Martin had barely made it as far as his car and he was already facing his first dilemma of the day. He had been raised a gentleman and, from a very young age, he had adhered to those rules and principles as he understood them. The grey area he found himself inhabiting at that moment made him very uncomfortable.
So he waited, wooden and expressionless, at the passenger door of his car, agonising internally whether chivalrous behaviour should be extended to impudent, capricious teenage girls. As Louisa approached him from the cottage, her dishevelled appearance and almost childlike demeanour made him think probably not. As she came close, even he could see the anxiety written plainly on her face, and he was reminded again of what his aunt had told him about the importance of being kind today. He took a deep breath, swung the door open solemnly, and held it without speaking.
Louisa paused in front of him and gave a now familiar, and almost imperceptible, shake of her head. She sniffed nonchalantly, thrust her hands into her jacket pockets and gazed at his car. When she looked up at him, her insolent expression had returned.
"Did you buy this to impress girls?" She asked, a sly, enigmatic smirk loitering at the edges of her mouth, waiting gleefully for his reaction.
"Get in, cocky." he replied airily, avoiding eye contact by staring resolutely over the top of her head.
She clambered into the seat and he closed the door with an extravagant flick of his arm. As he settled himself into the driver's seat, she looked over at him.
"Is it a chick magnet then, Martin?" she said, gazing at him innocently until she could contain herself no longer, and her face dissolved into laughter.
He started the engine and glanced at her,
"Louisa." He said in a deep, low, growling tone. "Belt up."
Still smiling, she obediently attended to her seatbelt as he flipped the car into reverse, swung it around 180 degrees, and roared off up the driveway.
Joan exited the cottage just in time to see the long trailing cloud of dust disappearing over the hedgerow. She hoped the speed of the departure wasn't indicative that Martin was upset; she was feeling a little guilty about the way things were turning out on the weekend of his long-awaited visit. He'd been impassive when he'd been dragged away from tinkering with his boat but she was realising quickly that, even more so than when he was a child, adult Martin played his cards extremely close to his chest.
After a few anxious minutes of not firing, Joan finally got the Land Rover to kick over and start. She sent up a word of thanks, and shuddered off up the drive, an ominous cloud of black smoke behind her. She had to pick up Helen Pratt on the way and she didn't want to be late and leave herself open to any of Moo's caustic observations on punctuality. By the time they got there, the area in front of the house was already filled with vehicles. She noted with annoyance that, if only Reverend Counter had parked at a less ridiculous angle, they all would have been able to squeeze in comfortably. It was going to be absolute bedlam when the time came to leave, she said to Helen, and rolled her eyes.
Letting themselves in through the front door, they deposited Helen's malt loaf and Joan's plate of sandwiches on the kitchen counter and followed the sound of voices, discovering the assembly was to be a formal affair, seated around Moo's substantial dining table. Helen slid into a spare seat next to Rev Counter, while Joan took up a position near the head of the table, adjacent to Moo. Moments later, Susan Brading swept in on a cloud of Chanel No. 5 and threw herself theatrically into the remaining spare seat, throwing air kisses to some, and nodding and waving to everyone else.
Lester Tregurtha, tapped his water glass with his pen, cleared his throat and, in his deep, authoritative voice asked the assembled company for a bit of shush. When he had everyone's attention, he picked up his hastily typed agenda from the table and began to address them all. As he spoke, Moo took in the room with a sweeping glance, pushed her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose and began, as she always did, to take the minutes.
The policeman started with a brief synopsis of the situation as he understood it, and explained that there were several key points that they needed to focus on today, in order to provide immediate and short term stability to Louisa. They would then delve into her medium-term prospects if time allowed. He concluded by stating that it would potentially be several months before Terry Glasson might come to trial and, if he were to be found guilty, he was looking at ten years plus for his alleged offence. Therefore they would collectively need to be looking at the responsibility for Louisa's daily welfare for at least two years, perhaps even up to four, depending on how long she stayed at school.
Then, he moved onto the agenda, item one. It seemed obvious to everyone there that the most pressing issue for Louisa was accomodation so this was their starting point. With no parental support, it was clear that she could not continue to live in the little rented cottage, either emotionally or financially. After a reassuring glance at Karen Freethy, he invited her to speak. She took a couple of deep breaths and stood up.
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For the first few minutes of the drive to the village, Louisa seemed content to look out the window. Then, Martin noticed she had begun to fidget in her seat. A sidelong glance confirmed to him that she was peering at the dashboard.
"Do you know what all these buttons do?" She asked innocently.
"Yes, so don't touch any of them."
"I'm not. Does the radio work?"
"Of course it works!" Martin replied indignantly.
"Can I please put it on?" She rejoined sweetly.
"Aah yes. I suppose so. Actually, umm, no, I haven't tuned in any stations. For Cornwall that is." He added, somewhat reticently.
Louisa gave a theatrical roll of her eyes
"Well, do you have any tapes then?"
She watched him hesitate, and scowl. Revealing his musical tastes to her via his cassette collection would surely only result in more teasing, more of her entertainment at his expense, he thought.
"Silence is more musical than any song." He replied, a little tersely.
She was surprised, and gave a short laugh.
"Says who?" She retorted.
He didn't reply but she sat a little taller in her seat and began to regard him a bit more closely. Her impish half smile returned.
"Does everyone get about in a suit in London then?"
Martin slowed the car to a stop as he reached the turn off to the village. For the last minute, he'd become aware of an irritating squeak in his seat and the thought of listening to it all the way home to London filled him with despair. He heard her speak and then took a moment to give her a perplexed stare before accelerating rapidly again, throwing her back into her seat.
"What?" He snapped back with a distinctly irritated tone. The squeak was still there.
She smiled to herself. He was just a bit too easy to get a reaction from, and she really couldn't help herself. Admittedly, she liked the way he looked in the suits, quite a lot actually, and she thought the way he dressed was very smart, unlike anyone else she knew. It was just a bit unusual for the country, and the seaside though.
Louisa looked out the window again, and started to hope she'd see someone she knew from school as she was being driven through the village in a flash car. Then, she remembered the reason for their trip to the cottage and she felt a stab of anguish.
"Do you know where to go?" She asked him, quietly.
Noticing the change in her voice, Martin glanced over at her and saw how forlorn she suddenly appeared. She was staring straight ahead, chin on her chest, arms folded. He was taken aback. God, he thought uncomfortably, she really is mercurial. Have I upset her? What have I said?
Making a conscious effort to modulate his voice, he spoke to her gently.
"I, aaah, I have a vague idea, Louisa, but I will need you to direct me. Please."
"Okay." She replied shakily and slid down in the seat a little, looking small and defeated.
Martin suddenly felt that silence perhaps wasn't so musical, and definitely wasn't golden. He understood that he should say something comforting but he had absolutely no idea how to. As usual, he felt out of his depth, and frustrated as yet another of his apparent deficiencies was exposed. Say something, Ellingham, you halfwit! he thought desperately.
"I'm sorry, Louisa, what did you ask me about London?"
Casting a quick glance at her, he was slightly relieved to see that she pushed herself up straighter in her seat. After a moment, she spoke; her voice quiet but there was at least a hint of her former jauntiness.
"Oh, the suit thing, I just noticed, umm, your suits. And I wondered if it was a London thing." She asked casually. "Or a Martin thing."
He paused. He was beginning to suspect that her cheeky self-assurance, like his surly detachment, was a highly effective self- defence. Be kind Martin, he heard Auntie Joan say again.
"Umm, very well." he intoned evenly. "Probably a fair question if one has never visited..umm, if you've never been there. So, yes, aaah, home to six and a half million people...so it would be a misleading statistic to, umm, to provide the percentage of that population that would wear a suit. But, ummm, amongst certain segments of society, aaah, more particularly the professional classes, it is considered de rigeur, that is to say, it is conventional, aaah, for one to wear more formal attire. i.e a suit and tie."
Louisa was now paying close attention to him. She had had to concentrate hard to follow his funny little speech but, strangely, she enjoyed listening to his voice.
"Professional classes? Is that what you are Martin?"
He looked uncomfortable and replied hesitatingly: "Mmm."
She regarded him coolly, than he noticed the insolent smile reappear on her face. She busied herself with tucking her hair behind her ears and running her fingers upward through her fringe. Martin braced himself, and noticed he was holding his breath, but she didn't speak.
Eventually, as the village appeared in front of them, and he eased off the accelerator, she finally said: "Aaaaand, Martin? Why the mysteriosity?"
He exhaled loudly and scoffed. "Umm, I don't believe that's actually a word."
A car approached them on a tight corner and he pulled the car over hard left to let them past.
"Martin?"
He couldn't see any real harm in telling her, so he didn't understand his own reluctance, other than his pathological dislike of discussing himself. He knew that he couldn't deflect her interest with his usual rudeness or Auntie Joan would have his guts for garters, and he knew that Louisa, of her own volition, wouldn't give up asking. He suspected that resistance was futile; best make it sound as uninteresting as possible, and quash any further line of questioning.
Sighing loudly he said: "I...ummm..I'm undertaking my surgical registry."
"Oh." Louisa said flatly, not really any the wiser. She was about to question him further when she realised that she needed to give him directions quickly, before they ended up at the harbour.
"Turn here!" She cried.
Martin stabbed the brakes and swung the car sharply into the steep and narrow street, where he narrowly avoided plowing into an oncoming car.
The other driver wound down his window.
"Tosser!" He shouted emphatically.
Martin gripped the steering wheel, leaned his head back against the headrest and grimaced.
"Louisa, a bit more notice would be appreciated!" he barked, and turned his head so he could glare at her.
She met his scowl with a cheeky grin.
"I tried to tell you, Martin, but with you talking non stop about yourself, I couldn't get a word in edgeways, could I?"
oooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo
Karen Freethy took a sip of water to compose herself, and prepared to address the room. Of course, she had no problems with public speaking; she was a highly experienced educator who'd been standing up in front of people since she joined the debating club in Third Form. But, today felt a bit different because she felt unusually emotional, and she knew how crucial the decisions made today were to Louisa's future, maybe even her survival.
She cleared her throat and began to speak.
With the only other sound being Muriel's frantically scratching pen, the rest of the room listened, transfixed, to the story Karen told. She spoke hesitatingly, of a close childhood friend, Wendy, whose mother had developed breast cancer when the friend was twelve years old. Wendy's stepfather had been unable to cope with the situation and had departed, leaving the girl and her mother alone to deal with the ultimately unsuccessful treatment. Wendy's mother had passed away, tragically, just before Wendy's fifteenth birthday. Unsurprisingly, the girl took it very badly; she was angry at the world, and rejected even Karen's attempts to console her. There had been no relatives to take her in and, in a busy impersonal town, no one in the community had rallied around her either. Karen's mum had just had a baby, so the Freethy's now had seven children of their own to cope with. Wendy had never returned to school after the summer holidays and, when Karen had gone looking for her, she discovered her house had new tenants. Karen never saw her friend again until, as she was preparing to start university, she received the horrifying news that Wendy had been discovered, dead, in the toilets at the railway station, the needle still in her arm.
Karen told them, her voice quavering with emotion, that she had never recovered from the pain of her friend's tragic downfall and her lonely death, and that she still felt a burden of guilt because she had been unable to do anything to help Wendy. She paused for a moment to compose herself.
"So that's why I'm here today, you see." She said gravely. "Because I've seen what can happen to a sensitive, intelligent, talented girl when she doesn't get the support she needs. I taught Louisa a few years ago and she's very special, so capable...she has so much potential...and that's why I'm offering...I would like to do everything I can...I couldn't bear to think I hadn't done everything I could. So, while she is still attending school, I would like to offer Louisa free board and lodging in my home."
Karen lifted her head and looked around. Everyone's eyes were fixed on her, and many were filled with tears.
"So maybe in some way, I can help right the terrible terrible wrong that was done to Wendy." she added, and crumpled back into her chair; the silence of the room broken only by her muffled sobs.
