A word of apology for the lengthy delay in posting another chapter of the story. The fault is entirely mine, the Accidental half of the Accidental Muck duo. So sorry and hope you enjoy the chapter - Lord Muck will not keep you waiting too long for the next one, I am sure!
Soft yellow light spilled from the leaded windows of the hall, illuminating the narrow path at the side of the building as Eleanor made her way toward the entrance. A few people were already leaving, hastily pulling hoods up over their heads and tightening scarves under their chins. It was freezing but Eleanor hardly felt it now that the tonic had kicked in. In fact she felt happier than she had done in ages and, as if it amplified her already gregarious nature, she just wanted to hug everyone, which was rather odd because not more than fifteen minutes ago she'd found them all extremely rude and annoying. Peace and goodwill to all, that's what it was all about now and she was determined not to let the negative energy get her down. She was buoyant as she bounced around the corner but found her way blocked by a man standing just in front of the steps. He was dressed in an olive-coloured camouflage jacket with a black beanie pulled down low over his brow. All he needed, thought Eleanor, was to have blackening smeared on his face for him to look like one of those special ops people you saw in the movies.
"Allo there. Nippy out innit? You coming or going?" She pointed to the entrance.
His expression was wary, almost suspicious as he looked furtively around. "Waiting for Anthony. My mate."
Oh, thought Eleanor. Hope the mate is as cute as this one. "Where's he gone?"
"Uhh...he hasn't gone anywhere." The man rubbed his hands vigorously together to ward off the cold. "He's...around here somewhere. Shy…" He nodded just as vigorously. "He's very shy."
Eleanor looked around but saw no one nearby. The man was now rocking backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet, his combat boots crunching on the gravel. He suddenly stepped closer.
"So...how did you get past them?"
"Past who?"
"You know….them! The Greys. They're every bloody where." His dark, intense gaze swept her from head to toe. "They're taking over whole communities you know - by stealth. You wouldn't know they were there….unless you know where to look." His agitation was evident as he peered into the darkness. "And they change you before you know it. Yes...they change you. Make you grey inside...just like them."
Eleanor didn't quite know what to make of that statement, it sounded very complicated and she was not one to bother her head about very complex matters. Whatever or whomever the man was referring to though, it clearly bothered him a lot.
"Oh now...don't you be worrying so much, love. We won't let them do that to us, will we?" she said cheerfully.
The man suddenly smiled. "You obviously haven't been turned by the Greys like that lot in there. I can tell." He leaned closer, his tone becoming conspiratorial. "Have you noticed how 'shut down' people are here? They're like zombies." His regard was fierce. "You are not like that so you must have escaped detection."
Eleanor was a bit taken aback but she was also quite taken with the intense, nice looking bloke so she decided to humour him.
"Yeah thank god. I escaped." She looked towards the doorway leading into the hall. "Miserable bunch aren't they?"
"What's your name, soldier?" He barked suddenly.
She looked behind her. Apart from some children being herded from the hall by parents who were clearly at the ends of their tethers, there was no-one.
The man glared. "Yes you. Come on, speak up!"
Eleanor was starting to like this little game so she decided a little role playing might be fun. "Eleanor. I'm Eleanor and who might you be? Sir."
He pulled himself up straight with his feet together. "Lieutenant Stewart Edward James."
He said it so forcefully and so solemnly that Eleanor stood to attention and gave him a theatrical salute, then promptly burst into a fit of the giggles. "You don't half look posh when you do that."
Stewart relaxed a little and looked at her curiously. "You're not from around here." He wagged a finger at her as understanding lit up his face. "You're under cover, aren't you?"
Eleanor hesitated just for a split second then decided to go with it. "Yeah - that's right. I'm under cover." She leaned closer and whispered. "You could say I've been under a lot of covers in my time." And she dissolved into another fit of laughter.
Stewart shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "That's clever, that is! Coming here undercover. Very clever." He looked around again. "So you will have been briefed then that the Greys have managed to infiltrate and turn the citizens of Portwenn. A sad business. Very sad."
"Yeah...I seen it first hand. Like someone sucked the joy right out of them."
"That's right!" Stewart's face became quite animated. "Joy suckers! That's what they are. And we all know that unhappy people can be manipulated, don't we? They can be coerced into mob action." He nodded knowingly. "Oh yes - next thing there will be gangs of brainwashed Portwenners patrolling the streets of the village rather like that gang of vacuous teenage girls they got roaming around. Only these will be armed with boat hooks and gutting knives. They'll be the puppets of the Greys. Vicious and ruthless and...grey...inside and out."
His face fell and he looked so stricken that Eleanor felt sorry for him. "Is your friend eventually going to join you? Or do you want to keep me company instead? We could face the Greys together. I need some backup. What do you say eh?"
He looked a bit dubious. "Umm...I'm not sure I should do that. Ant might need me. He's a Red you know. Hunted and abandoned. I am his wing man; his only friend."
"Well he's got two friends now." Eleanor tucked her arm through Stewart's. "Come on Lieutenant." They began walking towards the doorway when Eleanor suddenly stopped and her face lit up as she turned to him. "I must just let you in on a little secret Stewie, I didn't want to tell you right away. I've got the antidote to whatever the Greys have been feeding the citizens of Portwenn."
"An antidote! That's brilliant." Stewart beamed. "These Porton Down biochemist chaps are so clever, aren't they? Bloody miracle workers if you ask me."
"Well we're about to find out if this little miracle is going to work on that lot," she patted her handbag then cocked her thumb towards the entrance. "Come on Stewie. Up and at them!"
oooooOOOOOooooo
My feet are killing me as I maneuver between the chairs and past small groups of people standing in the aisle. My little altercation with my mother has upset me more than I want to admit. She never fails to get under my skin. Sometimes she can be as sympathetic as you like and the next she's off pursuing her hedonistic thrills to the exclusion of anything else. She has no regard for proprieties nor does she have any sense of responsibility. She's left me bewildered and feeling abandoned more times than I care to remember, and yet it was to her I fled when things went so horribly wrong between me and Martin. Why?
My time with her in Spain had been ambivalent and a little turbulent on occasion. If I had gone there looking to be distracted with parties and meeting people it would have been perfect but I wasn't. I'd been heartbroken, with a baby in my care and I'd missed Martin and didn't know how to save my marriage. My mother had made all the right noises but had not tried to hide her dislike of Martin and it hadn't helped that she actively encouraged me to leave him for good.
"He's inflexible Lou-Lou. He'll drag you down time after time. Just let him go. Let him get on with his miserable life."
She hadn't understood how much I loved him; how much I wanted it to work. She saw him as cold and unfeeling, incapable of loving James and me in a 'warm-blooded' way as she put it. I had muttered a denial and she'd laughed, something that had upset very much. I wasn't prepared to discuss our sex life with my mother so how would she know how passionate Martin could be and how tender and loving he was towards both James and me. The more I'd been apart from him, the more I'd missed him - all of him, but I also knew that missing him wasn't going to be enough and that we would both have to make some big changes, some huge compromises. And we did just that - and slowly, incrementally, it had become easier for us. My relief at how it turned out is with me every day - every time I look at him I am grateful when I think how wrong it could have gone, because we were both expecting things of the other that were unreasonable and that could only steer us onto the rocks of misunderstanding and resentment.
I see Martin's tall figure over towards the Christmas tree and I make my way there, hoping that I haven't missed the moment that James receives his little gift from Santa. He's always been shy in these sorts of situations and I want to encourage him to enjoy it.
As I reach them, I notice James is clinging to Martin, his little arm wrapped around his Daddy's leg as he is wont to do when he is both happy or upset, so I am not sure how he is faring. Martin bends down and I see him stroke James's head as the boy looks up at him and nods.
"Everything alright?" I say with my brightest smile.
"Ummm...not entirely. James wishes to go home. He doesn't like all the noise and, as you are well aware, he has never liked to be in crowds."
I take James's other hand and give it a little squeeze. "Look James - Santa." I try to make it sound exciting but in all truth, Santa looks anything but exciting. He's a rather scrawny version of the character and his Ho Ho Ho sounds like his voice hasn't even broken yet. He's dipping into a bag and handing little packages to the children as the line shuffles past him. Martin's expression is disapproving because we both know that the gift is going to contain sugar laden treats of some sort, so I give him a cautionary look and he dips his chin before turning his attention to the line in front of us.
As we approach I am trying to identify who has been commandeered into the role of Santa but the once white, scraggly, moth-eaten beard and the overly baggy, pilled costume make it almost impossible. In the end it's Martin who solves the mystery.
"How's the hand after your vascular surgery Mr Potter?"
I now recognise Bill Potter, the man whose hand Martin saved in an emergency procedure during his disciplinary hearing at the Castle. At the best of times Martin can't remember names, so I am impressed, but I suppose the day they met was rather extraordinary.
"It's great, thanks to you Doc. Good as new." He pushes up the sleeve of his costume to reveal a scar, still red looking and, to my eyes, very sore. I grimace but Martin leans in for a closer look.
"Mmm - very good. Very neat sutures. Healing nicely." He looks up at Bill. "Any numbness or tingling in the fingers...any…"
I nudge Martin and shake my head and he grunts as Bill cheerfully informs us that he's as fit as a fiddle and offers Martin one of the little gifts. "Go on Doc, take it. No-one will mind."
Martin's lip curls in disgust but before he can say anything I grab his arm and pull him aside.
"Daddy can we go now?" James tugs at Martin's hand.
"Good idea James." He looks at me with one eyebrow raised. Martin's distaste for social gatherings has always been a bone of contention between us, although recently he has gone out of his way to humour me, and I really love that about him. No matter how unreasonable I can be at times, he always makes an effort. I put it down to our near miss; when we almost lost our marriage to misunderstanding and stubbornness, well on my part anyway. I know how hard it was for Martin to step outside his comfort zone, but he did, because he really wanted us to be together. Just watching him helping James with the Christmas tree today was living proof of this. I look up at him and I know I am about to test his boundaries again.
"I would like to stay just a little longer, please Martin. There are a couple of people I would love to say hello to because I haven't seen them in a while."
He looks at me with indecision stamped all over his face. He is about to speak when I see his expression change to one of mild horror and his lip curls into a sneer.
"Ohhhh what's he doing here?"
I know who it is before I even turn round and my heart sinks to my shoes.
A deep scowl darkens Martin's face. "Is he one of the people you would love to say hello to?" His eyebrow rises half way up his forehead. I am about to gasp out my indignation at the insinuation when a voice calls out.
"Lou! You disappeared rather quickly. Are you trying to avoid me?" Danny sounds cocky and his laugh is slightly mocking as he looks at Martin.
Before I can speak Martin fires his first salvo. "Of course she is."
Danny has an ego that defies description. Ever since we were at school together, he's been confident in who he is and what he wants from life. Probably a product of a privileged upbringing - to him nothing seems impossible or unattainable; not even someone else's wife it seems.
I step closer to Martin, tucking my hand in his and he glances briefly down at me before fixing Danny with a fierce glare. "What do you want?"
"I just wanted to say hello to Lou." His gaze falls on James who is wedged between us, his little face looking worried. "And to meet this little one." He hunkers down and holds out his hand. "Hello young man." But James shrinks closer to Martin, and buries his face in his trouser leg.
"He's clearly got your looks Lou," Danny says, sounding amused as he stands up, "and his father's personality."
I squeeze Martin's hand and mercifully he remains silent, his expression haughty and cold, instead it is me that says tartly, "I think James has a lovely personality actually. Just as sincere and clever as his Daddy."
The little smirk on Danny's face annoys me. I get the impression that he thinks he is better than Martin and as I look at his supercilious grin, it's as if I am seeing him for the first time. What I ever saw in him back in the day, I don't know. His character is the exact opposite of what I find attractive in a man. Was Danny always so shallow, so smarmy and yes, downright annoying, or is it me who has changed as I've grown older? We've all grown older I suppose and we all change but in Danny's case, it's not that clear that he has.
Martin had recently referred to me as a mature woman when we'd discussed a possible second pregnancy. I'd been less than impressed by the comment, but later that night, as we lay in bed, he'd run the backs of his fingers across my cheek and he'd told me that he hadn't meant anything by his comment other than from a medical perspective but on a personal level he said I had hardly aged at all since the day we'd met. If anyone but Martin had said that I might have been a tad sceptical but Martin is spare with his words and when he says something, he means it. His eyes had been so soft as he'd told me I was beautiful.
Danny has aged, as we all have, but unlike Martin who seems to become more attractive as he gets older, Danny just looks dissipated, and still he clings to his student image, with his baggy trousers and T-shirts under shapeless jumpers, as if that can ward off having to grow up. And that's just it. Danny is still a boy, and Martin is very much a man - in every sense of the word. I feel Martin's warm, firm hand holding mine and I know there is no-one in this world that could make me feel more loved than he does. He's not all hearts and flowers, but his integrity and his steadfastness and the way he is with me reassures me - it's all I need.
I am so focused on the two men and the standoff that seems to be at play that I am only aware that someone has joined our little group when I hear a breathless "Hello Martin." My heart gives a little skip as I recognise Carrie Wilson and Danny, not realising that I have met her before, starts introducing us. Martin's face reminds me of the head of some Roman senator, carved in unyielding marble and just as impassive. His chin is raised and his brows drawn together as he stares imperiously down at Carrie. I don't know why I feel so threatened by this woman. Is it because she is so predatory around Martin? Is it that I think Martin might find her attractive even if he doesn't act on it? I lean against him and he glances down at me as I smile tentatively at him.
"It's lovely to see you again Martin." Carrie completely ignores me and gives Martin a coquettish smile which I am pleased to note seems to have absolutely no effect on him, but Danny notices and immediately cups her elbow with his hand and asks her if she would like to get some refreshment. She completely ignores him too and, fluttering her eyelashes, tries to engage Martin in conversation.
"I've been getting these palpitations Martin. A little flutter every now and then, you know...when I am a little excited...like now. Do you think it's stress?" She puts a hand dramatically on her bosom and simpers up at him.
Martin's tone is irritable. "How must I know? Make an appointment."
I am peeved to note that, unlike Danny, Carrie has aged quite well, although I suspect her hair is coloured, something I am happy to say I haven't yet had to do myself. Her skin still looks good too and of course she shows it off by wearing low cut tops and flashing her cleavage at everyone. Suddenly I don't like the thought of Martin examining her. She's kept her figure while I feel like a stranded whale with my burgeoning tummy, swollen feet and aching back.
As if she hears my insecure thoughts, Carrie finally turns her attention to me, her eyes flicking over me in a decidedly insulting manner but her eyes widen when she notices my baby bump. She almost does a little double take but quickly regroups and flashes Martin another flirtatious smile. I feel myself squaring up to her, like I had done once many years before at Joe Penhale's birthday party at her hotel. She'd tried to dismiss me then too as if I were a nothing but I'd stood my ground. Martin tugs at my hand and begins to push past the two of them and I feel a little rush of smug satisfaction that Carrie realises that the baby bump she's just been ogling conveys the message loud and clear that Martin and I are very much man and wife and she'd better back off.
We step into the aisle and weave past loitering groups of people. A little way away, I see Angela Sim talking to Phil Pratt while her nephew Toby observes the crowd. He's grown since I last saw him and his air of intense interest in everything around him is still very much in evidence. As soon as the boy sees Martin he makes a beeline for him and it's as if someone has pushed the fast forward button on his mouth as he starts to tell Martin about the books on anatomy he's reading and has Martin read this or that and did Martin know...I am almost relieved when I see Ruth approaching, a little smile tugging at her mouth as she looks over at Martin and Toby.
"Well he looks like he's been well and truly cornered."
"Yes but I suspect he prefers Toby's company to a lot of other people around here. He remarked on the boy's intelligence the last time they met."
Ruth looks down at James who is rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. "He looks tired. Do you want me to take him up to the surgery and get him settled?"
"Oh no Ruth but thank you for offering. We aren't going to be much longer and…"
"It's no bother, I was about to leave anyway. Too much noise and too many people." I see her looking over to where Martin stands with Toby, his hands clasped behind his back as he listens intently to what the boy is saying. "He's come a long way you know. Not so long ago, I would have wagered good money on Martin not attending a gathering such as this."
Ruth's affection for Martin is evident in the smile that creases her eyes and I know Martin feels the same way about her. Ruth is one of the few people Martin can actually talk to in Portwenn. He enjoys their discussions on medical matters and her forthright and wry observations about life in general and he values her opinion. In the past I'd often wished that Martin could find a friend, someone he could relate to other than Ruth, a person more of his own age but, Martin seems quite happy without that - he is content with his work and his family. And that makes me happy too.
I glance at him and think I really ought to go and rescue him from Toby's incessant chatter but just then, Maureen Fenn appears at my side eager to talk about her boys. Ruth raises an eyebrow and I nod and she takes James by the hand. I bend to kiss the top of his head before he is quite happily led away. It will be wonderful for him to spend some quiet time with his great Aunt before bedtime and it will give Martin and I a little more time here before we leave.
Maureen is excited for me and my pregnancy. She reminds me of when she had the twins. "Fifty I was. I couldn't believe it. Thought it were me thyroid making me all bloated and tearful. Ever so funny that was and it were your husband that cottoned on to what was really 'wrong' with me." She trills with laughter. "I was a bit old to be having a baby let alone two but Roger has been so supportive." She looks over at Martin as she says it and I get the impression that she doesn't think Martin will be as supportive of me. I wonder why it is that people just assume things like that about Martin, as if I planned this pregnancy all on my own and he wanted nothing to do with it. I sometimes wish I could let people glimpse the Martin I know, the caring, kind man who is always there for us and is, in his way, loving and attentive.
I am just about to excuse myself when I see Sally Tishell and a tall, dark haired woman vectoring in on Martin as if they are in a race to get there first. He is unaware of them until the very last moment when Sally grabs his arm and bats her eyelashes up at him. Martin jumps and tries to back off but the tall woman is outflanking him. He's trapped and I start making my way there as fast as I can. Angela Sim joins the group and I hear her say, "Back off!" as if she's addressing some of her canine patients as she tries to offer Martin some help. Martin is now backed up against the trestle table where the punch is being served and as I approach, I hear my mother's laughter and see her, arm in arm with Stewart James of all people. I am momentarily distracted by this spectacle and don't see Carrie Wilson muscling in between Mrs Tishell and Angela Sim, who is having none of it. She's small but she packs strength in the elbows she deploys sideways and into the ribs of her adversaries.
"Louisa…" Martin's tone sounds desperate as I slip in beside him. The expectant faces of the women surrounding my husband would be quite funny if it weren't so alarming. They're like groupies vying for the attention of their favourite actor or musician. Mrs T's feelings for my husband are no secret, and Carrie Wilson had a thing for him way back - I am not so sure about the tall dark woman though, but as she speaks, I realise it's the American who'd been to the surgery on a few occasions. Angela looks at them with disgust and I, suddenly more annoyed than amused, glare at the semi-circle of faces and tuck my arm through Martin's. Some mischievous part of me enjoys overtly laying claim to him as I rub my other hand up and down his biceps.
"Darling - I would like some punch please." I can tell Martin is about to protest so I squeeze his arm hard and he mutters, "Yes" as he turns toward the punch table only to be confronted by my mother.
"Martin!" She says it as if she is delighted to see him and I frown. She doesn't look drunk but with my mother you never know. She beckons him over. "Bert, give Martin some of your punch - he looks like he needs it."
Stewart James begins to laugh. "Yeah...come on mate, this punch is a game changer." He begins handing out glasses. "Everyone should have some!"
Martin's lip curls in disgust as he hands me a glass.
"Aren't you having some?" I ask and he shakes his head. "It's laden with artificial flavouring and god knows what else. No thanks."
I take a tentative sip and, whilst Martin might be correct about what's in the punch, I quite like it and take another bigger gulp. I must have been quite dehydrated because after finishing half the glass, I suddenly feel quite energised, so energised that when I look around and spy Martin's groupies, I flash them a radiant smile as a great surge of smug satisfaction wells up in me - Martin is mine and I want them to know it. I glance at him and my heart gives a little lurch. He seems even more attractive than ever and I deliberately reach up and place a lingering kiss on his cheek. He seems a little taken aback as I take another swig of the punch. "You should really try some of this Martin. It's very….hydrating." I sound so like him that I start giggling and he pulls his chin in.
"From the way you are behaving, there is clearly too much sugar in it."
I raise the glass and my gaze is challenging as I down the rest of it. "Delicious. I think I will have another."