Doc Martin' and its existing characters is the property of Buffalo Pictures, Ltd., of which I have no affiliation – only admiration. I love the characters, and the actors who bring them to life, and do try my best to treat them with the utmost respect . This post season 6 story follows where 'Then We Must Change' left off, so reading that one first should make a lot of things a whole lot clearer. No intended spoilers, but I do reference events from throughout the series. 'DCI Banks' is the property of Left Bank Pictures, no copyright infringements or existing case spoilers are intended, I'm just borrowing a character or two.
Thanks for the reviews, they are always appreciated and happy reading. -DC
Time Travel
Chapter Twenty Nine – "Time"
"Martin, please, just five minutes of your time?"
"No, absolutely not Louisa."
"But I miss James and I want uncle G to see him, he really wants to see him, isn't that right Uncle G?"
"I do yes, but not if – "
" – See, it'd mean a lot to us Martin."
"It is just not something I had planned for today, Louisa, and you know how I'm not very comfortable with – "
A residual wave of nausea hits me and I'm reminded of our latest project.
" – Well, I would like to see my son, is that a problem? I hadn't planned on pushing your son into this world in some pub in the middle of nowhere neither, and I sure as hell wasn't very comfortable doing it. But I did it anyways, now didn't I, hmm? So along those lines this really shouldn't be a problem for you Martin, am I right?"
"Yes, right. . . . just tell me what I need to do."
"Here, Helen can tell you how to set it all up."
I hand my mobile to my sister knowing she can walk Martin through the whole Skype thing much better than I'd be able to. James has never seen me on a computer screen, so I hope it goes well. Helen set up the FaceTime thing on my iPad when we were in Bristol, Skype as well, but we've yet to try it as she hasn't found the right time to tell her boys about me yet.
"Yes, no I agree Dr. Ellingham. But you'll be doing us all a favour really, it's all she's been talking about since she got this idea half hour ago . . . ."
"Mm yes, my wife can be like that. Um Helen, did you sort it . . . rather, did you have a chance to talk things through, with your father I mean, you know . . . ?"
"Yes, mm – it was . . . adequately resolved."
"Mm, good. That's good."
"Right."
"And . . . how is Louisa? Eating well, staying hydrated – resting up sufficiently?"
"Appears so, yes. Did you google 'Skype' and navigate to their homepage?"
"Yes, got that. Um, and has she been sick at all, any nausea or vomiting that you've noticed?"
"Hm, not really as far as I know, but yes to the latter. Does that answer your questions?"
"Ah, yes . . . thank you. It's normal, you know – the vomiting, and should start to taper in another week or so, as week twelve is usually when – "
" – Right, been there a time or four as you may recall, doctor, and I advised the subject accordingly, it's really just an inconvenience more then anything. Um, shall we continue?"
"Right, yes and . . . thank you for advising her, mm. She's more likely to listen to you, by far."
"Oh . . .yes, I suppose that could be true, hadn't really thought about that aspect. Now, set up a new Skype profile and once you've done that find Louisa by her email address and make contact. That's it. She's logged on and ready to talk with you on her iPad."
"Right, I should be able to do that."
"Yes, so I would hope."
". . . Ah, there you are. Well that was a quick and relatively painless process, nothing like my initial botched attempts at making contact with you in person, now was it? Over the air rather than in the air I suppose is the way for me to make overtures in the future to avoid misunderstandings. Oh, and you are too close to the screen, Louisa, not quite in focus."
"Mm, I see – good to know. And just for your reference, Dr. Ellingham, this is just like video conferencing. We can all see you and hear you, and likewise. Gottit?"
"Oh God . . . Helen. Yes, think I got that now. Thank you."
" – Hello James! Have you been a good boy for your daddy today?"
"Mm yes, yes he has. Look, can we move this along, it's getting late. Here he is, Mr. Glasson, now you've seen him."
My husband is literally holding our son straight out in front of him, practically sending him into the computer camera by the looks of it.
James looks happy though, giggling at his father's antics.
"Martin . . ."
My uncle is laughing in the background now as well, though I see nothing funny about my husband's behaviour.
"Oh now look what you've done! Fingerprints all over my screen. No, no – NOT the keys, James Henry. No you may not, young man."
"Um, Uncle G, can I officially introduce you to my . . . husband?"
"Well, you'll have to. She won't – and two peas in a pod those two by the sound of it."
I'm not clear as to whether his comparison is meant for Martin and James or Martin and Helen, though I reckon either would fit in this case as my uncle looks over his shoulder at my sister. She appears as clueless as Martin does when it comes to the social nicety of mutual introductions.
"Martin, this is Ben Glasson, Dad's brother. Uncle G, Martin Ellingham – Doctor Ellingham, my husband. But you've spoken several times already, so . . . well, just wanted to introduce you is all."
"Mm, yes. Um, hello."
Martin's at least acknowledging my request, which is progress, as he peeks around James who from our viewpoint still appears about twice the size of his daddy. A daddy who is looking quite handsome I must admit . . . and he's being awfully good for doing this for me – all of it. I'll have to reward him properly once I get home.
His birthday's coming up in two weeks as well.
"Can you say hello to your Uncle G, James?"
"Oh for God's sake, Louisa, he's not going to recognise people on a computer screen, especially when he doesn't know who they are."
"Now then good doctor, don't be so sure – he looks like a right clever lad. He may not know who I am, but he seems very interested in who's behind me, isn't that right, James Henry? No, he's not looking at my old mug, that's for sure."
Uncle G is right, James seems to have discovered my sister, which is impressive as she's yet to say a word, thus not letting him know she's not me . . . like had happened in Bristol. This is very exciting.
" – Helen, oh I think he remembers you, look at him! See, he's looking at me and then at you and then the both of us, so I think he knows I'm me and you're you – well, you know what I mean . . . that we're not each other. Like in the hotel that day, remember, when you first met him?"
I nod at Helen hoping she'll agree with me, so far she's only staring at me blankly."
"But that day he'd heard both our voices before deciding we are two different people, and then once he'd figured we sound different it's like he'd discovered you as he has now, but today you've not said a word, know what I mean? Oh look, now he's reaching for you, wants you to pick him up! I really think he remembers his Auntie H, don't you agree Helen, don't you think he remembers you?"
Helen looks back at me with a rather odd expression.
"He seems less confused than you, that's for sure."
Hm, well I truly believe he recognises Helen and it's got him very excited indeed, to the exasperation of Martin. My dear husband looks less than impressed with his son's wriggling arms and legs, legs that just knocked the prescription pad off his father's desk and then . . .
. . . nothing?
" – What just happened, did my husband hang up on me?"
"No, I think your son did," my sister and her dad both chime in at exactly the same time.
"Oh . . . right."
Just then my mobile rings. Martin.
"Are you happy now that our son has vandalised my office and destroyed my laptop?"
"I'm sure it's not that bad, Martin."
"Oh, you're sure, are you?"
He sounds a bit stressed, but not angry, well not really.
"Look, I need to get our supper ready . . . how are you feeling?"
"Good, great actually. Haven't been sick since before breakfast and we've had a really good afternoon. And I'd planned to show you a very special picture we found, before your son so rudely cut us off, but now I can't. . . and I really wanted for you to see it."
"Um, perhaps you could take a picture of the photo with your iPad and email it to me? Or no, wait don't do that, I don't want to have to restart my computer until I have put James to bed for the night. Send it to my mobile, as one of those MMS picture messages, then I'll look at it during supper, providing it has come through."
"You sure?"
"Um, yes."
"Thank you Martin, for being such a great daddy – James looked so happy, so relaxed . . . well, until I had him wound up in less than five minutes time 'course."
"Yes, the, um . . . Newton woman had told Ruth the same thing when she picked him up early this afternoon, said he'd been unusually calm all morning. And as you know I promised Aunt a better fish supper tonight for picking him up from the woman, so I really need to get the fish started."
"Her name is Hana, Martin . . . and yes, I remember. I'm jealous, you know, that Ruth gets to have dinner with such a handsome date."
" – Louisa! She's my Aunt for goodness sake."
"I know she is Martin, and that makes you less handsome in my eyes how exactly? I'm teasing you, that was actually meant as a compliment you know, I really miss you . . . and James."
"Ah, right. Louisa, I really need to go . . . "
"Right. I love you Martin, thanks for being you, you're really good at it actually. I'll see you two handsomest of boys at the airport tomorrow then?"
"That's not even a word you know. And yes, we'll be at Newquay at 5:50 sharp . . . we look forward to seeing you as well, mm. Bye."
He rings off before I can say anything more. Bye then Martin. . . .
"Your lad is the spitting image of his dad, Glasson, really is."
"Told you Uncle G."
" – And I want to meet him."
"Meet him?"
I doubt Martin would want to spend that much time on the road with James, not to mention have me travelling again so soon.
"Yes, I'd like to meet him, while I still can, and also your doctor of course. Can that be arranged, Glasson?"
"Oh, um yes – I don't see why not."
"Good. Helen, can we make a trek down Cornwall way to visit with Martin and Louisa and their handsome lad, are you going to be able to . . . manage it, with Michael?"
"Um yes, I'll . . . think of something Dad."
"And maybe you could ask your guv for a couple of days off work, yeah? It needs to be soon, whilst I still have more good days than bad . . . whilst I've still got some life in me, and it's a long drive both ways."
"Oh we'd love to have you Uncle G – anytime, and a long weekend would be best."
If he feels he can manage the trip, then all the better. Will keep him busy as well and keep his mind off of . . . dying.
"Good, that's sorted then girls, maybe weekend after next? And whilst there I'll check in with Terry as well, need to have a word, make a few things clear to my dear brother before I shuffle off this mortal coil."
Well, that ought to be an interesting visit, guess Helen will go with him?
"We've got to go in your motor, Helen, flying is not an option anymore with the pressurisation and I'd rather not be stuck on a train should I get sick."
He looks to Helen for confirmation, clearly needing this to happen.
"That's fine, Dad, we'll make it happen, 'right?"
Of course the surgery won't do . . . but Al and Ruth would jump at the chance of 'real' test subjects, I'm sure, the farm's more or less ready and they're just waiting for their lodging permit to make it official.
"You'll probably be staying at Martin's Aunt Ruth's farm, if that's alright? It's a very nice B&B in the making, they just finished renovating it. The surgery is very small, no spare room really there I'm afraid. But the farm's only a few minutes outside the village and maybe we'll come stay as well. I'll have to talk to Martin first, 'course, but we've stayed there before and really love it."
Which will also make the fact that there will be two of me around the village a little less obvious to the villagers, well . . . at least at first. Ought to prove interesting for sure when that all hits the village gossip. . . Bert will have a field day.
Yeah, Helen will no doubt fare better retreating to the privacy of the farm at the end of the day, though she'll need a distraction from the villagers. If we don't end up staying I could send her with James I reckon, or . . .
"Maybe you could bring Michael and the boys with you, Helen? Make it a family trip for all of you? It's a lovely farm and Portwenn is a very family-friendly little village. And if they fancy fishing at all, my friend Al could – "
" – No."
"Oh. Okay . . . um, why not?"
"Helen, luv, maybe you should – "
" – I said NO, 'right?"
She cuts her dad off and gets up, striding outside onto the cool dark terrace and lights a cigarette within seconds, pacing restlessly. I sense I just missed something big . . . whatever it is. And today'd gone so well up till this point. We'd almost been a happy family, or so I'd thought.
However now it feels awkward and I'm just . . . sad all of a sudden, worried.
Uncle G looks sad as well, concerned. I should give him some space I reckon, could use a minute or two myself to be honest.
"I'll just go upstairs to my room, well Helen's room, and . . . plug my iPad back in then, shall I?"
"No please Glasson, stay put, let Helen calm down and finish her smoke, give her some time. Again, this has got nothing to do with you, okay?'
"Right, if you say so. . . ."
"She's got nowhere to go now but back in here with us – her family, and she needs to face up to things. She can't go on like this any longer, I can't go along with this now, not beeing able to see it through. It should never have happened to begin with and it's gone too far as it is. In trying to help I'm afraid I've become an enabler and it's only made things worse."
He looks through the glass at Helen and I feel for him, he's clearly distressed, both with himself and for his daughter.
"I seem to have a knack for it, making things worse, but life's got a funny way of catching one up though don't it. . . ."
Here I thought my family had problems, Mum, Dad . . . Martin.
I guess we all do . . . and, well, this is my family as well now, we're all in this together – whatever this is.
As uncomfortable as I'm feeling right now I know Helen feels worse, like running – running far, far away. We're both good at that, cut from the same cloth. She's just finished her cigarette and is reaching for another, so I guess now's as good, or as bad, a time as any to offer a shoulder to lean on. . . .
I fetch the old blanket off the sofa and open the sliding door, slowly. I don't want to scare her this time, she seems plenty unnerved already. 'An embrace is a good catch-all anytime when words just won't come.' Isn't that what I usually tell myself?
Before she manages to light up yet again I wrap her mum's blanket around her and walk us back through the door and on over to the sofa where we sit down.
Out of the corner of my eye I notice my uncle closing the door and walking through to the kitchen, giving us some space.
I silently thank him.
Carefully I put my arms around the blanket, the blanket that's wrapped around my sister, and I hug her properly for the first time – without so much as a word to spoil it.
Words will come in time.
In spite of herself she can't hold back the tears as they turn into a flood of emotions. And here, under the partial cover of her mum's knit blanket, she finally collapses into my shoulder, sobbing in earnest. We stay like that for a very long time . . . just the two of us, until eventually she calms a little, relaxes a little. Uncle G must've noticed and chooses this time to make his appearance, showing support the best way he knows how.
" – Vodka and tonic, for Helen. No ice or lemon. A ginger ale for you, luv. Hope that's alright."
"Oh, thank you. Yes, lovely."
My sister sits up straight and downs her entire mixed drink in one fell swoop. Rubbing at her eyes she then proceeds to stare at the worn shag carpet beneath our feet.
"I haven't told my kids about you, Louisa, because . . ."
She sobs weakly still.
". . . because I haven't told Michael about you."
Oh . . .
"And . . ."
Her dad offers her a tissue and she accepts it. First she just balls it up in a clenched fist, but then she wipes at her nose with it, making her voice unusually nasally as she continues on.
"And . . . Michael doesn't know about you because . . . because Michael doesn't know about me."
. . . I see.
Though I don't 'see' I don't think, not really. They have four children together and she's never once shared with him where she came from in life? She's known since she was sixteen, how can you . . . carry something like that?
Looking to me blankly she wraps the blanket completely around herself – finally accepting of her mother's embrace.
" – Michael doesn't know about me because . . . because he was never told."
My uncle now looks to me with guilt as well.
"He was never told, I never told him . . . and now it's too late, the time has passed."
She shakes her head, at herself, at life . . . at time?
"It's just too late, life's moved on Louisa. I missed my chance – and now the time has passed."
XxX
To be continued . . .
