Chapter 3: Therapy

Tuesday

"You seem distracted today Martin," said Dr. Marcel Milligan. "Is there something on your mind?"

Martin considered this question. He had once been so opposed to therapy. He was fine recommending it to his patients when appropriate, but the thought of going through it for himself, exposing his inmost thoughts and emotions, made him shudder. He had been determined to overcome the haemophobia by sheer force of will and it hadn't worked. His very first therapy experience had been with Dr. Milligan, pushed into it by Edith and by desperation to return to his old life as a surgeon in the big city. It all seemed like another lifetime now.

Just a few short years ago, he thought he had a chance to beat his phobia, to get away from Portwenn, away from painful memories, away from the wedding that didn't happen. He had actually let Edith worm her way back into his life, even as Louisa had pushed him away. He agreed to therapy, but still couldn't overcome his resistance to taking anyone else's advice then.

However, once he started using the CBT guided imagery CD Dr. Milligan had recorded for him, he began actually seeing improvement, although in the end it was all for nothing. He could cope with blood in an emergency situation but the phobia, the repulsion, would never leave him. He was resigned to it now. In the end he had attained something better, the reconciliation with Louisa, a life and home with his wife and son, the twins to come, and even a place in a community that had come to accept him and that he had reluctantly accepted.

Life moved on, and desperation to save his marriage to Louisa had driven him to embrace therapy with Dr. Timoney. The couples' therapist Aunt Ruth had recommended ultimately proved unhelpful, declaring them one of the most difficult couples she had ever worked with. He had been impressed with her professionalism up to that time, but he had to agree with Louisa that Dr. Timoney's parting remark was very unprofessional, and could hardly be excused by her concussion as she had had a week to recover by then.

It was actually the bizarre situation posed by the Winton family kidnapping him that saved their marriage. He had experienced real fear for his life, and that he would never see Louisa and James Henry again. He was deeply touched by Louisa's insistence that he would never abandon them and her determination to find and rescue him. It all had done more to cement their commitment to each other than any formal therapy had done.

After that the tension between them seemed to dissolve on its own. He moved back to the surgery and resuming their lives together suddenly seemed easier and more natural than he ever felt possible. They were happier than they had ever been together. Now their attempt to try for another baby was successful, indeed twice over this time.

However, he now grudgingly accepted that he still had personal issues of his own to deal with and that therapy could help. So he had returned to the therapist who had actually produced results. He had come to accept and respect Dr. Milligan after initially being taken aback by the man's youthful appearance. He no longer let himself be distracted by trivialities, like the barely perceptible nasal whistle when the therapist breathed, although he did always wait in the car until the exact time of his appointment to avoid any chance of running into whichever patient preceded him with Dr. Milligan. The therapist lived on the outskirts of Delabole, sufficiently far from Portwenn that Martin wasn't too likely to be seen by anyone from the village but he was still self conscious about being fodder for gossip.

"Everything all right with Louisa's pregnancy?" Dr. Milligan asked, disrupting Martin's thoughts. "Twins can present some complications."

"No, everything is fine with that," he replied. "I've been monitoring Louisa's health and progress, but not being overly controlling - as you recommended. It's more, well, it's about this outlet mall proposal for Portwenn."

"Oh yes, I heard about that - Treasure Island, should bring lots of visitors and jobs into the village."

"Lots of traffic and tourists, you mean."

"Well yes, there are potential drawbacks I'm sure." Dr. Milligan pausing, seeming to sense there was more to his patient's comment. "So you've gotten to appreciate the character of a little Cornish fishing village then…or is something else bothering you Martin?"

Martin frowned. "It's the person behind it all, it's…" He didn't know how to express what he was feeling without it coming across as petty.

"Yes, some developer down from London, name of, um, Bellinger? Something like that."

"Bellingham. Malcolm Bellingham. He's my cousin."

Dr. Milligan smiled. "Is he? Bellingham and Ellingham… rather an amusing coincidence."

"Don't belabour the obvious. My mother and his are sisters, they married men with similar surnames."

"You seem rather agitated about his presence here."

"Hm."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Hm," Martin felt a bit silly repeating himself but nothing resembling words was coming out.

Dr. Milligan scribbled a quick note on his pad, then uncrossed his legs and leaned forward slightly. "Why don't you tell me about how you got along with him when you both were children. Are you close in age?"

"Er yes. He's two years older. His mother, my Aunt Marion, and mine are sisters… as I said. Aunt Marion is the elder, again by two years. She married a solicitor and had a son, Malcolm. He was always the favoured child in the family, very extroverted, people found him charming," Martin said the word with distaste. "My mother doted on him. I always got the impression she only agreed to have a child of her own because she thought he would be like Malcolm. My father wanted a son of course, but he found me… disappointing."

Dr. Milligan scribbled another quick note but said nothing, waiting for more. Martin glanced out the window. It was such a lovely day out there, yellow roses were blooming in the garden, the sun was glistening on the sea far in the distance, but his chest felt tight and his hands were damp. He took out a handkerchief to wipe them, and felt compelled to say something to fill the silence. He didn't know what he was about to say until it came out.

"I was an unwanted child…"

To be continued…