Record

The characters, places and situations of Doc Martin, are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.

Thank you for reading and reviews are much appreciated.

Chris Parsons stood by my elbow instructing Martin. "Look, Mart, just take it easy, and this will all be over soon."

Martin wrinkled his nose at the surroundings. The Village Hall had been equipped with rows of chairs and two long tables at the front, not that different from his final interview for the GP post, or the gymnasium where I was examined for the Portwenn head teacher. Martin walked up the center aisle and looked like he was eating a dead seagull.

"I've been telling him that, Chris," I said, having just come back from the toilet. I went over and slipped my hand into Martin's but it lay cold and dead in my hand like a codfish.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Chris, who are the, uhmm," I nodded at the chairs at the front, "examiners?"

"Oh, yes. We have Dr. Dorothy Graves up from Falmouth, she's written a number of articles on diagnostic practices, Dr. Jaime Smythe from Penzance, as well as Dr. Timothy Waters from the PCT staff. There will also be Mr. Lyons from the PCT legal group plus his assistant."

"Legal?" I replied.

"Louisa, this is a legal proceeding," Martin answered. "What about… Dr. Montgomery?"

Chris shook his head. "We deposed her last week, as she would be unavailable."

"Maybe that's good," I said and squeezed Martin's hand. "Bit awkward. But just why is she unavailable today? I'd have thought she want to be here in person to stick the knife in."

"Louisa!" Martin blurted out. "Don't."

"Only fair, Martin. It's your right, to see her; hear from her own mouth the nasty lie she's been spreading."

Martin and Chris gave each other heavy stares then Martin spoke. "Chris reviewed her written statement with me already, Louisa."

"And you didn't tell me?" I bristled.

"I didn't want you to worry."

I sighed. "She's been trying to do everything she can to hurt you, Martin."

Martin stood like a statue for a moment. "This will soon be over."

I looked around the room. "Why so many chairs and why have it here?"

Chris answered me. "There are others who will be heard today. Certain members of the community have an interest."

"Damn," muttered Martin but his hand clutched mine. "Preparing the tar and feathers no doubt."

Chris shouted before I could. "Mart! Calm down!"

I brushed a bit of fluff from Martin's suit coat. As usually he was perfectly attired; this time in a soft gray suit, no pattern, with a brilliant white shirt and polished black shoes, and his teal tie was perfectly tied in a Windsor knot. I looked him up and down approvingly. "You do like to look the part, you know."

"Something wrong with my suit?" he asked with a sneer.

"Not at all."

"Then what are you doing?"

The door opened and five people came in. Chris rapidly introduced one and all. The solicitor was the easiest to identify, based on his nose in the air, while his aid was a young kid probably still at Uni.

The male doctors seemed bored by the proceedings, but Dorothy Graves inspected me with piercing blue eyes in a lined face. She was about sixty-five, I'd guess, tall and slender, and she wore a shiny mauve dress with a black jacket. "And you must be Louisa Glasson," she said to me. "Parsons has told me about you."

"Oh? What did Chris say?" I was wearing light gray maternity trousers and the largest maternity top I had as I seemed to be swelling at an alarming rate. It was a nice blouse, white with little roses embroidered around the square neck, and I noticed that Martin seemed to approve of my choice as I dressed that morning.

But he tried to have me stay away from the hearing. "You don't need to come," Martin told me.

"Why would I stay away?"

He muttered something I didn't catch. "What?"

"Fine," he said, so there I was.

Dr. Graves laughed. "Only that you've been trying to civilize Ellingham is all and Chris told me you were beautiful."

I chuckled back. "If you think about it Martin likely thinkshe is the most civilized person in all of Cornwall. And thank you, but I don't feel very pretty at the moment. Just fat."

"When are you due love?"

"Three weeks, about."

Dr. Graves smiled. "Hang in there," she said but then looked hard at Martin. "Ellingham."

"Graves," he sniffed. "Any more trichinosis?"

"You two know one another?" I said.

Dr. Graves smiled. "I had a rather odd patient with odder symptoms and Parsons suggested I call Martin." She smiled. "Got it in one try, I believe."

Martin almost smiled at her. "It's what happens when you have a farmer that does not eat pork, yet contracts the disease from his own infected cattle, through surplus meal that he bought from a pig farmer. If you'd ordered tests on a simple stool sample…"

"Yes," Chris interrupted him. "You two can talk about faeces until the cows come home, later. Let's have the examiners, sit there at the tables, and Mart if you'd please have a seat just here?" He pointed to the chair set all alone in front of the tables.

Martin's face had an expression of rigid disgust but he sat, unbuttoning his suit coat and smoothing any wrinkles away. He shot his cuffs and crossed his arms. "Can we get this over with?"

I gave him an encouraging look which he ignored, of course. "Where, shall I…?"

Chris took my elbow. "Louisa, why don't you have this seat behind Martin?"

I sat demurely, if that was possible when looking like a puffed-up white balloon. I smiled at the examiners, and only Dr. Graves returned it. Smythe was left of center, next to Graves, with Waters as the obvious head honcho, and the solicitor to the right. His assistant, introduced only as Keifer, opened a laptop and put a microphone on the table. "Ready," he said.

Chris Parsons sat between Lyons and Waters with an apologetic expression. He nodded to Dr. Waters who nodded back.

Dr. Waters sniffed. "For the record, this is an examination into a complaint that has been lodged, Dr. Ellingham, by Dr. Edith Montgomery in a matter of a dereliction of care in your consulting room."

Martin shook his head minutely but didn't say anything.

Waters went on, his pince-nez bobbing on his red nose, under a shock of white curly hair. His complexion reminded me of Joan Norton, and his accent was London posh. "Now, Dr. Ellingham, this is not a trial, merely one of an examination. We will ask you questions, and we expect truthful answers. Nothing less than the truth is expected here."

"Why would I lie?" asked Martin and I winced at his icy tone.

"No, no!" I whispered.

Waters cleared his throat. "I assume that Miss Glasson is your…"

"Fiancée," Martin said.

Waters harrumphed. At me. "Yes… Miss Glasson, please don't interrupt. I shall allow you to stay and observe only."

I nodded. "Sorry." Dr. Smythe yawned but Dorothy showed concern for me.

She butted in. "For goodness, sake, Tim! No need to be so damn stuffy."

Waters laughed. "Fine then. Ellingham - did you do anything wrong?"

In the silence you could have heard a pin drop. It stretched for a half-minute or more and I was reaching out to nudge Martin into action, when the door crashed open behind us and a horde of people flooded in chatting and blabbing.

Bert was leading a pack that included Al, Pauline Lamb, Penhale, a straggly gaggle of fisherman, the grocer, baker, and the garage man, along with old Mr. Albert; about twenty in all. Even Carrie Wilson was in the scrum, cleavage prominently exposed, with Mrs. Tishell standing at the door timidly.

Martin bellowed at them. "Get out!"

Bert Large pulled off his wooly cap and twisted it. "Doc - we came - well we came… Uhmm, did we miss anything?"

"Perfect," Martin muttered but I heard him. "Bloody village idiots!"