Martin sat across from her and was aware he kept staring. He kept stealing glimpses of her, and to mask his tendency to do so, he'd immediately reached for his napkin to put it on his lap. Louisa broke the conversation first, leaning across the table to speak softly.
"Ahh, did you have a nice holiday, a Happy Christmas?" Louisa asked nervously. She looked around the restaurant and turned her attention back to Martin. He reached for the water that had already been placed at his seat, noticing Louisa had orange juice and tea.
"Umm, I suppose, ahh, yes," he nodded. "Auntie Joan made dinner. You?" Martin looked to her, his eyes searching hers. She looked tired; he really wanted to talk to her about her medical care, but he had gone through this in his head. Louisa HATED it when he jumped to medical topics. He was really, really trying to avoid that topic and focus on whatever she wanted to discuss.
"It was ahh, good," Louisa said, nodding to herself as she played with her napkin in her lap. Martin waited for her to make eye contact, but she didn't look at him. The waiter appeared, interrupting them. Martin was surprised that Louisa had not offered up more information. While he was perfectly fine with an answer like that, he knew her and knew she liked to talk.
"Louisa," Martin gestured for her to offer up her order.
Martin listened as she ordered a very traditional breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and she asked for extra tomato with it. He remembered she liked to eat the tomato with her eggs, something he didn't particularly enjoy. He wasn't a big fan of scrambled eggs; when he ate eggs, he preferred his boiled.
"I'll have boiled eggs and soldiers," he told the waiter. He finished, "Could I get an espresso, please?" The waiter nodded, and he left. The silence settled on the table. Martin, trying to remember the list he'd written out of table conversations, started in on one item. He had done some preparation for this meeting. Just as he prepared for a big meeting or interview, he'd done the same last night, thinking about topics of conversation they could cover. He was really trying.
"How is your school?" Martin asked. He looked to Louisa, who was sipping her juice. Her eyes widened, surprised at the choice in topics.
She cleared her throat, "It's different," she said, nodding as she told him. "Very different."
"How so, I mean, aside from the fact these students live in London, and your former students lived in Cornwall. What is so different? They all need to learn," he said, almost in a snippy fashion. Immediately, he saw her expression change, and he knew that it wasn't a good reaction. He changed course, "I don't understand, honestly. Is it that different?"
"Yes," she nodded, sipping again. "It's very different. I mean, try to remember back to your school days if you can. Of course, this isn't boarding school, but it's very different. The parents are different, demanding. Many of the children, well, their parents believe they can do no wrong. I suppose it's hard too because I came in not knowing anyone or any of the families. In Portwenn, I knew everyone, all the families and all the situations. My school here is very posh, with families to reflect it. It's not my style. I'm teaching a lot of well," she squirmed, "children of solicitors, doctors, businessmen, some of the types of people who generally think they are entitled." She briefly met his gaze, and her eyes darted away.
"Right," he said, nodding as he tried to process it. "So, the material, what you teach, that is not different?" Martin had heard her comments about the types of parents and was letting that go. He knew that on some level, she was right about families of different classes.
"No," she sighed, a little frustrated at how he wasn't really understanding. "The material isn't that different, Martin. I'm mostly teaching math, and of course, I'm not the head, not that I'm complaining," she stated, raising her hand in defense. "Holly really helped me out locating this job."
"Holly?" Martin asked, the questioning look on his face. He looked to Louisa.
"Holly, Martin! You know Holly!" She was looking at Martin, still seeing a blank expression. She continued, "Holly, her back went out on her, that bloody concert, that whole mess."
"Right," he sighed, looking down at his lap. "Holly," he repeated, grunting her name. "Sorry," he looked back at her and continued, "I thought her name was Caroline."
Louisa looked to him, almost horrified, wondering how he had messed up the name so badly. She finally registered, "I do have a friend, Caroline, back in the village, Caroline on the radio."
"Yes," he said quietly, nodding as he looked away. He grumbled, "Names are not of interest to me."
Louisa sat up, taken aback, "You remembered my name right away."
Martin looked to her, pure honesty on his face, "I wanted to remember your name."
Louisa sighed, her eyes trying to meet his. He stared at her, not sure what he was doing wrong. She shook her head, "Perhaps this was all a mistake."
"You wanted to discuss things, unfinished business," Martin pointed out to her. "You called me Louisa."
"Yes, I know," she said, mildly irritated as she nodded. "I do need to talk; we need to talk. I'm not sure this whole thing," she gestured around them, "was such a good idea. There's a reason we went our separate ways."
"I'm still in your village, Louisa. You left to come here, to my former home," he pointed out. "About that, about the well," he turned red and gestured with his hand in the air, "wedding disaster."
"Yes?" Louisa sat up with some interest.
"I believe we have some unfinished business related to that," he said to her, dropping his head slightly to meet her gaze. "I'd like to discuss a few things."
"Martin," Louisa dropped her head into her hands, now resting on the table. She sighed loudly, "I'm sorry, but if this is about the money, about covering the costs of everything-Bert's food, the flowers, all of it-I know I need to pay you half. I just don't have that kind of cash now." Martin titled his head and looked to her, surprised she had jumped to that. She continued, "I know I need to pay you back for everything. If you are okay with it, I'll just send what I can when I can. You know I will."
"Louisa," he said, firmly, but also in a gentle tone, waiting for her to look at him. He nodded toward her, "This is nothing to do about the money for everything. It's all paid. I haven't given that a second thought."
Louisa sat back, taken aback, and she crossed her arms now, a complete contrast to how she'd just been sitting, "Not about the money? Martin, the wedding, all of the decorations, flowers, food, well, that cost a good bit."
"It's fine," he shook his head. "I mean, that wasn't a fine moment," he rolled his eyes. "Louisa, I know we hadn't really discussed money matters, one of many problems we had," he sighed, "but money isn't an issue."
"Hmm, must be nice," she muttered and looked down. They were interrupted as the waiter returned with their food.
"Ahh, thank you," Martin nodded when the food had been served. He eyed Louisa, who was looking down at her plate. So far, there had not been much discussion.
"Martin!" Louisa's head snapped up, as did Martin's, and both looked to the group being seated. Martin's jaw dropped, and he turned in his seat.
"Martin, Louisa, well, surprised to see the two of you here."
"Chris, what on earth are you doing here?" Martin asked, shocked to see his old friend, Chris Parsons, here in London.
"Mart, come on, this is the best place for breakfast. You know as well as I do, all those years ago back to med school," he gestured. "I'm always up in London after Christmas, my wife's family," he nodded to the table, where Martin's eyes traveled. He nodded to Chris' wife, and Martin could see Chris' kids and in laws at the table as well. Thankfully, the entire group had not stopped at the table to greet Martin and Louisa. He gave a slight nod and shifted his eyes as he looked directly at Martin, "I think of all the people I would have bet on seeing here, you would be the last of them."
"Err, yes, ahh, well," Martin stammered.
"Chris," Louisa interjected and continued with a polite smile, "nice to see you." She looked up at him, a nervous expression on her face, "We are meeting to discuss some unfinished business."
"Ahh, yes," Chris said, giving her a sad smile. He turned back to Martin, "You argued with me about closing the surgery for the holidays."
"Unnecessary, to close, I mean. I have a duty of care, but it's closed as you requested," Martin shook his head. "I still think it is unnecessary. However, the break did give me time to come here and meet with Louisa," he said, nodding to her.
"I'll let you get to it then," Chris nodded toward them both. He gave a nod toward Martin along with a quizzical look. Martin stared back at him, not giving any sign of the nature of his breakfast. Louisa could not easily watch him walk away, for their group was sitting several tables behind them, but she looked to Martin terrified.
"I didn't expect we'd run into anyone here!" She almost hissed.
Martin turned his attention to her, "No," he frowned. "I did not either. It's bad enough in the village."
"Yes!" Louisa exclaimed, now frazzled. "I'm sorry. I like Chris, but the last thing I want to do is discuss private matters with Chris Parsons and family several tables away."
Martin put down his fork and looked to her, "We really haven't discussed much. I have tried to engage you in conversation, and I still don't know what this is all about."
"This is just not a good idea," Louisa said, shaking her head. She looked to her plate and reached to grab her bag.
"You're leaving?" Martin asked, now shocked at the state of things. "Louisa, you haven't even touched your food, and I'm sorry about Chris, but that's not my doing."
"Look, Martin," Louisa said, looking to him and sighing. "I just can't dig into our personal lives here. I'm sorry, and about my breakfast, well, I've lost my appetite. Perhaps," she said, pulling out bills to pay for her food, "we should just walk away for good this time."
"Louisa," Martin said, waiting for her to look at him. When she didn't, he said it again, this time firmer, "Louisa, stop, please." She looked up, and he shook his head, "Put your money away. I'm still wondering what this is all about. I came all the way here."
"For that, I'm sorry," she said. Louisa stood and looked down at him sitting there, totally shocked. She gripped his wrist, "I'm sorry, Martin. This just was not a good idea. I'll be off."
Martin turned and watched her leave the restaurant, staring at her until she was out of sight. He really didn't know what had just transpired. When he turned back to the table, dumbfounded, he found Chris back there again, standing behind Louisa's chair, a somber expression on his face.
"Martin, I'm sorry. I feel like whatever happened," he gestured to Louisa and paused.
Martin shook his head, "I have no idea, no idea whatsoever what happened. She wanted to meet. I came up here, and we were just starting our discussion."
Chris pulled at the chair to sit, "Martin, I should thank you for sparing me somewhat from a dull breakfast with my in laws. While I am here," he said, giving his old friend a small smile, "let's talk, shall we? We used to discuss women back in our medical school days, and I think we should again now, yours not mine."