Chapter 55 – Boy and Man

The long suffering medical people arrived at the resort, scooped up mother and baby, and tucking the father under their wing departed. I stood there stupidly holding a 100 euro note that Alf had pressed into my hand.

Louisa plucked the bill from my hand and held it up to a room light, which had miraculously just come on. "Looks alright to me. You don't; suppose Catalao was in to funny money do you?"

I surveyed the wreckage of the bed and room, where the planet had just accepted another passenger. "Probably not."

Louisa looked around. "A bit better than a pub."

I could only nod so Louisa took my hand as she yawned. "What time is it?"

My wrist watch which showed 1:30. "Middle of the night." We walked to the door and closed it behind us. "You were crying." The rain had stopped and the clouds were blowing off.

"Yes I was."

"Why? Not like you've never seen a baby born."

"Oh Martin." She squeezed my arm. "Because. Just because."

I knew better than to delve into the female, and a mum's psyche, just at that moment and kept my lips sealed.

"No snarky comments about female hormones; any of that?" she chuckled.

"Females cry more than males. That has been my observation."

"You may be right, but you should see my school. At times my boys can be quite… well, less than stoic."

"True. But as boys get older, the rational brain becomes more refined and…"

She cut me off. "Reserved? Aloof? Reticent? Or just afraid to show emotion."

"Social traditions of Western cultures assume that too much emotional response is a sign of weakness in the male of the species."

"Ah, yes. But when you were a boy? Did you?"

A phantom spot on my right shoulder began to throb, the target of too many punches from my tormentors at boarding school. "Did I what?" It was obvious what she was asking, but I ignored the question.

"You know. Cry? Sorry, I'm prying." She bit her lip and looked away nervously.

I sighed. "What do you think?"

"Tonight, you were a stick of rock – and I don't mean the candy. I mean the honest to goodness rock - granite. The hard stuff - straight through. You're a good man to have handy." She kissed my cheek. "And I don't care about all that when you were a boy. It's the man I care about."

"Good to hear," I muttered and squeezed her hand. "Now you are making an assumption, Louisa. I wasn't that, uhm, strong, as a boy, I was…"

Cool fingers touched my lips. "No. Stop. I don't care. But I am so proud of you. My God you could have blown up at any moment this whole trip but you didn't. The medical emergencies, the panics, my own – ahem, needs – you never complained; not really. I was worried you know."

I sensed that she was not saying she was disappointed; quite the opposite. "Worried."

"Yeah, I was. But not now. I'm quite proud of you, you know."

I guided her to our door and opened it. "Home away from home, eh?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Well so much for sleep." She crossed to her case and stuffed fallen items back into it.

"We weren't exactly… sleeping … when Alf came banging on our door."

She smiled brilliantly. "I remember." A strand of hair straggled down her face which she brushed away. "I do."

Her look made me feel like I was on fire and in spite of my fatigue, unbelievably felt certain physiological functions started to be affected such as pulse, blood pressure, the sensation of certain organs, and my mouth felt dry. "I do too."

She sighed. "So what do we do now?"

"Clean up, pack; wait for the dawn."

Louisa brushed at her hair with raked fingers. "Don't know about you but I could do with a wash up."

"Right."

Louisa picked up her lacy nightgown from the floor where it had been flung in our passions. She yawned and rubbed my shoulder in passing, raising her face to kiss me. "Good old Doc Martin. Stick of rock that you are."

I watched her waltz to the loo, pausing in the doorway. "Martin?" she asked.

"Yes?" I sighed wondering what I would have to do next, thinking of the mess made of carefully packed clothing as I wondered if I had any suitable clothing for the flight home, a stay in London, and an hours long train trip to Portwenn. I looked up to see Louisa bite at her lip. "What's wrong?"

She flashed the awesome smile at me again. "Nothing."

She ducked inside and I heard water running as I bent to sort out my case. I began to fold my wrinkled clothing. All was well, until I heard a scream from the bathroom.

"Louisa?" I yelled as I rushed in her aide. Louisa was stripped down to her underthings and was perched on the toilet seat, mouth agape, pointing to the counter surface. "What the devil?"

"It's a… a…" she gasped, "A bug!" Little screeches uttered from her lips and those keened forth in a rising pitch.

The offending insect was multi-legged, one of the Blattella germanica, known as the German cockroach. The creature skittered back and forth under the light as I tried to corral the thing with a wad of loo tissue.

"Martin! Don't squish the poor thing! Catch it and let it go!"

"It's vermin, Louisa! You want me to release it? It's not a bloody pet, is it?"

"Just… just… do it!" She had by now clutched a towel to her chest and was hopping from foot to foot. "Please?!"

I ducked my head. "Anything for milady." I touched a non-existent cap and managed to scoop the insect into a tissue cone, then flung it out the window. I banged the panes closed. "There."

Louisa looked about warily then started hiccupping. "Sorry, Martin. Hic, hic!" She gulped and wiped an eye. "I get hiccups… hic… hic!"

"Try holding your breath." I washed my hands then helped Louisa down from the toilet lid. Her hiccupping slowed and with a few gulps vanished into the night. "Better?"

"Yeah. A lot better." Louisa touched my arm. "Sorry about the… uhm… bug."

"Common cockroach. Well known in subtropical climes."

Louisa crouched down and surveyed the floor. "Ugh, I hate those things."

"Seems to be gone."

"But…" she threw her arms about me. "You're still here."

"Where else might I be?"

"Oh, London or the Isle of White; God knows."

"But I'm not in any of those places, am I?" I returned her hug. "I'm… here, for you."

Louisa beamed up at me. "And James."

"Of course."

"You know there was a day that Peter Cronk asked me if I loved you."

"What did you tell the boy?"

"I didn't."

"You didn't."

She kissed me soundly.

"I'm a bit confused, you know," I told her.

"Oh, Martin. I know… me too."

I stared down at her, her face shining in the bright lights. "I thought you were going to wash."

"Yes. Yes, I was - I am." She kissed me deliciously. "More fun together, right?"

I could only nod as her strong arms swept me into her embrace.