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 and a quote here and there.
*Dear Readers, it's been a while and for that I am sorry. With my new job there are no longer any free hours in the day it seems, but I've missed these characters and will try to do better. Thanks again for the reviews, they are always appreciated, and happy reading. Another follow-up chapter to this one should follow shortly. -DC
Time Travel
Chapter Thirty Seven – "Plans"
The answer phone's red lamp is blinking incessantly on this Saturday morning, rivalled only by the usual handful of ruddy faces and their glassy bloodshot sclerae.
Another busy night at the pub. . .
So much for my planned few hours of surgery before joining Louisa and our now extended family at the farm. Morwenna's timing yesterday had been impeccable as usual, her predictable stupidity and poor decision-making skills resulting in my single-handedly managing the surgery on a busy weekend.
As a matter of fact; this entire village revolves around predictable stupidity, poor decisions and my ability to contain the inevitable outcome of its moronic denizens' actions.
Or lack thereof.
I recognise the first burley figure coming my way this morning as a rather unpleasant retired farmer. Louisa once described him as her father's most outspoken adversary and self-appointed 'village spokesman', as far as Mr. Glasson's affairs are concerned. Having sold his family's long held land to property developers about two decades ago, he is far from a well-liked figure in his own right, or so I have been informed, and by the scowls emanating from the commoners in my reception that is likely a fair assumption – a vulture amongst gulls.
He is also a raging alcoholic who is drinking his fortune faster than the plots can split and as such this is both repeat behaviour and a repeat consultation. I predict it is going to be a long day.
"Mr. . . . um, go through."
" – Kestle, Wilburn Kestle. President of the Liberal Club and chosen spokesperson for the Snooker and Billiard Room's affairs. As you know we're havin' our tourney today yonder and you've got to fix me up for it Doc. My boy's our star billiards player you see and I need to be steady as a rock when I hand'im over the prize money."
With a trembling arm he points in the general direction of Louisa's school and the club across the street as he loudly closes the consulting room door behind him.
" – Oh, and a good night was it Doc?"
The man is ogling me with a sly grin while excessively rubbing the side of his chin and I feel a sense of dread rising along with the temperature of my facial dermis.
"Lipstick, Doc, right'ere – bright red as you are. Say it's true then, that you've got part in 'nother Glasson comin' to our village, eh?"
For a brief second I contemplate how Mr. Kestrel could have learned of Helen, only to realise he must instead have perused the blasted school paper containing Louisa's pregnancy announcement.
"What can I do for you Mr. Kestrel?"
"Kestle, and my arm 'ere needs steadyin' afore the billiards, my family's honour's at stake."
". . . .I very much doubt it."
" – As is yours, Doc. Gettin' a Glasson up the duff on accident once . . . well can't fault a chap for that, they're like that the lot of 'em. But lousy excuse for a repeat, now innit?"
" – I beg your pardon!"
"Not my pardon you'll be beggin' for, but that's none of my business I reckon."
"No, it isn't! When did you last have a drink, Mr. Kestrel? And be specific."
"It's Kest–"
" – Last drink?"
This moron illustrates perfectly why I do not want Louisa or James about the surgery during patient hours and why as such I'd found it necessary to chase her from my consulting room earlier this morning. . . .
"Now, Doc, I was just sayin'–"
"–LAST DRINK!"
"Right you are. Not since last night, dryin' up for the billiards like I said. Been plannin' it for a year you see, I'm really behind the eight ball on this one, so to speak. Can't you give me a few more of them pills you scripted afore? You know, just to keep me goin' till celebratin' my boy at the pub after, if you catch my drift."
"I don't. And I won't."
Idiot.
"From previous experience you should recall that you are suffering from mild acute alcohol withdrawal, which symptoms only prolonged treatment, in conjunction with abstinence, may alleviate. We discussed your options at length the first time you came to see me and you clearly expressed that you were not interested in this treatment option after completing only one day. Have you now come to a different conclusion?"
"Now look, Doc. I just need a few of them pills to carry me through the day is all, like afore. Then I'll be right as rain."
I carry out my usual physical exam as he prattles on, as is my duty.
"No. Your heart rate is stable, you are not hallucinating and you have just informed me you will be partaking before the day is over. That should take care of your symptoms until such time that you are willing to make the required commitment. Would your son be willing to help you were you to try again?"
"My Billy? Naw, reckon' the ole' Crab would be shutting up shop if not for the pair of us, can't do that to the village now can we?"
Timewaster . . .
"So a script then, Doc?"
"No."
"But Doc . . . without them pills my day'll well be snookered, all my plannin' for naught."
"Rubbish excuse for a repeat, isn't it Mr. Kestrel?"
More like a vulture indeed. . .
" – NEXT PATIENT!"
XXX
After our rather lovely romantic adventures in the wee hours I'd been quite upset with Martin for snapping at me when I'd poked my head into the surgery just a bit ago. I'd only meant to ask him for the ice packs he'd requested for Morwenna, but I reckon' what he's really unhappy with is holding surgery this morning without Morwenna, and not me.
Least I hope it's it. . . change of plans and all that.
"Your Daddy hasn't realised just how much he's come to rely on the women in his life, now has he James, hmm?"
Speaking of; Helen, James and I are driving on up to Morwenna's house visiting for a bit, and clearing the air of any sisterly misunderstandings, before heading to Bert's for lunch to after to squash the village gossip down flat. And with Al still tied up at the farm with Ruth and Uncle G I'd felt fairly certain we'd not be interrupting Morwenna's privacy this morning.
I'd phoned her all the same explaining I'd be popping in with the packs for her bum ankle. Good job she'll be hopping 'round on one foot really or she'll likely run Helen down once she learns of the big picture, though I she still might try. . . .
As we make our way through the village in Helen's car, I'm becoming a bit nostalgic.
"I like your car, Helen, it's very neat . . . and a good size for 'round the village. What sort is it?"
"Peugeot 308."
"Right. I had a little Ford once you know, kind of . . . miss it actually."
"Then why the past tense?"
Helen near runs Mrs. Tishell down whilst rounding corner by the fish monger's heading for the platt and James and I secretly study the chemist's look of horror from our hiding spots in the back seat of my sister's car.
The complications of driving in the village.
"Oh you know. . .
"I don't. You need a car Louisa."
"Well, I needed the money at the time, so –"
" – But now you need a car and have the money, so what's the problem? Martin?" Helen gives me that disapproving stare she seems to so naturally have perfected.
"Let me guess; you haven't said anything to him?"
"Well, yes – I mean, no. Not in so many words, but – "
"But WHAT, Louisa?"
"I don't need it, just want one, miss it. . . and where would I go, or park? I – "
" – Same place you are going to 'park' this child, Louisa, there's no room at the cottage you know. And you've got to plan for it, the space is not miraculously going to appear just because you want it to – or need it."
She's right 'course, but I have yet to discuss this future 'problem' with Martin . . . he likely won't be keen on leaving the surgery.
As Helen squeezes on through past the big red Newcross house, and points her brown car into the parking pad below it, I can't help but wonder 'bout Morwenna's future plans. Poor old Mr. Newcross' pension could do little but patch up a shingle or two and since her granddad's passing Morwenna doesn't have the funds to mend any of it neither . . . though she's been taking on extra work with us and with Ruth when possible. Still . . . she's got to be struggling. Maybe I'll speak to Martin 'bout giving her a raise. Yes, I think I will do – clearly he can't manage without her and once the Isch joins us. . . well, we'll be relying on her to sort the surgery even more then I reckon.
"So?"
Helen isn't going to let me off the hook this time 'round it seems.
"Hmm . . . ?"
"Oh don't be obtuse, Louisa. You, Martin, James, the baby – what are you going to do?"
"Oh I don't know Helen . . . I'm sure we'll think of something."
"You're sure, are you?"
She gathers up her key or . . . that fob thingy I reckon, and pushes the button that shuts the car off. I realise I miss that motion, silly as it is.
"Will you get James out of his seat for me, Helen? And I'll just grab the ice packs and pop my head on through the back door, let Morwenna know that I'm . . . that we're . . . well – you know, get her ankle seen to."
Which may also keep Morwenna seated, rather than unseating Helen . . . wishful thinking I reckon.
"MORWENNER?"
" – Gimme a minute Mrs. E, be right down. Just hopped on up for a wee is all."
"Oh right I see, well don't hurry on my account!"
" – Yeah, well . . . fat chance of that happenin', now innit?"
And I'm counting on it, though this isn't exactly going to plan. Helen and James will be here any second now. Speaking of . . .
"Alright, Louisa, what's your plan exactly? I'd like to know my part in it."
"Uhm, well I . . . I haven't got one, exactly – a plan that is."
"I see. Where is she then, this receptionist?"
James is squirming to get down and my sister lowers him onto the sitting room carpet.
"Her name is Morwenner, Helen, and she's . . . well, she's upstairs in the loo."
I nod to the stairs, just as I hear the sound of flushing from above, and catch Helen looking all around the space.
"Mm. Large house, fits right in with the village standard. But far too much space for one person, wouldn't you say Louisa?"
"I suppose . . . but she lived her with her granddad, not on her own, so it's not like –."
" – So you've said. But he is dead now, is he not? Unfortunate that, rather a waste. Seems a suitable house for a growing family."
My sister's got such a way with words, good thing I became the teacher.
"Helen! Surely you can't be thinking . . ."
"Why the hell not? A win-win for all involved and a solution to a pressing problem, Louisa. The time has come to be practical, wouldn't you say?"
My sister can be so thoughtless at times, then again . . . why haven't I thought of it? It's not that far-fetched, not really. And it could be a good thing for Morwenna, couldn't it?
"Really, Helen, must you be so . . . so– "
"–Practical? If I'd been blessed with a bedside manner, Louisa, I'd have become a nurse."
"–HELEN!"
With that, the unmistakable thump on a wooden floor comes to a sudden halt as Morwenna appears on the landing, teetering precariously on one foot and clinging to the top of the bannister. She's looking at us wide-eyed while speaking in wonder.
"Helen, who? I . . . what, who . . . Mrs. E?"
She glances to the both of us, then James . . . then me. As my sister speaks up Morwenna looks to her once again.
"Yes – Helen. Helen Glasson Morton, to be precise, and I believe you may have reached the wrong conclusion yesterday, which might have upset my sister and . . . unsettled others. For that I apologise."
"Your sister? You're sisters . . . Mrs. E, you've a sister? You never said? Well I'll say it's clear as day now, you do look it you know. So that's what Doc was on about yesterday, clever ain't he!"
Martin, had he talked to her 'bout it already?
"What . . . exactly did Martin say Morwenner?"
"He was takin' me home after surgery, in the Lexus. You know, with my bum ankle and all. And, well . . . he told me I might be seein' double soon."
Truth distorted, but truth none the less. That's my Martin. So that's why he was late for our dinner. . . .
"Told'im straight up I couldn't put up with two of'im, but that's not what he meant, now was it? Doc was talkin' bout the two of you, must've been!"
She hops on down the rest of the way looking to Helen as James makes a beeline for her, intercepting and nearly knocking her to the floor. Seeing James she suddenly looks to me with a wicked grin.
"And you're PREGNANT, Mrs. E, Doc told me himself. That's brill news, didn't think you two had it in you. Good one that – well done!"
And there's that wicked look from my sister again.
With that Helen comes to my rescue commandeering Morwenna to a chair, roughly jamming a pillow under her ankle and stacking the ice packs I'd left on the counter on top of her leg haphazardly.
"There, you'll get over it. It's just a sprained ankle, nothing major. Anything else?"
Morwenna looks a bit taken aback, understandably.
"Oh . . . uhm, no I –"
The NHS was spared. . . .
"Good, Louisa and I must be off. And you should consider the benefits of selling this house to Dr. Ellingham and my sister. They are looking to upsize, obviously, and the cottage should be better suited for you as well I would think."
"–Helen, not now!"
"No time like the present, wouldn't you agree . . . Morwen?"
" –na. Well see, 'thing is Mrs. M, I've been –"
" –Just think on it, alright, for Louisa's sake? Good, bye then."
With that my sister grabs James and heads on out to fetch her car, case closed.
Morwenna looks every bit as confused a I'm feeling myself right this minute.
"Um . . .well, Morwenner, there you have it and I better . . . you know, pop on out! My sister is a bit, um, direct – challenging in her ways. Sound like someone we know? We'll talk more on this later, right? So we're good then, yeah?"
"Yeah, we're good and . . . Mrs. E?"
"Mm?"
"I'm happy for you . . . and this would be a brill home for you and the Doc and the wee ones – I'd be honoured, really, as would've Granddad."
She looks like she really means, and might even have thought it over some before now, it and it is a conversation I need to have with Martin, so having some actual plans to serve up alongside may just sort it.
" – And I'm happy you've got your sister now, someone to talk to, I always wanted one. . . . you know – family. She's also right you know, your sister, 'bout this house. Us Newcross lot have made a good fit of it 'ere all them years, seems it oughta be you lot's turn – neutral ground and all, eh?"
I nod at Morwenna as I make my way outside where Helen's already got James in his seat and the car pulled up waiting on me. As I open the little gate for the street, I hear Morwenna calling out from inside.
" – AND I REALLY WANNA HELP, YOU KNOW! YOU AND THE DOC ARE THE CLOSEST TO A FAMILY I'VE GOT SO THINK ON IT, YEAH?"
And thinking on it I am, now I just need to cue my dear Doctor in on these plans before Helen does. . . .
Challenge accepted.
XXX