Chapter 53

Finally alone in the lift, I relaxed slightly.

"So, is there anyone else you'd like to see before we leave?" I asked casually.

"What do you mean?" Martin didn't seem to understand what I was aiming at.

"Some old colleagues you'd like to say 'hello' to?"

"Why?"

"Do you always need a reason to meet someone?"

"This is a hospital, not a club. People come here to work, not to socialise." Martin informed me.

So much for that. Before I could answer, the lift stopped and a couple entered.

I decided not to start a discussion with Martin in front of complete strangers. You'd never know when you'd step into a minefield talking to Martin.

Soon we'd found ourselves in the main entrance area again. Martin headed towards the door when I stopped him, putting my hand on his sleeve. He looked at me quizzically.

"You're sure you don't want to visit someone? I wouldn't mind." I paused and added. "If you don't like me coming with you, I can wait here in the café. No problem."

"Why are you insisting that I am supposed to visit someone?" Martin retorted more than a tad enervated.

"So if I wouldn't have been with you, you also wouldn't have seen anyone here? No one at all?" I asked again, not believing you could have worked in a place for several years and after years of absence, there was not a single soul you wanted to meet.

"Why!" Martin asked vehemently and I could see growing irritation in his eyes.

"Sorry, just assumed…" I mumbled. "It's just…"

"Just…what?!" Martin grew more and more impatient and I couldn't quite make out why.

"It's just, if I'd visited my old school, there'd be a couple of former colleagues I'd like to see. Just to say hello and see how they were doing. And," I added, remembering Martin's comment from before, "we also came to school to work."

"I don't." Martin simply informed me, rather tight-lipped. "Can we go to the station now?"

So we got back into the old fashioned black London taxi still waiting for us in front of the hospital. Clambering in I mused how much more comfortable London taxis were compared to usual cars, especially when you're in the company of a rather tall person. Martin would have struggled with leg space in most cars, but even he could sit quite comfortably here.

Martin gave his instructions to the driver and fell into his well familiar silence again.

After a while I exhaled loudly, unintentionally gaining Martin's attention.

As he was looking at me, I felt obliged to say something.

"Well, I suppose he wasn't a favourite of yours, this Mr. Griffin."

"Hm. Not particularly. Why?"

"It's just, the way he treated you was just a tad insulting, don't you think?" I probed Martin, who just cocked his head in response. "I mean, he was practically running you down, making me understand you're not good company."

"Hm." Martin looked down at his hands sheepishly. "He does have a point though."

"None that I could see." I replied testily, but before I could make my point, Martin continued.

"I'm…I'm really not…" Martin's voice trailed off, then he sighed. "And maybe 'Hamlet' wasn't the best of choices."

"I enjoyed it. I really did." I could say honestly now. "It made me think, about families, duties and such. So in that respect it was really good."

"Hm. Not exactly what you'd like to do on a day out…thinking about families." Martin mumbled.

"I meant every word I said in there. I enjoyed the evening and I enjoyed the company." I emphasised my point, but I could see the sceptical look on Martin's face. I leaned forwards to speak more lowly. "Martin, don't listen to him. It doesn't matter what he says. Besides, what makes him think he'd be better company?"

"He had quite a reputation for being quite good with women. He also likes women working under him. It's commonly known at St. Thomas'."

I cocked my head and tried to gauge Martin's intention saying this. I wasn't sure if he had meant some double entendre in his choice of words, but he seemed serious.

"It may be he likes to think of himself that way." I added.

Martin shook his head. "No, it was commonly known, Griffin and his ways with women. Even I couldn't help hearing about it. Actually, it was a bit of a scandal the way he wooed the patient's daughter. He almost was in a pickle, but somehow he got himself out of it."

"Marrying didn't stop him from chatting up other women." I stated bluntly.

"What makes you think that?" Martin asked me completely innocently. Hadn't he noticed it at all?

Looking at Martin, I realised that this was one thing I liked about Martin. He had preserved such innocence when it came to everything sexual. From everything he said, from everything I've seen it seemed for him to be unthinkable that one could be involved with another woman when married.

I tried to remember the last time I had been so innocent about matters of the flesh.

It had probably ended when I'd been thirteen. I was on my way home one evening having visited a friend when a drunken fisherman had chatted me up in front of the pub. He had said things I didn't quite understand at that time, partly because his speech had been slurred, partly he used words I hadn't heard before.

When I passed him, he grabbed me by the arm and tried to draw me closer. I shouted and kicked and tried to free myself from him. I especially remember his smell of cheap alcohol. I knew that smell and whenever dad smelled like that, trouble wasn't far away.

I know now that things could have gone seriously wrong, if it hadn't been for some friendly intervention.

"Oi. Leave that gal alone, now will ya!" It was Bert who had come to my rescue. Still a bit fitter back then, albeit being of an imposing stature even then, he had grabbed the man's arm and twisted it until he had let me go. I jumped back to bring some distance between us.

"Will, you'd better go home. Had a bit too much to drink, dontcha think? Or would you want anyone behaving like that towards your Lizzie?"

Elisabeth had been a year or two younger than me. A mousy, timid creature that was lurking on the school yard.

"I'd break his neck, that bloody bastard!" He shouted, throwing his fists into the air, fighting an imagined opponent.

"Bloody bastard, that's right. So go home and sleep it off."

Good old Bert. For Martin he was an overweight busybody, undisciplined, lazy, and a nuisance in general. Martin was probably right. Bert was all of that, but he was a good sort. Something Martin would never see.

Bert had taken me by the hand and had brought me home. I had asked Bert about the words my attacker had used and which I didn't know. Bert didn't answer.

Dad wasn't in, but Bert kept waiting until he got home. I was sent to bed immediately and I suppose he had a word with him.

Mum had left us long ago at that time.

Anyway, a couple of days later Joan dropped by, bringing some homemade biscuits. She often came around stocking up our supplies.

However, this time she had sat me down, with a hot chocolate and some of her biscuits, and had a serious talk with me.

Now I was sharing a taxi with her nephew. I looked at Martin and wondered if he ever had a serious talk with Joan as well over these matters, or with anyone else, or if his medical books had been his sex ed.

I looked at Martin, silently sitting opposite me. He looked decidedly glum after our conversation.

I smiled. There was something about him, something about his impeccable attire, something about his aloofness that made me wish to seduce him. I'd never had a wish that strong with any other man I've ever been with, but again, those men had the same thought in their heads long before I was able to jump on the wagon.

If Martin had thoughts like this, he hid them very well.

I knew the signs of men making advances. I had my share of that. I knew the lust in their eyes. I knew the smirk, and I realised when they were looking at parts of my anatomy that weren't gentlemanly to stare at. I knew their feeble jokes, trying desperately to be funny.

I'd seen all of these signs with that horrid Dr. Griffin.

As long as I'd known Martin, I'd never seen any of it in him.

When he talked to me, he looked into my eyes, not at the other parts of my anatomy. His eyes were soft and gentle, without any signs of possessiveness. He didn't try feeble jokes - or jokes in general - which took me a bit to get used to, but was still better than some blokes who thought that lines bordering on sexism could be a turn-on.

What I felt with Martin was respect.

Still, I hoped that a bit of lustful fire was lurking beneath the still waters, otherwise I'd be wasting my time.

That's why I kept thinking about shaking his orderly little world and widening his horizons.

In hiding behind the suit he made me curious about what was beneath. He was always pristine and proper, which made me imagine loosening his tie, unbuttoning his shirt and doing my best to dishevel that short hair of his.

Maybe it was weird that his formality attracted me, still I was just wishing to turn it upside down. However, what I was aiming at with Martin couldn't be done in formal attire.

During the whole taxi ride to Paddington, Martin was even more taciturn than usual, it seemed, to me. Maybe he was worried about what Dr. Griffin had said. I wondered how I could make him understand that Griffin's artificial charm wasn't every woman's dream.

To be continued…