Chapter 2

First in this morning was Florence Dingley, an animal lover with a penchant for being mauled by her cats. Martin was forever telling her to get rid of them, but she was very stubborn and point blank refused. "Mrs Dingley, have you got rid of those pestilent creatures, yet?"

In her whining voice (itself guaranteed to grate on his nerves) she told him, "Where would I get rid of them? The RSPCA would just put them down. I can't do that!" Privately Martin thought it would be no bad outcome.

"What is the problem today then, Mrs Dingley?"

"It's me eyesight. I can't see very well, now." She took off her glasses which promptly fell to bits on his desk.

"If you spent less on those animals, you would be able to afford a new pair," Martin told her. He took out his opthalmoscope to examine her eyes more thoroughly. Her pupils contracted normally as the light hit them. Her lenses didn't look cloudy and there were no obvious defects to her retinas.

"I suggest you go to your optician and ask for a sight test. They will tell you if you need a new spectacles prescription."

"They cost a lot of money, and what will I do about feeding my animals?" she whined. "Can't you issue me with a prescription for them?"

"No, I can't. This requires the attention of an optician and I'm afraid if they determine you need a new pair of spectacles, then you will have to buy some. If your vision is affected, to carry on using your old pair would be quite dangerous," he explained. "Was there anything else?"

"Fine Doctor you are, not prescribing me with what I need!" With that parting shot she slammed her smelly hat back onto her head, and left the room.

His next patient was a mother with her daughter. "Mrs Williams, what is the matter with your daughter?"

"She keeps pulling and scratching her ear. She's been doing it since last Sunday. I've had a look at it but I can't see anything, other than the scratch marks of course."

"What's her name?" asked Martin.

"Chloe"

"Chloe, I'm going to use this light to have a look in your ear. Hold your hand out." Martin picked up his otoscope.

When the little girl held her hand out Martin shone the light onto her hand. "Did that hurt, Chloe?"

Chloe shook her head. "It won't hurt when I look in your ear, either. OK?"

He tilted the girl's head and looked into the ear canal. He could see a blockage, identifying it as a wax crayon. It was quite a way into the canal. He moved around to look in Chloe's other ear and was satisfied it was clear.

Speaking to Mrs Williams he explained about the crayon and said he would use some forceps to remove it. "Can you hold her head still whilst I do the procedure? It's important that she doesn't move, but sometimes it tickles and the patient jerks away." Mrs Williams nodded and pulled Chloe more securely into her lap.

"Keep still, Chloe," Martin said as he gently put the forceps into the ear canal. Chloe tried to move away, but she was held fast in her mother's arms. Eventually, Martin succeeded in getting a grip on the crayon and managed to pull it out. Chloe burst into tears.

He had another look into the ear and was satisfied he'd got it all out. "I don't think she'll have any more problems with that ear, but if she does, come back and see me. Above all, don't let her continue scratching at it, or poke anything else into it!"

"Thank you, Doctor. I'll make sure she doesn't." Mrs Williams and her daughter left the surgery.

Pauline told him that his next patient had cancelled their appointment and the one after hadn't yet arrived.

"Right, Pauline – I'll go and get a coffee while I wait." Martin went to the kitchen and began brewing a cup of espresso. As he stood waiting for it to come to the boil his mind wandered to the extraordinary news, they'd had that morning.

Louisa had asked him how he felt about it? So, how did he feel? Numb, excited, frightened, awed and a number of other nameless emotions coursed through him. He was half-hoping that the test was wrong, but then the other half of him desperately wanted it to be right! He knew it was Louisa's dearest wish, to have children, but the logical side of him was deeply uncertain.

What if he couldn't be a father? Did he even know what it meant to be a husband? The example shown by his parents was abysmal, and he was terrified he would repeat the pattern with his child. Countless examples of the things he lacked, to be of the required standard, were thrown at him on every occasion. If not by his ghastly parents, then by his teachers or peers at boarding school.

His hands shook a little as he picked up his coffee, before taking it back to his office.