilt. Unfortunately, it was clear that Penhale would view a visit as suspicious and there was no possibility of not being seen, this was Port Wenn, after all, the gossips would spread the word before he'd been at the pharmacy for five minutes. He wasn't particularly concerned about Penhale's ludicrous suspicions per se but he was concerned about what Sally would think of them. Surely she wouldn't believe that he could ever do something like that? Taking a deep breath, he forced his emotions back under control. As a doctor, he could legitimately ring up and ask her friend how she was and say that he was available if she needed to talk and that would have to do for tonight. Sighing, Paul turned the vegetables back on and put the chicken under the grill.

He was half way through eating when he heard the surgery door opening. Going through, he found Martin in the surgery, turning the computer back on.

'Problem, Martin?'

'Repeat prescriptions.'

Paul watched as Martin impatiently clicked the mouse on nothing, trying to make the computer speed up. Noticing that the printer was loaded with ordinary paper, not blank prescriptions, he said,

'Where do you keep the prescription paper?'

Muttering under his breath, Martin turned away from the computer and opened the bottom drawer of the desk. Finding it empty, he went to the store cupboard and took out a new box. When he returned he found Paul sat at the computer, clicking through the screens until he got to the repeat prescriptions page. Once Martin had loaded the printer up, Paul said,

'I'll check them, you sign them.'

'Are you up to date with recent pharmacology developments?' asked Martin dubiously.

'Yes, I need to know about general medicines because so many of my patients have multiple prescriptions.'

'All right.'

Paul and Martin worked quickly through the repeat prescriptions and soon had a neat pile, signed and ready to be filled.

'Are you going to leave them here for people to take into Wadebridge?' asked Paul.

'Why?'

'Sally Tishell may not be well enough to do them.'

Martin looked at Paul in annoyance as he realised that he was right, because of that damn fool Clive Tishell getting himself murdered, he was likely to be without a pharmacist in the village for several weeks. Swearing, he took out his phone and dialled,

'Hello?'

'Doctor Ellingham here. I need to talk to Mrs Tishell.'

'Yes, Doctor. Hold on.'

Martin waited impatiently as the sound of muted conversation came down the line followed by Mrs Tishell's voice saying,

'Doctor Ellingham, how nice of you to call.'

'How are you feeling?'

'Not too bad. Very tired and anxious though.'

'Have they found the body?'

There was a quaver in Mrs Tishell's voice as she replied,

'Not yet but they'll go out again tomorrow.'

'Have you eaten?'

'Yes. Elizabeth made a casserole and I had a little.'

'Good. Are you drinking plenty as well?'

'Yes, Doctor.'

'Good. Make sure you keep warm.'

'Yes, Doctor.'

'I've got the repeat prescriptions here. What do you want me to do with them?'

'I…I don't know.'

'It would be extremely useful if you could manage to do them.'

There was a pause and Martin was about to speak again, when he was stopped by an indignant Paul,

'Martin! You can't put pressure on her like that! For goodness sake man, her husband's dead!'

'I'm not putting pressure on her! She may prefer to work to keep her mind off things.'

'Why not ask her that then, instead of implying that she'll be letting you down if she doesn't?'

'What? Utter nonsense, I was just telling the truth, it would be much easier for my patients if she could do them.'

'Yes but she's had a severe shock and needs to be cared for. Her mental state may be far too fragile to cope with any pressure,' said Paul furiously.

He snatched the phone from Martin, took a deep breath and said,

'Sally, Paul Milligan here. What Martin meant to say was that we can bring the prescriptions over if you think that keeping busy will help. Otherwise, we'll keep them at the surgery and people can get them filled elsewhere.'

'Hello, Paul. Actually, I think keeping busy might help. I…I'm finding the waiting rather difficult.'

'Yes, it must be. I'm sorry.'

'I…um…'

Hearing the tears in her voice, Paul longed to be able to make her feel better but there was nothing he could do. Clearing his throat, he said,

'We'll bring them right over.'

He said goodbye, then hung up and passed the phone back to Martin who was looking pleased.

'You were right, she wants to keep busy. I said we'd drop them over now.'

'Good.'

Martin picked up the prescriptions and they left the surgery together.

Five minutes later, they were inside the pharmacy talking to Sally Tishell whilst her friend Elizabeth hovered protectively. Paul watched Sally eagerly, drinking in the sight of her, even though she was very pale and he could tell from the way that she was holding her head that her neck was bothering her despite the collar. They had talked at length about her collar and he had concluded that she had mixture of physical and psychological issues. Before Clive's disappearance he had been hopeful that she might be willing to have treatment, though he had decided that it would be unethical to treat her himself in the light of his feelings for her. Martin thrust the prescriptions into Sally's hands and turned to leave. Paul hesitated, wanting to find some way to help her, and said,

'Sally, do you want to open for reduced hours tomorrow?'

Sally turned a slightly confused face towards him and he continued,

'You could open from eleven to twelve and from four to five, for prescriptions only, say.'

'That's a good idea,' said Elizabeth, encouragingly.

Sally hesitated and then said,

'Yes.'

Martin and Paul left and went their separate ways and Sally Tishell picked up the prescriptions and got to work, grateful for anything that would take away the horrible image of Clive's body being battered against the rocks by the sea.

When Martin got back to the cottage, Louisa was feeding Peter and the sight of his son contentedly suckling whilst Louisa gently smiled up at him, filled him with wonder.

'All done?' asked Louisa.

'Yes.'

'Good.'

'Is your arm hurting?'

'No. It feels a bit tired but it's not hurting.'

'Good. When do you see the physiotherapist?'

'A week tomorrow at eleven-thirty. You'll be in the middle of surgery so I'll get Joan to take me.'

'Good.'

Peter finished feeding and Martin took him from Louisa, saying,

'Shall I bath him?'

'Yes please, Martin.'

Martin spent the rest of the evening bathing Peter and reading to him until it was time for his last feed. Once he was asleep, Martin and Louisa sat in the lounge together. Martin started reading a medical journal and Louisa started going through the school's budget for next term.
Once she was sure that Peter was asleep, Louisa put the budget away and turned to look at Martin speculatively. He was completely focussed on what he was reading and looked completely cerebral. Smiling mischievously, she decided that it was time to bring the animal out of him. Without speaking, she stood up and casually removed all of her clothes, dropping them on the sofa beside Martin one by one. By the time she was naked, Martin had stopped reading and was staring intently at her. Without speaking, she held out her hand to Martin and led him upstairs.

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