Chapter 20 – Teacher V

In short order we were approaching the village and news had preceded our arrival, since a few villagers were out of their cottages and they waved and gave my car a 'thumbs up' or cheered as we passed.

"Oh gawd," I moaned.

"Now Mar-tin, they're only showing appreciation," Louisa admonished me. "It'll be the 'Moonray' all over again."

"What's a moonray?"

"It was a famous nearby rescue by the RNLI a few years ago."

"Oh."

"I'm surprised you haven't heard about it."

I groaned.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.

"Nothing." Village lore meant nothing to me and if I'd been told it I did not retain it.

She went on, "I can see the headlines now, 'Local Boy Rescued by GP.'"

That made me groan once more.

She chuckled. "It is true. Rescue it was and you did it, Martin." I saw she was now beaming.

"Penhale wasn't capable, and uhm, you were, are…" my hand waved at her bulging midriff.

"Yes, Martin. I have noticed. But if there had been no one else available and I wasn't preggers I would have."

"What?" I exploded. "Louisa, it was bloody dangerous in that mine! How can you say that?"

"Frank is one of my students, and Mrs. Marrak's boy. If a child is in peril? Well, I live in this village and what affects one can affect all."

I digested that bit briefly then replied, "I can't believe that I actually went into that horrid pit," I muttered. "Darkness, jagged rocks, and a hazardous climb both in and out and…" I stopped when I saw her wipe at her face, for I saw her cheeks glisten with growing moisture. "I did not mean to upset you."

She glanced at me. "But someone had to, and you did." She took a hand from the steering wheel and rested it on her belly. "That's your daddy," she said looking down.

What must it be like to have a baby growing inside you? It must be tolerable, at a minimum, or the human race would not exist. Hormones of gestation moderate the maternal brain so that must be it, preparing the female for raising the child. Pre-birth imprinting I'd heard an OB-GYN doctor call it. So, what did that mean for the father of the child? I wondered what sort of father I would be since becoming one had not been on my timetable. And Louisa had made it quite clear that she was going to raise our child on her own.

Then she added, "And I was worried."

"Of course. The boy was in trouble; needed help."

"I also worried about you."

"Oh." What did she mean by that? "But the boy's out now; should have a full recovery. But I shall be writing a stern letter to the Parish Council about closing off places like that! There must be others with such dodgy barriers to keep the unwary out."

She nodded. "Yes, there are other mines nearby; tin, arsenic, copper, silver as well." She looked at me again. "Nearly home now."

She drove down to the Platt and now there were more villagers about, waving, lifting pints in my direction. "Now they're all doing it," I moaned as I heard their praise.

Louisa sighed. "Martin, you are very capable, obviously, and you have done something great, so please be nice and accept their thanks. I will also point out that quite a few villagers rallied and arrived at Wheal Bal ready to do what had to be done."

That was true, and Al Large and Chippy Miller had come after me. "That is true," I mused. But did I have to be nice?

At last the car nosed into the parking space, while I admonished her to not park too close to the shrubs which would scratch the paint.

Sighing, she shut off the motor. "And now we're home," she said.

I peered at her, wondering what she meant. In the village, yes. At my home correct. But she was living across the harbor in that old time-waster's place. "Right." I wearily rose from the car.

Louisa struggled out and closed her door.

I took her arm. "Louisa, let me…help. There's loose slate just there."

"Oh, right," she told me. "Don't want a fall."

I inclined my head and took her to the front door. Automatically reaching in my pocket, I found my keys as missing.

Louisa jangled the keys at me. "Got it."

I stepped aside as she unlocked the door and was treated to a whiff of her aroma. It was shampoo and hair conditioner, Kenzo Flower, deodorant, a slight tinge of perspiration, and other mysterious scents of a female. But there was more as she stood close to me – a sense of togetherness – but that must be my memory working from a time when we were close.

She turned to give me the keys, our hands touched, and the jolt was almost electric from hand to brain down to my toes and back. "Ahm," I cleared my throat, and pulling the keys away said, "Best be getting these filthy clothes off. Er, washing up."

She stood still for a moment then sniffed the air. "Yes," she wrinkled her nose. "I think that cologne we shall call eau de Bal."

Not trusting myself to answer, I barged past her, bolted up the stairs towards the bath.

Surveying myself in the mirror over the sink I was a wreck. Face and hands filthy, hair like a rat nest, shirt was damaged, tire with dark rust streaks all over it, my suit was for the rubbish bin, and my fine shoes were scratched too deeply for repair. More clothing ruined. More lost things in this blasted village. My hands were also abraded and I'd need one or two plasters to repair them.

I started the water running into the bath, and stripped off, but realized I needed clean clothes to wear. Wrapping a towel around my middle, I walked into my bedroom, and was gathering clothing when I heard a step out in the hall, and I'd left the bedroom door standing open!

"My, don't you look… ahem, remarkable," I heard Louisa from the hallway. "I'll hold on the cooking until you're finished, shall I?"

I yelled, "Ohhhh!" and felt my entire body blush, for the towel barely covered my abdomen and backside.