Disclaimer: Doc Martin is the property of Buffalo Pictures. I own nothing.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Paul looked at Martin blankly for a moment, then said,
'You'd better ring Blackstone.'
'Yes.'
They carried on walking in silence and after a couple of minutes they reached they pharmacy. The door was locked so Martin knocked loudly. After a minute, Mrs Tishell came to the door and peered through before letting them in,
'Doctor Ellingham, Doctor Milligan, what can I do for you?'
'I've got tomorrow's repeat prescriptions,' said Martin, handing the pile to Mrs Tishell.
'And we wanted to see how you are,' said Paul, resisting the temptation to pull Sally into his arms. Instead he forced himself to conduct a clinical examination of her. Sally was pale and looked very tired but otherwise seemed all right physically. She met his eyes sadly and said,
'I don't know really. I just wish that they'd find him, then at least I'd know.'
'They still haven't found him?' said Martin incredulously.
'No, they went out again but he wasn't where he ought to be…if…if he went in where they said he did, that is. And it hasn't been stormy so…'
Sally trailed off helplessly, trying to hold back her tears. Paul put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed gently, saying,
'Is someone staying with you?'
'Yes, my friends have been very good. Sue had to pop home to make tea but she's coming back later.'
'Good. Is there anything we can do?'
'No. I just want them to find him.'
'Have you eaten today?' asked Martin, looking critically at her.
'Yes, Doctor Ellingham.'
'And are you drinking plenty?'
'Yes, my friends keep putting the kettle on.'
'Good. Call if you feel that you aren't coping,' said Martin.
'Or if you need someone to talk to,' said Paul.
They had turned to leave when something Sally said registered with Paul,
'Sally, what are you doing about food tonight?'
'I was going to get myself some soup, I'm not really hungry.'
'Did you eat a meal at midday?' demanded Martin.
'No,' admitted Sally.
'You need to maintain a balanced diet. Make yourself a proper meal.'
'Yes, Doctor Ellingham,' said Sally, trying to remember what she had in her cupboards.
'Why don't I stay and help?' suggested Paul.
'Could you? That would be very kind.'
Martin left and Paul followed Sally upstairs to her kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, Paul busied himself with checking the contents of Sally's fridge and cupboards,
'There's some ham in the fridge or sausages?'
'Not sausages,' said Sally, shuddering, 'and I'm not really in the mood for ham either.'
Paul moved over to the freezer and started looking through it,
'There's some mince or there are some fishcakes. Otherwise, it seems to be fish, which would need defrosting first.'
'I don't know,' said Sally, helplessly, her voice quavering.
Paul turned round and seeing the pain in Sally's eyes, automatically opened his arms to her. Sally burst into tears and flung herself into his arms.
Martin let himself into the cottage and was surprised to find it completely quiet. Putting his medical bag in its place, he walked through to the lounge and then stopped dead. Louisa and Peter were lying on the floor together and for one horrible moment he thought that something had happened to them. However, a superficial examination revealed that they were asleep. As he bent over them, Louisa snored and Peter gurgled and wriggled. Kneeling beside Louisa, Martin reached out and touched her cheek, saying,
'Louisa, you need to wake up.'
Louisa grumbled in her sleep and slowly opened her eyes,
'Martin?'
'You fell asleep on the floor.'
Louisa levered herself up, wincing as her muscles protested,
'Ouch.'
'Something wrong?'
'Just stiff. I'm too old to sleep on the floor.'
'Yes.'
Louisa looked round frantically, saying,
'Where's Peter?'
'On his play mat.'
Louisa looked at Peter, peacefully asleep, one hand holding his teddy bear and tried to calm down. Taking a deep breath she said,
'I'm sorry, Martin. I was playing with him and I was trying to encourage him to roll over so I lay down beside him and I fell asleep.'
'It would probably be best not to lie down with him when you're tired. Most accidents involving babies or young children are due to negligent parenting.'
'Are you saying that I'm a negligent parent?'
'No, I was just pointing out the undesirability of falling asleep when Peter is not in a secure location.'
'I already know that!' said Louisa furiously.
'Well, there's no need to be so emotional about it.'
'Emotional! I'd rather be emotional than patronising and offensive!'
Realising that she was shaking with rage, Louisa brushed past Martin, grabbed her coat and handbag and stormed out of the front door slamming it behind her.
Bewildered, Martin watched her march down the street, wondering why telling her she was being emotional had made her so angry. He had simply stated a fact. If only everyone were logical, his life would be so much easier.
Joe Penhale was feeling a warm glow of contentment as he walked into the pub. The inspector had been very pleased with him for arresting Rob Lewis and had even complimented him on having the presence of mind to make sure that he had witnesses present when he'd searched Lewis. They had known that cocaine was coming into the area via one of the ports but the coastguard had been concentrating on the larger harbours. After the execution of a search warrant had netted them half a kilo of what they were almost certain was cocaine from Rob's shed, they had questioned Rob for three hours and he had crumbled, giving up the time and place of his next delivery. The coastguard and police were busy setting up a joint operation and the inspector had mentioned the possibility of a commendation for him. The only blot on the landscape was Rob Lewis' vehement denial of any involvement with Clive Tishell's death. However, even the inspector agreed that given their past history, Clive would have been certain to turn him in if he'd found out about the drugs, which gave Rob Lewis a strong motive for murder. The inspector had taken Rob Lewis back to Truro with him and was going to question him more in the morning.
Joe's sense of wellbeing was increased by his reception at the pub. John smiled at him and said,
'Congratulations, Officer.'
'Just doing my job,' said Joe, gratified.
Several of the regulars gathered round and before Joe knew it, he'd been bought a pint and was being praised for his bravery.
Jane Baker hurried through the hospital determined to finally spend a few minutes with her best friend. She'd hardly seen Susan since the tragedy at the school. They'd spoken and emailed but she'd been spending all of her free time with Chelsey and Emily. Today, for the first time since the tragedy, Chelsey was having tea with a friend so Jane had spent a companionable hour alone with Emily then left for work half an hour early. Susan was currently on lates, so as long as there wasn't an emergency, they could chat whilst Susan worked. As she walked, Jane reflected that it would be nice to talk to someone from outside Port Wenn. Much as she loved the village it could feel a bit claustrophobic at times, particularly when the gossips were in full flight. The supposed love triangle between Clive, Sally and Paul had sparked speculation as wide-ranging as it was offensive. Jane had known Sally Tishell all her life and found the ill-natured gossip infuriating. Susan had grown up in Exeter and trained there, coming to Truro immediately afterwards so was completely divorced from Port Wenn and it's shenanigans. Susan and Jane had worked in the children's ward together when they had first qualified and had been friends ever since.
Jane walked on to Delabole Ward, finding Susan doing observations on a patient. Jane waited until she had finished then said,
'Busy?'
'Got to do obs on a couple more. Walk and talk?'
Jane nodded and they chatted happily as Susan worked, pausing to chat to the patients as they reached each one. As they reached the last side ward, Susan said,
'Time for our man of mystery.'
'Man of mystery?'
'The police picked him up on the moors a couple of nights ago, stark naked and very drunk. Refuses to say who he is.'
They went into the side ward and Jane stopped dead, saying,
'That's no man of mystery, that's Clive Tishell!'
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