The next day Martin met with his solicitor to discuss his father's estate. For a surgeon who'd been top in his profession his father had left little in the way of financial support for his wife. He had blown the bulk of his retirement investments on a new golf estate development in Portugal that had gone belly up. The investors had received only a few pennies in compensation for every pound that they'd invested in the now insolvent company.

Martin sat across from Alistair Brentwood and watched as he pressed a few buttons on his laptop and a spreadsheet appeared on a screen on his office wall. He was a tall man, almost as tall as Martin and just as immaculately dressed. Although they had been at the same school, he was a few years older and Martin had never really interacted much with him back then. It was only when he had dealings with his father Neville that they had become acquainted and after Neville's passing he'd become Martin's solicitor.

Alistair had a studious, retiring demeanour which belied a sharp and analytical mind. His voice was soft but precise as he began to run through the accountant's forensic report on his father's financial affairs. Martin was taken aback at the vast amount of money Christopher Ellingham had invested in the Golf Estate development - reckless was a word that sprang to mind. What was he thinking? Well clearly he hadn't been thinking at all. The bottom line was not pretty. His mother would not be destitute but the Dorchester would never be within her means again. In fact hotels of any kind would be a luxury. Her lifestyle would change from one of affluence to one of having to consider every penny and every expense in order to come out on her monthly income - just like most other pensioners had to. There would be no domestic help, no visits to beauty salons, no travel and definitely no private health care.

Martin turned his attention back to Alistair who waited for him to say something. Behind him on the wall was a portrait of his late father, Neville Brentwood who had been Henry Ellingham's solicitor. Father and son looked so alike it was uncanny.

When Martin didn't speak, Alistair went on, "We strongly advise that Mrs Ellingham sell the penthouse in Lisbon. She will realise quite a substantial amount from the sale which, if it is invested wisely, will give her an additional income on which to sustain herself. Of course she would have to purchase a more modest accommodation from that money - but it is the only viable solution."

Martin considered the reality of the situation. Any other person would be able to make a go of it on the monthly income his mother would receive from the investment as laid out by Alistair, but they were not talking about any other person. This was his mother. Her lifestyle would be severely curtailed and Martin knew she would not be happy about it. He could almost feel the storm brewing already and he knew somehow that he would bear the brunt of it.

He thought about her situation. What should his role be in her predicament? Should he help her financially - with a lump sum or a monthly amount? Should he buy her a property in England? At least she would have the benefit of receiving medical care under the National Health Services. But then he remembered her disdain at having to stay at a hotel other than the Dorchester and he realised that nothing he could provide would ever be good enough for her. And the NHS would be so far beneath her as the wife of an imminent surgeon even though the services were of the highest quality.

"Alistair, what if I made the dividends from one of my investments payable to my mother - keeping the capital in tact of course."

Alistair thought for a moment, "That could work Martin - but strictly speaking you shouldn't have to do that. Your mother will have a viable amount coming in every month from what's left of your father's estate if she sells the Lisbon property. She will have a comfortable lifestyle but certainly not the one she has been used to."

The face of Neville Brentwood looked down as if to say, "This is not your problem Martin." The distinguished looking man had passed away some years before but Martin remembered him with fondness. Neville had taken him under his protection and had firmly guided him through the very difficult time after his grandfather's death and his father's subsequent bullying. He sighed. His own investments were substantial. He didn't live an extravagant lifestyle. His needs were simple and his hobbies weren't excessive. There were some of his colleagues whose hobbies required ridiculous amounts of money to pursue - one was a power boat enthusiast and another collected vintage motor cars. His clocks were more a labour of love, as he didn't actually own them. He gave of his time not money. His hi-fi equipment had cost a bit when he'd first bought it because he'd wanted good quality sound but it wasn't an ongoing expense. The only other indulgence was the occasional trip abroad which he hadn't done in years because of his workload and the research unit. When he travelled he liked the best accommodation and the best flights but other than that, he explored on his own.

The legacy from his grandfather had given him a good start. It had paid for his medical education and had enabled him to buy property but the capital was still largely intact. Logically he could put that money to good use to alleviate his mother's situation but he could never insult his grandfather's memory by diverting any of those funds to his mother. Henry Ellingham had treated Margaret with the bare minimum amount of civility. There had been no love lost between the two of them. He had recognised her for what she was: a cold, calculating and ambitious woman whose sole purpose in life was looking after herself.

Martin looked across the desk, "Alistair - have a look at one of my investments - just not my grandfather's - and see what you can come up with by way of supplementing my mother's income. It would have to be a monthly amount, not annual. My mother is clearly not good with money so an annual amount wouldn't last."

Alistair nodded and agreed to draw up some figures. They chatted briefly about Martin's other investments and then Martin brought up his upcoming marriage to Kate. Alistair's face broke into a smile and he got up and shook Martin's hand. "Congratulations Martin. Very happy for you. When is the big day?"

"The first Saturday in February. Umm...I would like it if you could be there - but it will be down in Cornwall so it might not…"

"I would be delighted Martin. Let me know the details and Cecilia and I will be there." He paused. "May I know her name?"

"Who?"

"Your bride to be." Alistair smiled expectantly.

"Her name is Kate Rushton." Alistair noticed how Martin's face softened when he said it. He couldn't be happier for the man. Alistair mentioned the matter of a marriage contract and outlined what it entailed. He would draw something up and they could meet to discuss the details in a few weeks.

When Martin left Alistair's office he thought about his mother again. He knew he would have to tell Kate about this, after all she was going to be his wife and he didn't want to have any secrets from her. She was not going to be happy judging by the way she'd talked about his mother in the past. She was protective of him and she wouldn't like it one bit. For him it was more to soothe his own conscience than an act of philanthropy. It would keep his mother at a distance, keep her from complaining and contacting him. Or he hoped so in any case.

Thinking of his mother made his thoughts turn to the list Francis had asked him to make. He frowned. All the incidents that spontaneously sprang to mind were unpleasant. He didn't really want to recall any of them. It was like pushing open the door to a darkened room full of malevolent ghosts. He sneered at himself. Psychobabble claptrap! But he couldn't refuse to do it. As a surgeon, if he told someone to follow a regime so that they could be healthy again and they refused, he would give them a piece of his mind or tell them to find another surgeon. He wouldn't expect Francis to be any different, so he would have to suspend his scepticism of the process and do as she asked - God help him.

Over the next few days Martin wrote the list in the silence of his rooms after his consultations were over. It was difficult and when he was done he felt unsettled. He felt a strange sadness for Martin the child as if he were seeing another little boy and not himself. The boy who'd had to face the world on his own. He only realised as he wrote, just how alone that boy had been and his fear seemed to radiate from the page.

ooooOOOOoooo

Martin had just finished evening rounds and was heading back to his rooms with the habitual post-rounds scowl on his face. He'd just shut the door to his consulting room when his mobile rang. He took it from his inside pocket and answered with an abrupt, "Ellingham."

"Mart...it's Chris. How are you mate?"

"Umm...I'm fine…thanks."

Chris chuckled. "Well you're more than fine from what I hear. I thought I'd call and offer my congratulations. Fine friend you are for not letting me know you're getting married."

Martin cleared his throat, "Yes...well...I was going to…"

"I'm sure you were and you'll get the chance to bring me up to speed sooner than you think. I'm in your neck of the woods attending some meetings. Perhaps we could meet for an early supper? How does Friday evening suit you?"

"Ahh...yes...fine...that should be fine."

"I'm looking forward to meeting the woman who's captured your heart mate." Martin could picture Chris's open friendly face. Chris was the only person in his entire life who had persistently ignored his prickly and abrasive manner and had, for some unfathomable reason of his own, wanted to be friends with him. Chris had ignored his rudeness and had seen past the gruff exterior. He'd defended him when others had belittled him, either to his face or behind his back. Chris had been more streetwise and would say his piece in no uncertain terms when other students took advantage of him. They weren't in each other's pockets and didn't speak all that regularly but they kept in touch and, every now and then, Chris and his wife Helen would insist that he meet them for lunch or dinner whenever they were in London. His wife was just like him: open and forthright and totally accepting of Martin. As he disconnected the call he found that he was actually looking forward to introducing Kate to the Parsons. Besides Simon, they were the closest he would ever get to having friends and he knew they would love her.

ooooOOOOoooo

Martin stood at the basins in the scrub room running his arms under the stream of water gushing from the tap. He had two procedures for that day and the first was already lying prepped and ready for him in the theatre. He heard footsteps and turned to see Kate walk in. She smiled and came to stand next to him at the basins and began to scrub up.

He felt her eyes on him and turned to look down at her. "Do you know how sexy you are Mr Ellingham?" she murmured so softly he could hardly hear her.

Martin twisted around to make sure they were alone then he grunted and bumped the tap lever off with his elbow and leaned over to pull some paper towels from the dispenser. His eyes were soft as he bent close to her and murmured, "So are you." Kate's face lit up. She never tired of his soft, velvety voice. She leaned over him to pull some paper towels from the dispenser and dried her hands slowly as she stared into his beautiful grey eyes. In them she could see his love and she smiled in a way that told him she liked what she saw.

He gave a little cough, "We have to be at the restaurant to meet the Parsons at 6.30 - do you have to go home first?"

"No - I brought a suitable change of clothes with me. We can leave straight from here if you like?"

"Yes."

Just then the scrub nurse walked in to assist Martin with his gloves and gown but his eyes never left Kate as she finished up at the basins. The nurse was aware of the vibe between the two and smiled inwardly. Mr Ellingham had certainly changed a lot since he'd formed the relationship with Kate. He hardly shouted at anyone these days - especially when Kate was around. When she was near his eyes were soft and she could tell that the man adored her. What a change. She'd heard they were getting married soon. It just went to prove that everyone had someone out there who could love them and whom they could love. She sighed and finished knotting the ties behind the tall man's back. If this grumpy, seemingly miserable man could find someone who gave him such happiness and love then one day she could find such a person too.

Kate looked up and smiled into Martin's eyes. She made him feel loved and wanted and he knew he would do anything to make her happy. Anything. And even though he was not looking forward to his next session with Francis because all the old wounds would be scratched open again, he would go for as long as it took so that he could come to a place where he need never push Kate away again.

ooooOOOOoooo