Stirling spends a wonderful day in Bodmin, actually managing to enjoy one of the most stressful and angst ridden of retail exercises for women - the purchase of a new swimsuit. She finds the perfect replacement for her destroyed Speedo - an almost identical racing-back Speedo. Not very original but definitely within her comfort zone.
She also considers the latest developments with Joe. What does one wear to a dinner and dancing date at a Mediterranean restaurant? For truly proper dancing, a woman should wear a dress or skirt, she decides, and hits the dress shoppes. Three stops later, she still hasn't found something appropriate that she would actually feel comfortable wearing, let alone dancing in. She's about to give up when she spots a second-hand clothing store on a side street and wanders in.
The place is a treasure trove of nostalgia, and browsing through the racks and shelves reminds Stirling of childhood rainy days spent exploring the huge attic of her Gran and Gramps' house in York. Many of the dresses are hilarious, harkening back to the 60s, 70s and 80s, but she manages to find a few that appeal to her.
The first is a halter dress from the 1950s, red with black polka dots and an amazing full skirt, complete with a sewn-in black crinoline. The second is a two-piece outfit with a full black skirt, also with a crinoline, this time white. The top is a moss green with short-sleeves and a low neckline but very loose collar with lots of material. The shirt cinches in tight at the waist, closing with four closely spaced buttons, and comes complete with a thin black belt and matching pillbox hat. The third is another halter dress, this time solid black with a full skirt and sewn-in red crinoline.
She's unsure which one to purchase since she loves them all. Some shrewd negotiation with the shoppe owner results in the three going home with her plus a pair of shoes that match all of the outfits.
As usual, packing her purchases on the Triumph prove to be the most challenging task of the day but she manages to accomplish what at first feels like the impossible. And for about the 100th time in her life, Stirling contemplates just how tacky and silly a small tag-a-long would look attached to the back of the Triumph as she roars home through the Cornwall countryside.
Old habits die hard and the next morning, she walks the cliff top trail alone, picking a small posy of wild flowers to place on Bucephalus' rock. That's how she thinks of it now - as his rock, his place.
Stirling ranges far in her travels, walking further than the small trail down to the isolated beach. The weather is beautiful, the sun warm, the breeze rather calm for the north coast of Cornwall.
A perfect day, she thinks, passing dozens of hikers going in the opposite direction.
She makes it almost as far as Polzeath before her grumbling stomach informs her it might be a good idea to turn around and start walking back. The trail is thick with fellow hikers as she travels toward Portwenn. The ones picnicking along the side of the trail drive her wild with hunger.
It's about 1 o'clock when she finally arrives back at the surgery, ravenous and dusty. She fixes herself some sandwiches and a bowl of soup, settling at the kitchen table to flip through the local newspaper as she eats.
She smiles at the photo and small article announcing Joe's return to duty in the village and his new title of sergeant. The write-up also advertises his upcoming award ceremony, scheduled for next Wednesday evening in Exeter. Stirling plans to attend along with the Chief, Louisa, Morwenna and Al. Several other people from the village are also planning on making the trip.
After lunch, she sits down at the piano to practice, entertaining people sitting in the waiting room for more than an hour. She begins with Beethoven's Fur Elise, moves on to Debussy's Claire de Lune, dabbles with some Schubert and Chopin before returning to Beethoven, one of her favourites, Piano Sonata No. 14 in C Sharp Minor. Her fingers fly over the keys, her eyes shut tight, blocking out all external stimuli, hearing and feeling only the music. When she finishes, she can hear applause from the waiting room, which makes her laugh. She stops laughing when she hears the unmistakable sound of the Chief clearing his throat in the kitchen. She looks over as he stirs his espresso, watching her.
"That was very good," he says, after a moment of silence.
"Thank you," she says, slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry if it's been loud."
"It's actually very relaxing," he says. "But I was wondering ... if you would play something for me."
Stirling stares at him in disbelief.
"A request?"
He's never asked her to play a particular song - ever.
"I guess you could call it that," he says with a slight frown. "I've always had a fondness for Beethoven, specifically Piano Sonata #8."
"Sonata Pathetique," says Stirling, with a slight smile. "I like that one, too."
She bends over the keys and begins the familiar song, once hijacked by a mezzo-soprano opera singer back in the early 1980s and used as the base melody for her chart-topping pop song. But Stirling doubts that's why the Chief enjoys hearing it.
He probably never listened to rock or pop music in his youth, she thinks as she plays, eventually putting everything but the music out of her mind.
When she finishes, she looks over to the kitchen where the Chief had been standing. He is gone.
Stirling is still thinking about Beethoven hours later as she soaks in the tub in preparation for her date with Joe. Ludwig has always been one of her favourite composers and Sonata Pathetique one of his pieces she most enjoys playing. She finds it interesting that the Chief enjoys him as well.
At 6 o'clock, she starts dressing for her night out - stockings, garters, matching panties and bra, and the two-piece outfit. She does her own hair, sweeping it up in a bun before pinning the pillbox hat on her head at a jaunty angle.
Louisa would be proud, she thinks, examining the effect in the mirror.
She looks at her arms and wonders: Should I wear the long gloves?
After digging them out of her top dresser drawer, she pulls the black pair up to her elbows and examines herself in the mirror. While they disguise her scars, the gloves feel restrictive, smothering. She pulls them off, looks at her arms again and sighs.
It's time to let go, she thinks as she stands in the loo, putting on her makeup. Forget about them, they're just marks on your skin.
What had Joe called them? Battle marks; signs of courage and survival.
Stirling hears a knock on the door downstairs. She looks herself over once more and rushes downstairs, unlocking the front door and opening it wide.
"I just have a few things ..." she manages to say before she goes silent, speechless.
Joe stands before her in a green dress shirt with black tie - a proper black tie, she notes - and a dark green suit jacket. He's also wearing a stunning pair of dark blue jean trousers and shiny dress shoes. He looks incredibly handsome.
In his hands he holds a bouquet of roses - pinks, whites and reds - well more than a dozen. They are stunning and smell wonderful.
"Wow," she finally manages to say. "Come in."
Joe enters the front hall and Stirling closes the door behind her.
"These are for you," he says almost formally, handing her the bouquet.
She smiles, admiring the beautiful blooms.
"Thank you," she says, blushing. She leans forward and kisses him on the cheek before turning and walking toward the kitchen. "I'll just put them in some water."
He follows her through the piano room and stops at the kitchen table, watching her take a vase from the top shelf of a cupboard and fill it with water and a teaspoon of sugar. She unwraps the flowers and arranges them in the vase, fluffing and fussing with the buds until they look perfect. She sets the filled vase in the centre of the kitchen table and looks up at Joe.
"They're beautiful," she says shyly.
She turns and locks the back door before grabbing her clutch purse.
"All set?" he asks, reaching for her hand.
He escorts Stirling out of the house and waits while she locks the surgery door behind her. Taking her arm again, he leads her to the Land Rover, opening the passenger door and helping her in. He closes the door behind her and walks around to the driver's side. He starts the engine and looks over at her, smiling.
"Are you going to sit way over there?" he asks. "I promise I don't bite; well, not too hard.
She laughs, slowly inching herself over on the seat until she is beside him. He reaches across her and clips the lap belt on the other side.
"You look beautiful," he says, kissing her right hand.
"So do you," she says. "You look very handsome, I mean."
He blushes.
"Thank you."
He puts the Land Rover in gear and backs it into a parking spot beside the surgery, quickly turning around and heading down the hill, through the village and out into the countryside, heading toward Bodmin.
"How have your first few days back to work been?" Stirling asks.
"Busy," he says, reaching for her right hand and holding on his left knee. "I've been correcting all the paperwork and filing mistakes PC Garrett managed to do during his six weeks in Portwenn. I've also been familiarizing myself with some of the changes around the village and the area."
Stirling smiles at the thought of PC Garrett, who is probably having a joyful reunion with his bird.
"There's a new family living at the Buchwald farm," Joe tells her, wondering how she'll react.
She looks at him, shocked at first, but calming as she thinks about the idea.
"That's good," she says. "The farm should be occupied. I hate to think of that beautiful view of the moor not being enjoyed."
Joe smiles.
"They have two little children, a boy and a girl, who will be starting at the primary school next term. She's a nurse at the hospital in Bodmin and he's a sheep farmer."
"The echo of children in the halls," Stirling says, smiling. "That's nice."
"I knew you would approve," Joe says with a laugh. "How have things been with you?"
She turns to him, her eyes dancing with excitement.
"I start back to work on Monday," she says.
He looks back at her, surprised.
"Already?"
"What do you mean already? I've been off almost two months. That's long enough. It's time to go back. I'm going to start with house calls for the first two days and then surgery visits for the rest of the week. It's opposite to the usual routine but we'll see how it works out."
Joe is quiet for a few moments.
"So it's your last weekend of freedom," he says. "We should celebrate."
"Isn't that what we're doing tonight?" she asks mischievously.
"No, tonight is an apology of sorts, an opportunity for me to reintroduce myself to the stunning young woman I love but hurt so callously."
Stirling blushes again, looking down at their interlocked hands.
They are silent for a few more minutes, each lost in their own thoughts.
"I have to work on Saturday," Joe finally says, breaking the silence. "But I'd like to spend the day with you on Sunday, explore the countryside with you, enjoy a beach or two, have some ice cream and pub grub."
Stirling laughs.
"It's a good thing I bought a new swimsuit."
Joe looks disappointed.
"You've replaced the bikini?"
"After the last reaction it received, I thought it would be best," she says, smiling at him. "Your day out sounds wonderful. Hopefully the weather will cooperate."
"It will," says Joe.
They are soon in Bodmin and Joe pulls up near a tapas restaurant not far from the downtown area.
He helps Stirling down from the Land Rover and escorts her inside.
They are quickly seated at an intimate corner booth where they can sit side-by-side. He pulls her to his side and kisses her gently.
"I've missed you," he says, looking into her eyes. "I'm sorry I left you the way I did on the beach. The way I acted, what I said, it was inexcusable."
She puts her finger to his lips gently.
"Shhh," she says quietly. "It's over, forgotten. I also behaved badly. I think we've both learned something about ourselves and how we feel for each other. No more apologies."
She kisses him but is interrupted by a quiet cough from beside their table. She looks up into the face of a smiling waitress.
"I'm sorry to intrude but I thought you might want to put in your drink order. The bar is very busy this evening."
Once their order of a pint of lager and a pitcher of ice water is taken, they turn to look at one another.
"Now where were we?" Joe asks with a smile, leaning in to kiss her.
Stirling feels a shiver run down her spine.
"Are you cold?" he asks.
"No," she says with a smile. "Just excited."
"That hungry, eh?"
"Yes," she says, laughing.
"Well, we better order then."
Ten minutes later, they're enjoying their meal and chatting about life and their families.
"How's Sam doing?" Stirling asks, dipping a chunk of bread in a delicious eggplant dish.
"Fairly well," Joe answers, spearing a shrimp with his fork. "He's been very busy with his job. But he mentioned the new weekend band at the Bristol Bobby pub just doesn't have the same spark you did. The regular's still talk about you wistfully and ask when you're coming back. He says they haven't quite figured out that being a doctor pays better than singing in a pub."
"Maybe I should go back and give them a farewell performance," she says.
"They'll probably never let you leave."
She's silent, chewing her food thoughtfully.
"Why did he not come down to visit you when you were in the hospital?" she asks. "Your mum didn't visit either. Why not?"
Joe's silent for a long time, playing with the food on his plate.
Stirling feels a sinking sensation in her stomach.
"I'm sorry," she says, touching his arm. "It's none of my business, really. You don't have to answer."
He looks up at her and smiles sadly.
"Yes, I do," he says softly. "This is part of being a couple, being honest about the parts of our lives we've both been keeping from one another. As I recall, your sister and family didn't come to visit you either."
She looks him in the eye as she nods her head.
"You're right. Do you want me to go first?"
"No, I will," he says, clearing his throat. "Sam wanted to visit and tried to get Mum to pick him up from the train station or drive to Bristol and get him. She wasn't interested. Sam's always been her favourite. When I became a police constable, it only made her more disappointed in me. She's never been enthusiastic about any of the choices I've made in my life: my career, where I live, my first wife, even my divorce."
He laughs.
"She hated Maggie when she met her and hated her even more when she left me. She's impossible to please."
"So, when Sam contacted her, she told him she wasn't interested in visiting me in the hospital. She told him the day I became a police constable was the day I signed my death certificate; she wasn't interested in seeing the end results. She sent me a card a few weeks later suggesting when I felt better, I could travel to Truro and visit with her."
"She lives in Truro?" Stirling says incredulously. "But that's where the hospital is. She could have easily visited. And Portwenn's only an hour away. Has she ever been to see you here?"
Joe shakes his head.
"Never. Sometimes she calls at Christmas or sends a card around my birthday. That's all."
"Anyway, Sam wasn't able to make it down but he's called me faithfully every week to find out how I was doing and how you were. He wants to come down for a visit soon but he's a bit embarrassed given his past activities in Portwenn. I'm hoping he'll come for a visit at Christmas."
Stirling is silent, processing the information Joe has shared with her.
"Did your mum at least attend your wedding?"
Joe laughs.
"Yes, she couldn't miss that opportunity to complain bitterly about everything from the ceremony to the catering to the venue. She was in her element."
He watches her for a moment as she taps her fork on the table, thinking.
"Your turn," he says softly.
She looks up and smiles sadly.
"I think I've mentioned to you before that my sister and I have very different personalities. She has always treated me like a baby, even when I grew up and no longer was one. And then she became my surrogate parent when I was 10. It was like my worst nightmare coming true. Not only were my parents gone forever, but they left my big sister in charge. And she ruled me with an iron fist. Naturally, I rebelled."
"It was Robert who saved me, who convinced Emily to let him handle me. And I blossomed under his freedom. She resented that. The closeness we shared, it wasn't the same between Robert and his own children, or even between the two of them. And it made her miserable."
"As I know you are very aware, I wasn't a stupid child. I could see what was happening, how my very presence was driving a wedge between my sister and Robert. So, I looked for a way out and found it in a national science competition. The day I won was the day my sister's marriage was saved."
Joe listens to her sadly, remembering the police report outlining Stirling's life growing up.
"It wasn't even close to showing the whole picture," he thought.
"With me out of the house, my sister's marriage flourished. But she still tried to keep me under her control. I loathed family visits. She was always at me, questioning me. She hated Michael and forbade me to see him. Her biggest fear was that I would grow up to be like her - pregnant at 19, married at 20, a mother of two by 22. The lectures were long and boring."
"Of course, I didn't grow up to be like Emily. But that didn't stop her from criticizing every choice I made - which medical school I attended, what speciality I pursued, my relationship with Spencer, the fact we lived together without being married. Of course, Spencer proved to be the one thing she was right about and while I was recovering from MERS, she never let me forget how she had seen through his charms. Visits from her were torturous."
"Flash forward to May. When I woke up in the hospital, it was already too late; the Chief and Louisa had already contacted Emily and Robert. I would have preferred they just didn't know, similar to Michael and Christopher. I know it wasn't the right thing to do or very nice of me to want keep them in the dark about what happened, but sometimes it's the best thing to do for all involved. But I didn't need to worry. Emily phoned me not long after I regained consciousness and told me they were too busy to make the trip down to Cornwall. I admit I was upset at first but it really did turn out for the best. And she did call me every week to see how I was doing. She still does."
Stirling looks at Joe and he looks at her.
"Well, it would appear we have something in common," he says quietly. "We're related to wankers."
She stares at him for a moment and laughs. She leans against him as she laughs harder, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning her head on his shoulder.
"Thank you," she whispers in his ear.
"For what?"
"I think we both needed to talk about that. I feel much better for sharing it with you."
"So do I," he says, kissing her cheek gently.
Later, as they're leaving the restaurant, Stirling turns to Joe.
"I thought there was going to be dancing?"
"There is," he says, leading her down the sidewalk to a club next door. Inside, the music is thumping and couples are spinning across the crowded dance floor.
"Oh my!" she says.
Joe leans in to her left ear.
"Ready to show them how it's done?"
She laughs and nods her head.
And together, they dance the night away.