Chapter 53
Months later.
Martin was sitting in his hotel room. He tried to analyse his feelings. He could hardly understand himself, why he felt the way he did. Was there any logical explanation? No. If you looked at it in the cold light of reason, there was no logical explanation whatsoever. But the light of reason was dimming. Fact was, he had to force himself to sit quietly even for a couple of minutes. When he didn't pay attention to his behaviour, he would again pace the room up and down. That didn't help either.
He thought back a couple of years when he had been in similar circumstances, but had acted and felt so completely different. There would have been no chance today that he could have held surgery even for an hour, and definitely not until one-and-a-half hours before that fateful moment. Now he even had to get through an entire night and hadn't the slightest idea how. He had been acting really odd back then. Not even all the catastrophes that were occurring trying to ruin the day for him had made him nervous. He had felt worried, but was always able to function properly. He even managed to solve all the problems that were thrown in his way with relative ease, just to tumble at the last hurdle.
He couldn't keep his own doubts in check.
Martin stood up again and paced the room once more, wringing his hands, going over to the drawer to check if the box was still there. He had held it in his hands dozens of times during the day, making sure that he hadn't forgotten it at Aunty Joan's farm.
Back then he had far more reason to be nervous. But he hadn't been. Maybe he should have been and it would have turned out alright. Maybe not. His life would have changed completely the last time. This time everything was relatively settled. Just a formality, really. But he couldn't get the lump out of his stomach. He hadn't even eaten anything today as the thought alone made him retch.
His best man had patiently stayed with him until about half an hour ago. He had smiled at Martin's impatience. He had been glad to see him like this. He had been a huge moral support and in making him talk about the future Mrs. Ellingham he had even succeeded to set Martin's mind at ease. Now Martin was alone and the thoughts were racing into all directions.
He couldn't believe the loneliness he felt. Louisa had insisted that they should stay at separate accommodations for the last three nights before the wedding, as she wanted to do the preparations without Martin seeing everything. He couldn't see why. He knew she would look stunning. She always did. So why the mystery? Louisa hadn't given in, so he stayed at his aunt's farm for two nights, before driving down to the stately home which had been turned into a hotel and where the wedding would take place. For one night, each of them had a single room, before they would spend three days – and nights – in the honeymoon suite.
No one in Portwenn knew that they were about to be married, so when Martin had moved to Aunty Joan's farm malicious rumours were spread that Louisa had thrown him out. He had been given far too many triumphant looks by the village folk. Only Roger Fenn and Al Large had come to him with the offer to talk things through and maybe put things right. Maybe there was still hope. He simply brushed them aside by telling them "Time will tell." He hoped he knew what the future had in store. He would have to talk to them after their return, as he had been deeply moved by their efforts. It felt good to have someone on your side.
Louisa's experiences during those days had been different. Some of the parents and staff even had congratulated her that she finally had come to her senses. She had told them to 'Get lost'. Martin would never understand why Louisa always got away with it. They all just assumed that 'the poor thing' was too upset. Only Mrs. Tishell had insulted her for dumping the poor Doc. The pharmacist had been genuinely puzzled when Louisa had just smiled at her.
Louisa had come down to the farm every day, so that he could spend some time with her and Peter. It simply wasn't enough. He couldn't sleep during the night. The bed was too empty. He tried to imagine how he could have managed for so many years. After all, he had slept on his own for almost all of his life, almost five decades – almost half a century. It was only barely a year that he had the privilege to share the bed with the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He must have managed to sleep during all those years. But how? He didn't know where to put his arms, as he couldn't wrap them around a warm body. He missed the weight of a head resting on his chest. It felt so empty.
They had gone down to the hotel on their own and wouldn't meet until the ceremony. Aunty Joan and his best man were in constant contact to make sure they didn't bump into each other by accident. The ceremony would take place tomorrow at three p.m. He didn't know how to survive.
His best man had been a huge help during the day. He would also be a good support in getting ready for the big moment. Looking down at his shaking hands, Martin wasn't even sure if he'd be able to dress himself properly. He was a nervous wreck.
When Louisa and Martin started to discuss the wedding, Martin immediately had someone in mind to be his best man. He asked Louisa if it would be alright to ask him. Louisa in her usual carefree way assured him that asking for a favour never hurt anyone. There was always the possibility of them turning it down. So he had sent an email to Dr. Whitby to ask him if he would act as his best man. The cost of transport and a long weekend at the venue would certainly be paid for.
Since Martin had left London they had emailed each other regularly. Even when they didn't discuss problems, it gave Martin a feeling of security. Besides, he had come to appreciate Whitby. He was the closest thing to a friend that Martin had ever had. He didn't like the thought of not knowing at all what he was doing. When Martin had announced that he was going to quit at the Imperial, only Whitby knew the real reason. He was sad to see Martin go, but glad at the same time that Martin had found a place to go home to.
When Whitby had received the request he didn't have to think twice. He gladly accepted. He was so glad that there was a happy ending for Martin.
Whitby had come down by train and Martin had picked him up on his way to the hotel. After Whitby had checked in, he had joined Martin in his room to give him some much needed moral support. Whitby had been glad when he discovered that there were no doubts in Martin's mind whatsoever. He also had no doubt that his beloved Louisa would show up. So Martin wasn't worried, but just nervous. Whitby had just excused himself to go to the restaurant. He was hungry after the journey, but Martin was sure he couldn't stomach anything at all.
When Whitby came back after an exquisite meal, he found Martin still pacing up and down the room.
"Stop being so nervous, everything will be alright."
"I know. What time is it?"
"Shortly past nine."
"You're sure? Nothing wrong with your watch? It was already nine when I last had a look."
"You still have a few hours to kill. Anything you want to do? Sort of a stag night?"
Martin gave him an angry look. "Don't be funny."
"You have to get your mind off your wedding. There is nothing you can do right now?"
"That's exactly what's bothering me. Maybe I'll call Louisa?" He tried to grab his mobile, but Whitby stopped him.
"From what I understand she wants you to be separated for the night before the wedding. Just accept that."
"Nights."
"What."
"Nights. Three nights."
"What are three nights with the prospect of spending a life together? At your silver wedding you'll be probably glad to get away for some nights."
"Doubt it." Martin slumped down on the chair, checking again if the box with the wedding ring was still in the drawer and if the ring was still in it. Then he got up again.
Whitby watched with a smile. "So how is she? I'm really curious to meet her tomorrow. Strange to meet someone for the first time at her wedding."
Martin sat down, wringing his hands, eyes glowing when he started to praise her and painting their life together in the brightest colours. Suddenly he jumped up again, running his hand through his hair, exclaiming: "Bloody hell, never felt worse. My bloody nerves."
"Really? I've seen you worse. Actually, I'm quite happy to see you like this, Ellingham."
Martin stopped in his motions, turned towards Whitby. The night that brought them together came to his mind. "Martin."
"What?"
"Call me Martin." Actually, it was the first time he ever offered to someone to call him by his Christian name. Many did, because in this country it was an unnerving habit. Except for Joan and Louisa, he never liked anyone to call him by his first name.
"Thanks, Martin. I'm Benjamin." A quick smile between the two sealed it.
"Benjamin, were you also so bloody nervous before your wedding?"
"It was bad. Maybe not quite as bad, but I think that's how it should be."
"I wasn't nervous before our first attempt to get married."
"And look how it ended. Take it as a good sign."
"The worst thing is that there is logically no reason. I'm so sure that nothing will go wrong. I can't wait to tie the knot, and I'm certain that Louisa will turn up. So why am I so bloody nervous?" He had sat down during the conversation, but jumped up again. Whitby watched with a smile.
"Tomorrow it will be over. Concentrate on that."
"But time passes so bloody slowly!" He looked at his watch. "There must be something wrong with this wretched thing!"
Martin sat down on his bed, running his hands nervously over the sheets.
"You miss her?"
"Isn't it silly? I mean, I slept on my own for almost 50 years. When I left boarding school I had sworn to myself never to share a bedroom with anyone ever again. And now, after barely a year with Louisa, with just six months living together, really, I can't imagine being on my own again. I simply can't sleep when I don't feel her. Isn't it absurd?"
"It makes perfect sense. You love her."
Martin sighed. "She brings out something in me I never knew existed. Emotions I heard about during the lectures on psychological diseases and conditions. Symptoms brought up by emotions running wild. I always thought it was nonsense. I never thought anyone could make me feel that I would rather die than be away from her. Not even for one bloody night." He hit the mattress with his hand and jumped up again.
Whitby stayed with his friend until twoish. Then he excused himself. He had to get some sleep. He knew that he would leave Martin to a sleepless night on his own. Whitby assumed that another sleepless night would follow. But this time he didn't feel sorry for Martin. He was thoroughly glad. Furthermore, he was proud of what Martin had achieved since they knew each other. It was a transformation, as if a different person was standing there. A far happier, more human person. Someone with a future, not just the burdens of the past. A future he couldn't await to commence.
Whitby would have a short night, too, as he had promised to join Martin for breakfast at the earliest possible time around seven.
Whitby entered the breakfast room right on time. One wreck of a man was already sitting at one of the tables. All the other tables were still empty.
"Did you sleep at all last night?"
Martin shook his head.
"You look like it. And here's some good advice – shave before the ceremony starts."
"I thought about going to the salon they have here." Martin held his hand into the air. It shook visibly. "I don't trust myself using the blade. After all, I want to be able to show up."
Whitby laughed. "Good idea. It wouldn't be appropriate to make her a widow before she's even married." Martin glowered at him. Before he could say something nasty, the waiter turned up.
"Cooked or continental?"
"Oh, full cooked for me." Whitby declared. "What do you have?" The waiter listed several delicious items, but Martin cringed just hearing their name.
"Eggs poached, two rashers of bacon, sausage, tomatoes, beans and mushrooms. Brown toast. Tea." Whitby gave his order. The waiter turned towards Martin.
"And you, Sir?"
"Coffee, black."
"Come on, Martin. You have to eat something. We don't want you to pass out due to low blood sugar?"
"Toast, white."
"That'll be all?" The waiter asked.
"Yes."
Whitby patted Martin's hand. "Just eight more hours to go. No more lonely nights from now on!"
Martin looked over nervously. His impatience had subsided. He didn't feel the urge anymore to pace every room at length. He was far too worn out for it.
"Judging by the last eight hours, it will be a very long time!"
"Well, today you have at least a couple of hours to spend for preparation. Gives you something to do. Keeps you from measuring every room over and over again."
"I wonder how she's doing?"
"You'll find out at the ceremony. Try to keep it off your mind. It doesn't help."
"I bloody can't. The worst is that I have thoughts I find most inappropriate."
"Oh, you think what will happen after the wedding."
"I always thought I wasn't one of those dirty old men. I have my doubts now."
"Nothing dirty about it. It's the only reason to get married, really. To sleep with the same woman for the rest of your life."
"There's more to it, as you well know."
"The rest is just part of the bargain. In old times the only reason they got married so early was because extramarital relationships were forbidden. So if a woman wanted to have some fun she had to loose her virginity in a lawful state. What she did afterwards was pretty much her own business. Before DNA-tests were possible, it was difficult to prove that someone was the definite father. Except of course he copies himself during the reproduction as you have."
"Meaning?"
"Remember, you showed me some photos of your son. You don't need a DNA-test."
"Right. I see."
Whitby started a lecture on different wedding rites and views of the matrimonial state and how they altered during the centuries. Martin was neither interested in Ancient Greek habits of being introduced to the art of love by other men – disgusting, no wonder the culture was doomed to be extinct – nor in cultures where the status of a man was counted in the amount of wives he had. Martin just wished to be married to this one woman, and then never have to go through a day like this ever again. Thankfully Whitby's lecture was cut short by the arrival of the breakfast. A huge plate filled with all different kinds of treats for Whitby and a rather sad and lonely looking piece of toast for Martin. Martin looked over with disgust as Whitby tucked away his breakfast. As soon as Martin had managed to get the toast down he addressed his friend.
"Do you mind if I wait for you outside? Just seeing this…" He distorted his face in disgust.
"You're sure? I may be some time. I won't hurry. We have all the time in the world."
"Outside." And Martin walked off.
Whitby didn't hurry. He enjoyed his breakfast to the full. He just had some yoghurt with fruits hovering on his spoon, when his mobile beeped. Joan had sent an SMS to enquire if it was safe to have breakfast. Whitby answered that 15 minutes more would be great, then he walked out to look for Ellingham. He was nowhere to be seen. He asked several of the staff, far more busy now as the breakfast room was well filled. Obviously Martin had waited there until a couple of minutes ago and then had dashed off. Whitby looked around and suddenly Martin re-appeared from the gents, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.
"Don't tell me your breakfast is gone already."
"Bloody hell. I feel awful."
"You look like it. We have plenty of time. Why don't you go back to your room and rest?"
"I know every square inch there, and I doubt it would be much different now."
"Let's see. Go ahead."
Martin walked off to the room. Whitby contacted Joan about the time Louisa had her appointment with the hairdresser, and then he ordered a fennel tea. He carried it to Martin's room.
"Look, it's only 8:30. If you start to get ready at noon that'll leave you with plenty of time. I fixed an appointment for your shave at 12 sharp. Now drink this."
"What's that?"
"Fennel tea. Helps with a nervous stomach."
"I know that."
"Sure. Sorry. So drink that and then have a rest. I don't want to sound discouraging, but you look awful."
Martin looked worried and weary towards Whitby. "We'll make an odd couple. The beauty and the beast."
"Well, unless you rest now. There's nothing wrong with you that three hours sleep can't fix."
Martin drank the tea. It really had a relaxing effect. Then he laid down and even managed two hours of sleep. As soon as Whitby knocked carefully at the door, Martin sat upright in bed.
"Come in."
"Ah. Looking better already. When that stubble's off, you're almost presentable."
Whitby accompanied Martin to the salon for a little trim and a shave. Whitby had a bit of small talk with the staff and mentioned that his friend was about to be married this afternoon.
"That's interesting. We had a lovely lady here this morning who was also preparing for her wedding. Gorgeous dark hair."
Martin gulped and grew more nervous yet again. Whitby kept on talking.
"That sounds like her."
"So he's the groom?" The hairdresser looked doubtfully at that miserable old git sitting in the chair.
"Anything wrong with that?" Snapped Martin. "I hope you're finished. Haven't got all day."
Whitby smiled. Ellingham's social skills still left some room for improvement.
Soon Martin was ready and paid. Whitby tried to reassure him that he looked ready for the part now. Just get dressed and ready to go. So Whitby disappeared into his room to get dressed. Martin went into the single room for the last time to make himself presentable.
Louisa and he had agreed that as it was a rather posh venue, they would try to dress to the part. So Martin had bought himself a cut, complete with grey top hat. The last two hours of his life as a bachelor had begun.
When Whitby, also in a cut he had used on many similar occasions before, knocked on the door, Martin was struggling with his Ascot tie. The sleeves of the shirt still open.
A rather enervated voice ordered Whitby in.
"Relax. Take your time. You have still more than an hour-and-a-half to go."
"And that's what I will need with this bloody… Hard to believe that these clumsy hands belong to a surgeon. If I had always worked like this, I should have opened a sideline as an undertaker." Martin was in despair now, throwing the offending garment onto the dressing table. He held onto the table with both hands and stretched against it. He tried to concentrate on his breathing. After a while he turned his head towards Whitby, still leaning against the dressing table. "This is going to be the longest hour of my whole damned life. I don't know why anyone wants to get married."
Whitby put his hand on Martin's shoulder and squeezed it. "Not everyone is taking it as seriously as you do. Try to look forward to it. Don't just dread the moment."
"Don't you think I've tried? And I am looking forwards to it. I can't wait to put this ring onto Louisa's finger – if I succeed in doing so, that is. At the moment I'm stuck with the cuff links and the tie." Martin looked over to the table where the offending articles innocently lay.
"May I help you?"
"I should have learned how to dress myself by now, but we don't have all day." Martin sat down on the edge of the bed, while Whitby gathered the tie. Slowly he walked over. He tried to appear as calm and relaxed as possible, hoping that some of it would rub off on Martin.
Martin looked up at Whitby while he draped the tie around his neck. Then he put the tie pin on. Martin stretched out his hands, so that his friend could put in the cuff links. His hands were shaking visibly and Martin looked at them with a sorry sigh.
"Just look at that. Have you ever seen someone in such a sorry state?"
"I sure have and I've seen worse. At least I can risk the prognosis that your tremors will subside within the next – " Whitby had a look at the clock, which showed that it was about a quarter to two " – two hours. So no need to worry."
"I really wanted to be at my best today so that Louisa can remember this day fondly. But I can't even get that right, it seems."
"Come on, get up. Put your coat and top hat on and let me inspect you." Martin did as he was told. Once the picture was complete he looked simply dashing. Whitby whistled. "Wow! I attended quite a few weddings, but I guess today will be the one with the most elegant couple I ever visited."
"Don't be ridiculous." Martin growled, putting his hat down again. Before he had the chance to sit down, Whitby stopped him.
"I'm serious. I mean, I just know your bride from a couple of photos, but she seems to be stunning."
"I wasn't worried about her."
"Maybe you didn't look at you properly. Come here and bend down a bit. I'll arrange that hat properly for you." Hesitantly Martin walked over. Whitby placed the hat once again on his head, brushing his hair a bit with his hands to match it with the top hat. He straightened the tie and, to Martins surprise, put a buttonhole into his lapel. Then he gave the suit a quick brush.
"Now stand straight and try to look a bit less scared."
Again, Martin did as he had been told. "Come on, Martin! A bit less stern. It should be the happiest day of your life!"
"Then I don't want to live through my most miserable one."
"I guess you have, and you mastered that perfectly well. I am really astonished at what you have achieved in such a short time. You certainly will survive this day. And now, if you can, just be a bit less glum."
Martin took a deep breath, straightened up and decided to try to imagine how Louisa might look like. Sure enough it brought a little smile onto his lips.
"That's it – look at the mirror and then tell me you don't look good and I'll show you a liar."
"Just hope that Louisa will think so, too. After all, it's not you whom I want to marry."
"Well, fifty minutes to go. The countdown of your freedom."
"Rather the last minutes of my loneliness. I was far too long on my own to appreciate it."
To be continued…
