It was a lot to take in.

I was a bit ashamed of myself for thinking it was funny when Edith smashed into the door handle but, later, I realised that it was just my nerves getting the better of me. I'm not proud of it but I have been known to giggle in church.

After she'd stomped out of the room, no one said a word and I was desperate to ask Martin and Mrs Norton what it was all about. Something that she'd said had clearly incensed them both but, even though I was paying pretty close attention, whatever it was had gone completely over my head.

I was so pleased to see that Martin was standing up for himself. Fingers crossed, I don't think she's his girlfriend any more. God, he was angry though, staring after her with a face like thunder. After a bit, Mrs. Norton told him that she needed to speak to him and, although he looked reluctant, he followed her outside. I suppose I should have made myself scarce because I was probably in the way but I didn't actually know what to do with myself so I cleared the table, ran some water into the sink and started to look for a brush and dustpan so I could start to clean up the broken glass.

When she came back inside, of course Mrs Norton began to fuss over me because she said my footwear and shards of glass weren't a good combination. Then Martin came back in and began to boss both of us around, insisting on cleaning it up by himself so I gave in and made everyone a cup of tea, while Mrs Norton did the dishes and no one mentioned anything about what had just happened; we just sat there in a slightly uncomfortable silence.

I wasn't keen on encountering Edith again so I was pretty determined to hang around downstairs until I felt the coast was clear. There had been no creaking floorboards above us for a while but I needed to be sure. After a while, I became absorbed in reading about a new band from Liverpool who'd just released a really good song called 'Relax', and had an album on the way too. A double one apparently, so I wouldn't be able to afford it but I was sure that Caroline would demand that her dad buy it for her and, luckily for us, he had never been known to refuse her.

Mrs. Norton began to yawn and she asked us if we would mind awfully if she went to bed as she said she was feeling shattered. To be honest, I was a little bit glad. Martin wasn't saying anything but it might be my last chance to spend any time with him. We didn't have to be having any sort of conversation or anything because just having him there just felt reassuring. Mostly, I really liked hanging around with my mates but this was different really, in a way I can't explain.

When she stood up to leave, I immediately noticed that she looked really worn out. Suddenly, I felt a bit guilty and I realised that I needed to thank her for the day and all the trouble she'd gone to on my account. She replied with a beaming smile and gestured me over to her, enveloping me in an enthusiastic hug. It made us both feel better I think and perhaps I'm imagining it but the atmosphere seemed a little bit less tense after that; Martin's silence was a bit less stony and that was ok because I knew the reason and it wasn't me. I just went back to my magazine because I knew that Caroline would be demanding it back when I saw her at school on Tuesday.

After a while, the clock struck ten and I noticed that Martin began to clear his throat. He actually did it a few times before I realised that he was actually trying to get my attention.

"Ummm, Louisa, I think I, aah, I will sleep down here tonight." He said uncomfortably. "My things are in the box room so I will just go..."

He gestured upstairs awkwardly.

"Oh, okay." I replied, equally as uncomfortably.

It was all I could think of to say, before it dawned on me that he intended to sleep on the couch, the same couch I was now sitting on.

"Right." I added, standing up. "I'll just, umm, go...you know...ummm. Good night then."

"Yes." Martin replied formally. "Good night Louisa."

I knew I should go, not least because I was really tired myself, however there was something else that I really wanted to say to him, I just needed to pluck up some courage.

"Ummm, Martin. Thanks for today." I said nervously.

He stood there, looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him up; so bewildered and uncomfortable that I couldn't help smiling.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hug you too." I said, despite thinking that I very much wanted to. This newly acquired desire for physical contact was actually a bit disconcerting. If this was how Caroline felt then the stories she'd told us were finally making a bit more sense.

As usual, Martin's expression didn't give much away but I think there was a vague look of relief. "Umm, yes. Good." was all he said, and then he stood there, so gauche and awkward and, well, irresistible.

"I'm knackered though now, aren't you?" I added, hoping to extend our evening by a few more moments.

"Aah Yes...so perhaps...you should...ummm, go. Good night Louisa." He said with a tone of finality, and ushered me towards the stairs.

I passed him in the hall a few minutes later, as I made my way to the bathroom and as he padded back towards the kitchen in a dark blue dressing gown and pyjamas; his case and his suit, on a hanger, in his hand, an old crocheted blanket under one arm and a shoebox in the other. Out of his usual solemn attire, he looked so much younger and, well, normal, I suppose. I would have told him so had I not been terrified of making any sort of sound, and attracting the attention of horrible Edith, who lay not more than ten feet away in Martin's room.

He acknowledged me with a slight raising of his eyebrow but didn't even slow his step, such was his hurry, I'm assuming, to get past her door and back to the relative safety of the couch. I changed into my nightie, washed my face, went to the loo and made my way back to my room, grateful for the softness and warmth of the enveloping bed. Before I switched off the bedside light, as I luxuriated in the comfort, a horrible thought struck me. Martin was on the couch with only a holey old blanket for warmth and I felt more than a smidgen of guilt. I lay there for a moment, wrestling with my desire to stay where I was, because I was already pleasantly half asleep, but also thinking how, after being so nice to me all day, and then having to deal with his nasty girlfriend tonight, he was probably lying there, sad, cold and uncomfortable. Sighing, I picked up the spare pillow from the bed, and the blanket that was draped over the chair, and made my way stealthily down the stairs.

The light was still on, and Martin was propped up at the end of the couch, staring at the wall opposite. He had one of his medical journals in his hand but he wasn't looking at it.

"Martin." I said gently. "I brought you these."

He swung around and stared at me in surprise. As I got closer I saw he'd rolled up his dressing gown to use as a pillow, and the blanket barely would have barely covered his legs so I was pleased then that I'd bothered to come down.

"Umm, right. Thank you." He replied, very gently, and he almost looked pleased as he took them from me.

"That's ok, I wasn't using them." I said and smiled at him.

He patted the pillow, firmly, by way of inspection, unfolded the blanket and then laid it neatly across the back of the couch. Then he looked back at me and said:

"You, aah, you should go to back to bed. It's very late."

I nodded in agreement, as I was overcome by a massive yawn, too exhausted now to disagree; it really had been a totally mad day.

Smiling conspiratorially at him, I tiptoed my way back up to my room.