"I don't see why I had to come to this dinner. She's your friend," Martin scowled to his aunt and gave her a nasty look. "I'm perfectly fine at home by myself," he added, adjusting his suit jacket as they walked from the car to the small seaside cottage.
"Marty, I've had about enough of your complaining," Joan sighed. "Honestly, Marty! You helped Sylvia with her problem. She's grateful and wants to thank you."
"Her problem was constipation after a long journey," he made a face. "We know the only reason I can tell you that is due to the fact she told the entire bloody village. Even Mrs. Tishell was asking me if I'd managed to 'cure' her, as she put it," Martin sputtered. "I don't need supper here."
Joan turned before they reached the door. She had a loaf of bread and a jar of homemade jam in her hand. She gestured to the home. "I expect you to be kind. It's a homemade meal from one of my dear friends. Now, you're alone. I'm alone. Consider it a meal you don't have to cook. I'm sure poor Louisa would love a home cooked meal right now, wouldn't she, hmm? What is she now, about 33 weeks?"
"36," Martin grumbled, rolling his eyes. "She's one month out, Auntie Joan. She's almost done with the school term, and I will be glad when she's off her feet. Now, distracting me with her right now does not change that we are standing outside this home where I really don't want to eat! Who knows what the food will be!"
"Fish, Marty, fish," Joan rolled her eyes and started to walk again, gesturing to Martin. "Sylvia asked what you enjoyed eating and made your favorite. Come on," she added. She started to knock on the door before Martin could argue. He'd been dreading this meal all week. Joan's friend, Sylvia, was a world traveler and rarely home long enough in Portwenn to catch up with Joan or anyone else. She'd come to see Martin last week after returning home from some safari in Africa, and Martin diagnosed her with constipation. That was it, no incurable disease or anything else. Frankly, he'd been surprised she hadn't had it much before now with all of her travels; many travelers did. Since that point, she'd been determined to get Martin and Joan over for supper, and tonight, she's succeeded.
"Oh, Sylvia, delighted to see you," Martin snapped his head up to see his aunt embracing her longtime friend. Martin did remember Sylvia from his childhood. She was one of the people who seemed to have endless stories of "Little Marty." He really didn't want to hear them. Martin wasn't interested in anyone's old stories, not unless they were stories coming from Joan. Part of the problem in hearing all of these old stories was that many could not see that Martin was now a grown man. It was almost puzzling; they recognized his extraordinary medical skills, but they still saw him as a six-year-old boy. He looked up when he heard his name.
"Marty, are you going to stand there all night?" Joan asked. Sylvia was there, a huge smile on her face, no doubt delighted she'd managed to get her friend and the wonderful doctor to her home. He gave a slight nod and followed the women inside.
"Good evening," he said politely to Sylvia as he followed the women inside.
Martin looked around as they walked through the cottage. It reminded him a little of Louisa's old cottage with a spanning view of the ocean. It had a flipped layout to Louisa's cottage, though, with the kitchen at the back by the window area. There was a large table along the windows that allowed one to sit and take in the views. Martin almost missed the sitting area, there by the front door, and Sylvia gestured for him to take a seat by the table.
"Oh, there she is," Sylvia said, and Martin spun around at the mention of a name. "This is my granddaughter, Sara. She's moving to the area, going to live here in my cottage while I am traveling so much. Dr. Ellingham, I thought it would be good for you two to meet."
Martin's eyes flew open at the sight of Sara. She appeared to be in her early-30's, auburn hair, pale complexion, and she was dressed in a long, flowing emerald green dress with a low, v-neck cut. He glanced to Joan who was looking between Sylvia and Sara too, also surprised at the guest.
"My, my, Sara," Joan chuckled as she walked over to embrace her. "It's been a very long time. I'm not sure you remember me," she said with a smile as she clutched Sara's hand in hers. "Lovely to see you after all these years."
"Of course, I remember you," she beamed. "I believe you would allow me to feed your chickens. My grandmother used to buy eggs from you, did she not?" Sara looked to her grandmother who nodded with a warm smile.
"Yes, yes, I did. I had forgotten that you would go there with me when you would visit from your school holidays. Yes, we did do that. Now," she nodded at Sara toward Martin, "this is the absolutely wonderful, brilliant, handsome, and single," she whispered in Sara's ear, although the whisper was anything but that, "Doctor Martin Ellingham. I hope you don't mind if we call you Martin, hmm?"
"Well," he blushed and tossed his head slightly from side to side. Joan jumped in.
"He certainly does not," she told them, but she turned slightly trying to step out of their sight to give him a look. He'd heard it too.
Single.
Oh, yes, so as unaware of social cues as Martin was, he was very much aware when people were trying to set him up on a date. He'd had it happen over and over during his time at the university and during his medical studies. Chris had tried a few times before Martin told him he would not see anyone else Chris though appropriate. Now, here, he glanced toward Sylvia and Sara, an almost horrified scowl on his face, and he found the two women looking at him, all smiles, hopeful smiles. Sylvia stood behind Sara, clasping her shoulders, as if she was almost pushing her granddaughter at Martin.
"Oh, my," Joan whispered and shook her head. Martin tried to get her attention, but she was looking away.
"Ahh, yes, well, good evening, ahh, Sara," he mumbled. "Sylvia, ahh, dinner is not necessary."
"Nonsense," she waved. She turned to Joan with a smile, "Joan, I would like your opinion on a dress I just bought upstairs. Won't you join me?"
Joan gave her a look and chuckled, "I'm not sure I'm the best expert on fashion. I rarely think about anything I wear."
"Come along," she pulled at Joan's arm. "We'll give these two a few moments to get to know one another."
Martin started to object, but before he could, Sylvia had pulled Joan off. He tried to catch her gaze, but she was as startled as he was. He turned to see Sara now by the kitchen area. He sighed, frustrated he was stuck here for this bloody dinner.
"My grandmother isn't subtle," she said, turning to Martin with two glasses of wine. She tried to pass one to him.
"No thank you," he shook his head. "I don't drink alcohol, and quite frankly, you should not either. There are risks with it."
She frowned, "Hmm, I suppose there might be, but there are risks in anything, right? Driving a car is a risk, but we all do it. Eating fried foods and sweets-well, that can be a risk, but they are delicious, and we all enjoy them."
"I don't," he frowned. "It's important to achieve optimal nutritional value."
"Well," she said with an almost fake smile and nod as she put the glass of wine on the table. "Let's try again. My grandmother has told me you are just a brilliant doctor. I'd love to know more. Care to join me on the sofa?" Sara started to move toward it, batting her eyes at Martin as she smiled.
"No, not really. I'm happy here at the table," he gestured. He even moved to sit down, and he sat straight in his stiff posture as she turned back to him. She gave a slight nod and moved to sit across from him.
"You are direct. I like that, and it's not something one often sees. It's actually quite refreshing. So, tell me, how is a man like you still single, hmm?"
Martin raised an eyebrow at her. He cleared his throat, not sure how he wanted to answer.
"Don't answer that," she waved, a big smile on her face. "It doesn't matter. I do think we could enjoy each other's company. My grandmother mentioned you are from London. I lived there for years, but I'm guessing, like you, was ready for a change. It's much quieter here. I'm sure you just love settling down in a quiet village like this."
"Not really," he frowned, eyeing her. He tapped his fingers on the table, trying to decide how to get out of this dinner. It was bound to be a very long night. Sara certainly seemed eager to get to know him, and he really had no interest in knowing her, at least not in the way she wanted.
"Well, my grandmother also said you were quiet and reserved. I know the type-always thinking in that brilliant mind of yours. I believe opposites attract, don't you? I love to talk, love to be around people, but I haven't found that right person. Perhaps I'm not looking at the right type. So, as for me, I am a professional violinist. I believe you and I could enjoy the arts together, the cultured life. I'm sure you are missing it here as much as I already do. Do you enjoy the arts?"
"Ahh," he fumbled, now trying not to roll his eyes. "I was never around it much, always studying," he admitted.
She nodded, pursing her lips, "Well, I hope you've at least been to concerts, heard a symphony before, yes?"
"Ahh, yes," he nodded. "I have been before."
"All in London, I suppose?" Sara tried to meet his gaze. "I am desperate to get to Truro or something around here for the arts. Maybe we could explore it together?"
"I've been to a concert here," he told her quickly. "Last fall, with ahh," he paused and pursed his own lips, finally waving his hand. He was not about to mention Louisa or explain anything related to her. "It was, ahh fine."
"Fine," she nodded, a small smile. "Well, that doesn't sound exciting. What concert hall, may I ask? I just would love to check out all of them, and if you have a recommendation, maybe we could attend together."
Martin put his hands on the table and looked down at them. He spoke as he did, "It was outside, an evening concert. A, ahh," he felt his ears turning red, "friend of a friend," he stated and glanced to her, "was playing, a cellist. It was lovely, I mean, the evening. The concert was ahh, fine."
"Oh," she titled her head and nodded. "That does sound lovely. With it being summer, I imagine there will be other outdoor concerts, yes? We should check them out together."
"What will you be doing here for employment?" Martin blurted out, hoping to quickly change the subject. He could not and would not be attending a concert with Sara or anyone else, no one except Louisa. "A violinist can't be in high demand here, yes?"
"Oh," she frowned, almost taken aback, "well, I will be teaching some lessons at the Portwenn School. I'm sure you have been there for patients, yes? It will be nice seeing you there. It won't be my only school. I'll travel a bit to a few other small schools for lessons. I'm not exactly hired as a teacher, as I won't be there each day, all day, but I will do lessons. I will also offer lessons here. I play the piano too and will be doing that some at two of the local churches. I've already spoken to the vicars. So, you see, I suppose I find work that fits my lifestyle. Now," she narrowed her gaze and smiled brightly at Martin, "I just need to find a suitable friend or companion to go with my lifestyle, yes?"
Martin heard footsteps on the stairs and jumped up, scaring Sara. She put her hand to her chest, and he looked toward the older women almost in a panic.
"Marty, I've returned," Joan said, eyeing him and giving him a small shake of her head. It appeared she was not informed of Sara's presence, and he was grateful for that, not that he would have thought his aunt would have at all encouraged Sara's interest in him. He looked to Sylvia as she spoke.
"Well, I suspect that leaving you two alone, you were able to get better acquainted, yes? I apologize for stealing Joan for a few moments, but Martin, I expect Sara was a decent host, yes?" Sylvia gave them both a bright smile.
"Yes," he said with a nod as he looked away. He felt his face getting flushed. Louisa would never believe this. Actually, he suspected she would get a good laugh. She'd told him he was not the easiest person to date; he knew that, and here, the joke was on all of them. He was secretly married and was still being set up on a date.
"Martin, wine?" Sylvia asked as she walked to the kitchen. "Sara, I had the new bottle out."
"Martin doesn't drink," Sara explained with a shrug. "I suspect a brilliant doctor, though, always has to be prepared for an emergency."
"Yes," Joan said, glancing to Martin, trying to offer an apology with her eyes. She looked back to Sylvia, "Can I help with supper?"
"I'll put the fish on now," Sylvia told them. Martin gestured.
"Ahh, would I be able to use your lavatory?" Martin looked to his host with a hopeful glance.
"Just down the small hall," she pointed toward the front of the house. This was different than Louisa's cottage. He disappeared, hoping to regroup.
Martin stepped into the room, closed and locked the door, and he looked into the mirror. His face was flush. He wanted to leave now. Where was a bloody emergency when he needed one?
Quickly, he got an idea. He pulled his phone from his pocket, and he dialed Louisa.
"Martin, I thought you were going to dinner with Joan," Louisa said as she answered. "It's still early. Everything alright?"
"No!" Martin almost yelled and quickly sighed, dropping his voice. He realized he could be heard if he continued to yell. "Louisa, I'm on a date!"
"Whot?" Louisa asked, and he rolled his eyes as her thick accent came through. "Martin, you do realize you and I are married."
"Of course I do!" Martin hissed. "Auntie Joan dragged me to this dinner, and well," he said, all flustered as he threw up his hands, "her friend has a granddaughter here, a woman who would probably drag me to bed right now if she could. Total disaster."
Louisa chuckled. Martin rolled his eyes, and he ran his hand over his face. He sighed, possibly grateful she was laughing and not actually upset with him. "It's not funny, Louisa!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Martin, but it is. The poor village GP, all alone. He's so handsome, and now, it appears the village plans to marry him off to make him a happy man, hmm? Well, I can show them a happy man."
"Louisa!" Martin exclaimed in a quiet voice. "Please! I need your help."
"What can I possibly do, Martin? I'm in London, and if you are forgetting, no one knows anything about us."
"Just wait a minute and call my phone," he explained. "I will use an emergency as an excuse to get out of this bloody meal."
Louisa chuckled again, and he rolled his eyes, just hoping she would help. She cleared her throat finally.
"Sorry, Martin, but I'm trying to envision all of this. You hate dating, and I imagine you are all red in the face, even your ears, yes? Oh, this would be quite funny. I'll have to speak to Joan later about it."
"Louisa, just call me!" Martin hissed, and he smacked his hand on the sink, wincing in pain as he did.
"What do I get out of this, hmm? I should be jealous some woman is there trying to romance my husband. I know it won't work, knowing you as I do, but I'd like to barter, please."
"Barter?" Martin asked. "Louisa, I'm not in any mood to barter, and what would we barter?"
"I'll call you, but, my lovely husband, you owe me a trip to London, yes? You were going to see about next weekend. Did you change your weekend that you are off?"
He sighed and put his hand to his head, "I'll take care of it tomorrow, yes," he nodded. "It will help here too, as I'll then work then next two weekends after that and should be there before the baby arrives."
"Good," she told him. "I'll call you shortly."
"One minute!" Martin hissed. "Please!"
"I'll call shortly, Martin. Be kind to them," she chuckled and hung up. Martin put his phone away, washed his hands, and he stepped out, grateful the evening would end soon, very soon.
Martin was ready explode at Louisa when she called five minutes later. The wait had been torture, and he knew she was enjoying this too much. It was probably best he not address Louisa right away because he was certain she would just laugh at him.
Martin had stepped outside to take his phone call, and he stepped back in, shaking his phone.
"My apologies," he nodded to the group, noting Sylvia was putting the fish in the oven. "I have an emergency, and I will have to leave."
"Oh, what a shame," Sara walked to him, putting her hand on his arm. Joan watched and raised her eyebrow at Martin.
"Marty, something serious?" Joan asked. He could tell she was questioning things too.
"Ahh, not sure," he fumbled, turning to Sylvia. "I'm sorry, but I must go." He looked to Joan, "I suppose I'm your ride."
"I'll get her home," Sylvia waved. "An emergency can't wait, right? Sara, I suppose you need to realize this happens often." Martin glanced at Joan and gave a slight shrug. She narrowed her gaze.
"I'll walk Marty outside," Joan told them. Marin moved quickly to the door, and he ducked under the doorframe with Joan on his heels.
"Marty!" Joan hissed, and he spun around. "Look, I am sorry about Sara. I had no idea."
"Yes, well," he fumbled, gesturing with his hand. "I should hope not."
"Of course not, Marty! I wouldn't do that to you. Sylvia means well," she sighed. "Do you have an actual emergency? I find the timing interesting."
He looked to her, almost a hint of a smile, and he waved his phone, "Auntie Joan, I did receive a call."
She narrowed her gaze again, and she nodded to it, "You know, I might have to call Louisa later to apologize for this mess. Might she already be aware of things?"
He shrugged slightly and turned to open his door, "Auntie Joan, with Louisa, I am sure you know anything is possible. Good evening," and with that, he got into his car and closed the door. He put down his window, and Joan nodded to him, "Well, at least enjoy your evening. Say hello to Louisa when you speak to her-again," she smiled. "Night, Marty."
