Chapter 3 - The Teacher

After a very non-interesting morning dealing with two earaches, two fevers, one stomach ache, a red and swollen toe (which needed to be lanced and drained), and the usual refill of prescriptions for the denizens of the village I was nearly spent from boredom. I came out of my consulting room and was amazed to see an empty waiting room, so I looked at my watch. Lunch time already? As I opened my mouth to ask Pauline to call the school for me, she was already marching out the door.

"Ta, Doc!" she called in a cheery tone. "Lunch time! See you in an hour!" then she muttered, "Or thereabouts…" The slamming of the door behind her garishly clad person made a sharp punctuation to her statement.

I had left my mobile on my desk, so I used the desk telephone to dial the school. The instrument buzzed three times.

"Hello! Portwenn School!" went into my ear in a chirpy way. It was Sally Chadwick, the school's secretary. Other than her lapse to have a tattoo, and then to try and sandpaper it off herself, which was idiocy, she was a fairly level-headed woman to deal with.

I said to her, "This is Doctor Ellingham."

"Oh hello, Doc Martin. How are you this fine day?"

My throat went dry. "Erhm, ahem… I wish to speak to Miss Glasson… if she is available."

"Let me check." I heard fumbling noise as she put the handset down and then clopping footsteps.

I watched the second hand go around on my watch, until she returned.

"She's with one of the teachers, just now. Like to leave her a message?"

"No. I'll… contact her later."

There was a pause until she spoke. "So no message? None at all? I got pen and paper ready for you to tell me. Save you a second call later."

I took a deep breath as I steeled myself. Get a grip Martin; you are only leaving a message. "Yes, I need to speak to her about one of the students. A medical issue."

"Right. 'Course you won't or can't tell me the name?"

"That is correct."

"Then I'll put down 'Call Doctor Ellingham when you are available. Must speak to you about a student health issue.' That work?"

"Yes. Now if she can return my call later today, I may be examining a patient at that time, but I shall tell my receptionist to put her through, when she calls, if she can… or is able to… later today..."

"Got it," Sally replied. "Oh and Doc?" her voice dropped so there must be someone near her; "The scabs are nearly gone. Just down to a few little ones and they all lifted off in the bath. That bloody tiger is gone once and for all."

Whatever possessed people to decorate their bodies with dirt, ash, soot, or ink injected under the skin I would never understand. Semi-permanent reminders of a momentary feeling, no doubt. "Good. Goodbye." I rung off then went to prepare my lunch.

I was sitting down to eat vegetable soup and a small green salad when I heard footsteps approach my kitchen door and then heard a voice which I knew well. "Hello!" a woman's voice called to me.

It was Louisa Glasson, standing in the open doorway. "Louisa!"

She was wearing a long yellow maternity dress, tied at the waist, with her brown handbag carried on her elbow. A short sleeve white cardi was also thrown over her shoulders. Louisa stood there with shoulders well back in the lordosis of pregnancy; the large belly and distended breasts partially counterbalanced by the rearward projection of the upper back, while the pelvic girdle was thrust forward supporting the uterus.

But such a posture was appropriate considering she was now thirty-three weeks pregnant. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her eyes and mouth; her whole body seemed to be smiling; no wrong word. Happy, yes radiated happiness. Was she happy to see me? No, couldn't be. Not the way I lambasted her over the kidney infection and the terrible advice she had taken from that horrid District Nurse, Molly Whatever. But in the end Louisa had taken the necessary antibiotics to cure her illness.

She said. "Hi, Martin. You called me? Sorry to interrupt your meal."

I stood. "Louisa, yes. Time for my midday sustenance. Have you eaten? There is more if you have not?"

"Yeah, sandwich and some fruit." She peered around the room. "May I come in?"

I waved my hand to bring her in form the open door. "Have a seat." I hurried around the table and pulled out a kitchen chair for her to sit on. My father was a cad, but he had taught me a thing or two about manners. When a lady comes in the room you stand and then you help her to a chair.

I began with, "You didn't have to walk all the way from the school. And..." I caught a faint whiff of her scent. Kenzo Flower and soap, and warm creamy female skin… I had to stop my thoughts from going down that track. Oh, God, Louisa, I am so…

She brushed by me and I felt a tingle as her bare arm brushed against my hand. "Thank you, Martin," she said as she sat down. "Walking is good for me plus I had the time and I knew your surgery was closed. So… here I am." She brushed wrinkles from her dress, folded her hands on the table and then peered at me intently. "What's this all about?" she asked in a level voice.

Shaking myself internally away from thoughts of a more pleasant time, I returned to my seat and faced her squarely. We'd sat just like this how many times? She sat over there, back to the kitchen counter and I sat directly across. The night of all that wine (still a blur), dinners, the night after our engagement when I gave her my grandmother's ring, and all the rest. I looked at her and wondered how we got to such an impasse, and it was a helluva lot more than just a jilted wedding and a pregnant belly standing between us. There was more, a lot more. But this child she was carrying was ours; hers and mine. I'd be a father and she a mother no matter the terrible mess the child's parents had made of their relationship.

I sighed inside. Oh Louisa, if I could just tell you… just say what I...

She cocked her head. "So, you wanted to speak to me about one of my students?"

"Hm? Our yes, so how to begin. You know Frank Marrak."

"'Course I do. Nice boy. Smart. Good grades, but not so much now. Slipping a little. I was going to speak to his mum. Ask what has changed."

I nodded. "I believe that the grades, or lack of, may be due to the real problem."

"And that is?"

"Your school and the other students. His classmates."

"Oh? My school?" she bristled and her voice went louder. "The other kids? And how does that relate to a medical problem? Hm, Mar-tin?! My fault as well, is it?"

I groaned inside. Not how this was to start, so, I held up my hands. "Louisa, please let me explain."

Louisa crossed her arms, green eyes flashing daggers my direction. "You had better!"

I sighed through my nose and then began slowly while trying to calm my thumping heart. "You know the Marrak boy has a rare genetic enzyme deficiency…"