Chapter 8 – The Doc VI

Somehow, I had lost the plot, and that upset me. Aunt Joan was unhappy to the point of yelling, the woman I had once loved, or thought I had long ago, seemed to find me appropriate as a manuscript editor (and perhaps something more) and Louisa, well… Louisa had a number of things to be unhappy with me and rightly so.

Then there was London, gesturing to me like a beacon in the fog. Leave Portwenn? Forget that I'd spent four years here? That my time here had meant nothing, just give the benighted place the back of me and never look back? Yet surgery was the best thing i could ever do as a doctor. To return to that would be...

I closed my eyes as they got a distinct burning sensation. Not again. They were wet, very wet, and I ground my teeth together as I willed the fluid to go back into my tear ducts. Obviously, it did not, so I wiped them with a quick swipe of my hand.

"You okay, Doc?" PC Penhale asked, interrupting my internal dialog. The Policeman was standing behind me in the co-op market.

I had to buy fresh vegetables for my dinner tonight and it was just my luck to be shoehorned between two of the church ladies and our resident cop, while the cashier stared at the register with a blank stare, clearly out of her depth to be ringing up purchases. The customer, an old man, was telling her she was useless, as ever, making any real progress on his purchases a nil effort.

"Fine," I growled, willing him to shut it by tone alone.

But Penhale being Penhale, kept forcing the issue. "Oh. Hay fever, betcha. Been bad this year." He tapped me on the shoulder. "When I have a nose or eye moment such as yours, I just give 'em a good wipe and a blow." I heard him fumbling with something and then a tissue was waved by my right ear. "Here, Doc. Tissue. I always carry some, along with my Mace, handcuffs, and my uhm, other police gear."

To keep him from blathering on, I snatched the tissue away and made a production of doing as he had suggested. I stuck the tissue into my pocket and mentally willed him to shut up once more.

Then he poked me in the shoulder with a finger. "Doc, I was thinkin' that if you needed somebody to talk to… well," he lowered his voice, "then I'm your man."

I hitched my shoulder away from the man. "No thank you," I told him.

"Just stands to reason with Miss Glasson and you at odds, it must be awkward."

That set me off. I turned ready to tear a strip off him when I saw the aged Mrs. Blaine, the worst gossip in the village behind him. She was short in stature but was peering around Joe with an inquisitive look, her pale blue eyes catching mine, as if to say, "Go ahead, Doc. Tell him what you really think. I'm listening!"

My mouth snapped shut but then said, "Yes."

"Yes, what, Doc?"

"Awkward."

Joe nodded. "Too right with everything out in the open, shall we say?" His free hand made a top-to-bottom circular motion at his waist indicating a pregnant belly, followed by a sly wink from an eye.

I blew air from my nose. "If you are indicating, Penhale, that you have noticed that Louisa Glasson is pregnant, well she is. And yes, her child is ours, erhh, mine."

Penhale smiled. "I knew that, or I guessed, or so I heard. Wagging tongues, right?"

Old Mrs. Blaine stifled a chuckle, so I glared at her. "Do you have something to add?" I grumbled at her.

She blinked nervously. "No, Doc," she gulped, her wrinkled lips wobbling above her triple chins.

I realized that the background noise in the market had fallen to a silence. I turned to see four more faces (the counter woman, the male customer, and the two old biddies) all turned in my direction, waiting no doubt, for one of my infamous verbal outbursts to occur.

Suddenly my head began to pound, my heart thumped in my chest, I felt my body grow warm in a flash, my hands and feet grew moist, and my vision blurred slightly. No, no. Not now! The panic attack prodrome was upon me, so I closed my eyes and took careful sips of air, as saliva flooded my mouth.

"Doc? You okay?" Penhale asked and his words seemed far away.

My eyes snapped open, I practically threw the aubergines in my left hand at the man, and then bolted from the shop. Outside the door, I plunged my hand inside my coat, scooped out my mobile, snapped it open, and simulated taking a call as I took a few steps down Fore Street.

My subterfuge was interrupted by Penhale who appeared as if by magic at my elbow. "Emergency Doc? I got my Land Rover just around the corner."

"Goodbye," I said into my silent mobile. "Uh, no, Joe, just getting information… on a patient… test results."

"Ah," he said. 'Hush, hush stuff no doubt. Confidentiality. I get that."

I turned away from him and marched downhill. Blast it! I felt slightly better, didn't think I'd pass out, but it was a close call all the same. That had not happened before. I'd not seen any blood, so what caused it?

"Doc?" Penhale called to me, and he added, "I meant what I said."

I looked back and he was imitating holding an imaginary mobile to his face. His lips mimed the words, 'Call me.'

I tried not to sneer, so I faced front and marched myself back to surgery.