Martin stood at the window of his flat, contemplatively, staring out at an awakening city, a saucer in one hand, a half-drunk cup of espresso in the other. Already the streets were filling; millions of people, hurrying from their homes, and clambering into buses or pouring into the tube stations; swarming toward a myriad of destinations and occupations; each with their own problems, hopes and expectations uppermost in their minds.
If he ever thought about other people's lives it was generally in terms of judgemental disapproval, or undisguised indifference; indeed he had never really felt any interest at all in the daily existence of his fellow citizens except if it were medically related. Obsessively private, Martin did not welcome enquiry into his personal circumstances so nor did he therefore probe the lives of those around him. Even his closest colleagues came under the category of uninvolved detachment and a pathological lack of curiosity. There was his Auntie Joan of course, her well-being was very important, and his friend Chris, too; of course the welfare of both these people mattered greatly to him. But, he had absolutely no interest in the minutiae and tedium of their daily routines. What they did, where they went, who they saw; he was completely disinterested and saw nothing remiss in that.
As the noise from the street began to infiltrate the calm of his flat, he went through his usual morning routine; running through the day's events in his mind, in a logical and orderly fashion, while he drank his coffee and prepared for the challenges ahead. Amongst the usual nagging reminders of reports to be written, meetings to be attended and surgeries to be performed, he was aware of a new, rather persistent and highly disconcerting whisper that threatened to suffocate all of his usually well organised and thorough thought processes.
Somewhere in the densely populated, six hundred square miles that made up Greater London, Louisa would be getting ready to start her day. For the first time that he could remember, he actually contemplated someone else's life, and the realisation rather surprised him. Reluctantly, he allowed himself to imagine what she might be doing. He thought about where she might go, how she might get there and, even briefly and somewhat uncomfortably, who she might be with. And then the most ridiculous and debilitating thought of all came to him, one that actually caused him to drop his cup and saucer, distractedly, into the sink with a resounding crash. He couldn't help but wonder, without even the tiniest glimmer of hope, whether she might somehow be thinking about him too.
Glancing at his watch, and noting that it was time to leave, he made for the door only to realise with annoyance that he had left his briefcase in his office. Castigating himself thoroughly, he couldn't help but remind himself that these were the sort of mindless behaviours that occurred when you allowed yourself to be so unnecessarily distracted. It wasn't as if you put up even the slightest resistance Ellingham, he thought reproachfully as he jogged down the stairs and out on to the street. She shows you a bit of attention, flashes a few pretty smiles, you glimpse a morsel of cleavage and your hard fought resolve disappears into the ether. Absolutely ludicrous behaviour.
His self contempt diminished slightly as he walked, and he thought about how, despite his extreme fatigue, he'd willingly spent the entire evening dismantling and cleaning her watch. The intense satisfaction he'd felt from a close inspection of the exquisite enamel face was a reward in itself. He'd also taken the time to admire the delicate workmanship, and the art of the Silversmith, before compiling a list of parts that he'd needed and noting down the telephone number of a specialist supplier in West Yorkshire that would be his first port of call today. He would contact them after he had completed his rounds and, for now, that was all he would be able to achieve. The timing couldn't be worse, he thought ruefully, as he waited impatiently to cross the road. He'd tried to make that clear to her yesterday, but the warmth of her appreciation, and the gratitude in her eyes when she'd thanked him, had rather put him off his train of thought and he'd stammered his way through a couple of disjointed and incoherent sentences before deciding that silence would undoubtedly be his best option.
After his exceptionally taxing day, he had slept surprisingly well until he was woken by his alarm. After his shower he had felt refreshed and, to his enormous relief his energy levels seemed somewhat replenished. As he walked briskly toward the hospital, he felt almost jittery such was his renewed vigour, and he briefly wondered whether the coffee could have affected him so. He allowed himself a last brief pleasant recollection of his afternoon in Pimlico before firmly closing the door to that room in his mind and setting his face in a fierce scowl. Striding purposefully into the building that housed the Vascular Department, with his life and emotions successfully compartmentalised, Martin jogged up the stairs to the office suite and prepared to start his day.
Conversely, seven o'clock in the morning in a student flat was an entirely different scenario and the Graham Terrace house was gloomy, still and silent. Louisa was half awake, curled on her side, her hair contained in a loose plait and with most of the bedding on the floor in a tangled heap. She had experienced a fretful night, not least because the bottle and a half of wine she and Libby had consumed had affected her rather more than usual. It was a valuable lesson, she lamented, that raw fish does not have quite the same stomach lining capabilities as a large plate of fried rice or a chicken biryani.
After Libby had recovered from her unbridled amusement at Louisa's expense, she had fetched some tumblers from the kitchen and dashed upstairs to retrieve a bottle of Gewurtztraminer from the back of her wardrobe. After a minor corkscrew malfunction, they'd ended up pushing the cork into the bottle, meaning they'd had to sieve the contents of the first few glasses through their teeth as they'd drunk them, before Louisa had gleefully remembered the tea strainer and it had been a lot better after that; so much so they'd opened both a large packet of crisps and a second bottle of wine.
Libby had taken the firm stance that, whoever this Martin person was, it was clear to her that he did have some partiality to Louisa, but she needed to convince her friend of it. But to Louisa, with her experience of male interest being wolf whistled at in the street, fending off unwanted fondling by complete strangers in pubs, and two completely hopeless and selfish boyfriends, it wasn't going to be easy.
It was clear that Louisa's strong emotional connection to her mysterious doctor was only matched in intensity by her own feelings of unworthiness, and that was what frustrated Libby the most. How do you reassure someone with such ridiculously low self confidence when it came to the opposite sex? She'd regarded Louisa sadly. If only she could see herself as others saw her, Libby thought, and she tried to imagine what this Martin bloke might be thinking about her friend. He'd have to be blind not to notice how gorgeous Louisa was, especially since surgeons, she knew, did have a bit of a reputation when it came to women.
She understood that Louisa had had a rotten upbringing even if she didn't ever discuss it. She never ever mentioned her parents and that probably accounted for a lot of her self esteem issues though, other than her haplessness with men, she always stood up for herself and was absolutely determined to make her own way in the world. In fact, she could be really feisty when it came to causes she was passionate about and, though there'd been a few early wobbles, once more boy-related, she was now super-focused on a career, getting good marks and enjoying her coursework. It was her inability to place any value on her own abilities in the eyes of others that really confounded her confident and self-assured friend.
What Libby saw was an unassuming, genuine girl who was kind and empathetic; someone honest and caring who also happened to be great company, spontaneous and always up for a laugh. Even Libby's sometimes hard-to-please mum had adored her, and the Christmas they'd all spent together had been such a lot of fun that the atmosphere at home had been better than she'd remembered it being for a long time. How to make Louisa realise this though? How to make her understand that she should have no qualms about feeling worthy of the attentions of any man she'd found herself attracted to, but more especially the arrogant sod that she seemed to be actually already just a little bit in love with.
She had a flash of discomfort when she considered it was entirely possible that this Martin bloke might not actually be looking much past Louisa's appearance, and the potential repercussions, if that were the case, worried her. Truthfully, Libby felt more than a bit concerned, especially when you considered Louisa's prior history and the fact casual fling didn't seem to be in her vocabulary. Not having met this Martin fellow, and only having Louisa's word as to his character, made her feel just a bit uncomfortable about actively encouraging her friend to pursue a relationship with him. But, despite her qualms, there was one thing Libby was totally convinced about and that was, whoever he was and whatever his ulterior motives, Martin did actually have some feelings for her friend. Whether Louisa believed that, and believed in herself enough to do anything about it, well, that was really only up to her.
Even as the wine had taken effect, Louisa hadn't really become any more forthcoming. Libby had gleaned that something had happened long ago where this Martin fellow had come to her assistance and, even now, it seemed to stand out like a beacon in her memory. Her face had taken on a strange, thoughtful cast, and she'd frowned to herself as her thoughts enveloped her momentarily, before she'd given an imperceptible shake of her head and almost reluctantly returned to the present. Despite Libby's encouragement, Louisa simply wouldn't elaborate any further, and the conversation had progressed, inevitably and importantly in Libby's eyes, to his personality which also seemed to be out of bounds.
"He's just, well, Martin really." Was all she would say, a statement that Libby found unedifying and slightly troubling.
Feeling like she was pulling teeth, Libby did eventually get Louisa to admit that she found him physically very attractive. However, frustratingly, in terms of it being an alcohol-lubricated conversation where much more detail was usually forthcoming, she wouldn't describe him other than to say he had very short blonde hair, grey eyes and he was tall.
Louisa's reticence to talk about him did give Libby pause for thought though. In her experience, Louisa's desire to protect him and not expose him to a critique, even one made in jest, indicated that her feelings were even stronger than she was prepared to own up to. All Libby could do was reiterate her belief that he did in fact have some interest in her and that Louisa should be prepared to do something about it, otherwise it was clear that this painful infatuation would hang over her life forever, like some sort of dense, insidious fog.
When the bottle was empty, they'd hugged and Libby had wandered off to bed, climbing up the stairs to her room on the floor above thinking, a little groggily, that she'd done her absolute best to reassure her friend, but unsure if anything she had said had made a blind bit of difference. Louisa herself had crawled under her thin counterpane, fully clothed, and fallen into a restless sleep, throwing over the covers in the middle of the night and awaking early, parched and vaguely headachy. As the memories of the previous day flooded into her sluggish mind, she felt the familiar pain of the unrequited feelings that had bubbled under the surface for so many years. As her head swam, she experienced an actual physical discomfort such was her sad and helpless longing for something she couldn't even seem to define.
Recalling Libby's incredulous amusement at Louisa's apparent obtuseness brought a faint smile to her face, and her subsequent words of encouragement tumbled woozily into Louisa's head. In her current state of befuddlement, as she replayed the conversation in her mind, it was as if her friends reassurances had somehow seemed to finally find a foothold, despite Louisa's scepticism and self doubt. But, as she lay there, she had never wanted to believe anything more in her life. She was tired of denying the way she felt, and frightened by the realisation that no one else would ever really measure up in comparison with him. Danny had been convenient, and Andrew had been fun but they had both been physical and emotional disasters. How much worse could it be with Martin? If she tried to make something of it and yet it didn't work then perhaps, like so many times before, she could rationalise it and move on, older and wiser and without the terrible and debilitating feeling his distance brought her, and that made her life feel like she were walking in wet cement.
She sat up, looked at herself in the mirror and gave a wan smile. Her end of year exams were three weeks away and then she had yet another summer in London to look forward to. Her flat mates would come and go but she would be resident for the entire time because some details had fallen nicely in to place. Through one of her lecturers she'd secured a lucrative tutoring job for several afternoons a week; the offspring of wealthy professionals, terrified their very young children were already disadvantaged in a competitive world, or concerned at their six year olds potential to pass the onerous examinations required for entry into the best schools.
Through her tutor, there was also the possibility of doing some exam marking for one of the larger prep schools which was money for old rope really. This would certainly help top up her finances which were constantly strained, like all students without wealthy parents and private incomes, relying on the state to educate them. Abandoning her first year party lifestyle had certainly been reflected in this term's improved fiscal position but, if she were honest, it still left a lot to be desired.
There was still a hope that she could use her free time to visit some more museums and galleries, and actually do a few touristy things in her spare time. She'd been in London for two years and, while she had explored her local area thoroughly and knew all the student discounts, late night off-licenses and which chippies delivered the most generous serving size, Louisa really hadn't spent much time experiencing the incredible culture and history that was available to her, and she felt a bit bothered by that.
As she slipped the elastic band from her hair, and began to brush out her unravelling overnight plait, Louisa had an epiphany of sorts. Firstly, if she managed to wake up early enough over the next few weeks she was determined to fit in a few excursions around her tutoring work. She would start after breakfast, and make a list of everywhere she wanted to visit and make a concerted effort to do so.
Despite her enthusiasm for the task of creating an itinerary, she knew though that she was just avoiding the issue that she knew she must finally address, lest it undo her. Reluctantly, she thought about Libby's insistent and vehement exhortations of the previous evening. She paused and gazed at herself critically, reminding herself, as per her friends instruction, to like what she saw and value her own worth.
Lifting her chin, and pushing her fringe out of her eyes, she felt suddenly as if there were just more oxygen in the room. She inhaled deeply, stretching her diaphragm and expanding her lungs before letting out a long, loud, calming breath. Haltingly and, despite her discomfort, she spoke the words out loud, staring hard at her own reflection, as if to challenge herself to resist.
"I will accept that my feelings toward Martin are not hopeless," She said, slowly and deliberately. "And I will remind myself as often as I can that that I am good enough. And I do deserve him."
And, as the words stumbled from her lips, she remembered the glimpse she'd again had of his soft, wide-eyed innocence, and she hoped so very very fervently that her mantra were true.
