When Louisa got home from Ruth's, she didn't fetch James Henry straight away. Instead she ran a bath brimming with bubbles and sank into it, as if by lying there she could wash away the overwhelming feeling of sadness and guilt that forced the tears to flow again and again.

Ruth's words came at her like a runaway truck, slamming into her heart and making her sob all over again, Every time you've hit a wobble in your relationship, you've left him and taken his son with you. Her lips trembled again. Do you think Martin would ever leave you? Louisa knew without a doubt Martin would never do that. But why had she done it to him? Was Ruth's reading of her correct? Did she leave every time she felt Martin slipping away from her because she subconsciously feared he would leave first?

Her thoughts drifted back to the time her mother had left home, supposedly to go on holiday with friends. Two weeks turned into two months and then into six but her father had made light of it. "Your Mum is having a little break. She'll be home soon enough, so don't go worrying your pretty head about anything." But she hadn't come home. Instead she'd met someone there in sunny Spain and broke the news in a postcard that she wouldn't be coming back. You can come over for a holiday anytime, she'd said. Louisa had been devastated. In her mind, she hadn't been important enough to her mother - she'd chosen someone else over her own daughter. Louisa had been twelve and it felt like her world had fallen apart.

Her father had stayed but she had no doubt in her mind that his trips to the race course to bet on the horses or his evenings in the pub took precedence over her. She was often left alone for days at a time and soon learned not to rely on him for anything. There was never any money - not that it stopped her father from playing the horses. Her teen years were some of the loneliest of her life. If it weren't for some of the villagers, like Aunty Joan, bringing her produce from the farm or a cooked meal from time to time, Louisa would have lived on toast and whatever could be put on it.

And then the ultimate catastrophe had occurred when her father had been accused of stealing money collected for the Lifeboat Station. He'd hotly denied it, but had eventually told her that he had to leave the village for a while 'just until things calmed down a bit'. She'd been old enough to look after herself while he was gone, as long as he paid the rent. But he too had never come back. She hadn't been important enough to him either.

During that time she'd become fiercely independent and her years of studying in London had made her even more so. She'd established herself as a good teacher, and after some years she'd come back to Portwenn. And she'd met Martin.

From the start there had been sparks between them. She'd been fascinated by his confident, suave and enigmatic manner and there'd been a powerful physical attraction which, as time went on, Martin seemed unable to act on. But she had.

She smiled as she remembered the day they were driving back from Truro Hospital in a taxi and she'd kissed him with all the pent up passion she felt for him and he had surprised her with a deeply sensuous response. So he wasn't incapable of physical passion, he was just afraid of showing emotional vulnerability, an aspect of his make-up that had been present throughout their rocky relationship and still threatened to derail everything from time to time.

She'd always attributed the cause of the breakdown in their relationship to Martin's inability to meet her emotional needs in one way or another. He didn't seem to notice even the most basic cues. And she needed him to. She was frustrated by his remoteness and he drove her crazy when he turned everything into an on-the-spot medical diagnosis or lecture. But she realised now that that was just who he was; he did it to everyone. It is to medicine he retreats when he feels insecure or threatened.

Ruth had made her realise that subconsciously she was interpreting Martin's detachment as a form of abandonment. Was it though? She knew that if she was in need and called Martin now, he would drop everything and come to her. Well maybe not right now, he was understandably upset and humiliated. But she wanted to set him straight on that score.

She dressed in a soft, pale green floral dress and a white cardigan, tying her hair in a high ponytail. Her tears had left her eyes looking a little puffy and she hoped a touch of makeup would hide it. When she was ready she'd go to the surgery and she would talk to Martin and tell him how much she loved him and she'd ask if she and James could come back. They'd find a way forward. They had to.

Feeling a bit better, she put on her coat and went by Janice's to fetch James. He had been fed and bathed and she could have kissed Janice. Then with James tucked up warmly in his pram, she began the steep walk up Roscarrock Hill to the surgery.

Martin's car was not in the off-street parking bay when she approached and she hoped he wouldn't be long, wherever he was. She went round the side of the house and knocked on the kitchen door, just in case he was there. There was no answer, so she tried the door and it opened. Inside, as she would have expected, the kitchen was tidy – not a thing out of place, only an espresso cup and saucer in the draining rack to show that he'd been in the kitchen at all.

James seemed to recognize where he was and began to fidget, twisting his little head back and forth, looking for his daddy. Louisa picked him up, cuddling him against her shoulder as she walked into the sitting room. "Daddy will be home soon darling."

Martin's medical journals were piled neatly on the coffee table. She smiled and bent to touch them, then gave herself a mental shake. "Stop acting like a lovesick schoolgirl!"

Back in the kitchen she settled James in his pram and gave him a bottle. It was after six and Martin would probably want his supper as soon as he came in. She got up and went to inspect the contents of the fridge, quickly assessing what ingredients she could use to concoct a simple meal for him. She could make a decent salad with what she found and there was some leftover grilled chicken. That would do.

She set the table then, taking the pram, went back into the sitting room. When she was sure that James was nice and cosy under his blankets, she flopped onto the couch, resting her head against the back of it. Her tears had made her sleepy and predictably, her eyelids began to droop.

ooooOOOOoooo

Martin pulled his Lexus into the parking space next to the surgery. It was just on 8 pm and he was exhausted. Apart from having had almost no sleep the night before, he'd had a full day of consultations and then a stressful and physically taxing rescue situation on the outskirts of the village. His proximity to the scene had meant that he was the first medic to arrive at the place where a head-on collision had occurred in one of the narrow lanes. There'd been five victims. Two were beyond help and died before he could do anything for them. The others were a woman, probably in her thirties, a girl of about four or five and a male in his fifties. All were critical.

Penhale had been there too but instead of being his usual bumbling self, he'd surprised Martin and actually listened to what he'd been asked to do and then carried it out flawlessly. Within forty minutes the air ambulance had arrived and the most serious of the victims were airlifted to Truro Hospital.

Martin had been about to get up from where he'd been kneeling next to the woman he was attending to. She'd been trying to speak so Martin leaned forward to tell her to rest but she lifted her hand and took hold of his arm in a surprisingly strong grip.

"My baby…my…baby," she whispered.

He spoke clearly and firmly, "Your...baby...is going to be alright. She has been airlifted to Truro Hospital. You can see her soon."

"No…nooooo," she moaned, "my baby…my son…"

Her son? The child that had been airlifted had been female. Martin jumped to his feet. "Penhale!...Pen-hale!"

The policeman came running up, "Yes Doc?"

"Penhale, I think a baby might have been flung from this car," he said pointing at the car nearest to them. "The woman has been asking for her baby son. We've got to find him."

"Right you are Doc," he said and turned his powerful flashlight towards the grassy verge. Soon everyone who could be spared was searching and after about five minutes a shout went up. "Here Doc…over here!"

Martin ran as fast as he could a little way down the lane and into a ditch. The baby had been found still strapped into a well padded carry cot and at first glance didn't appear to have a mark on him but Martin knew that that could be deceiving. He knelt in the muddy grass and put his fingers on the baby's neck. At first he felt nothing. 'Oh…please no'. He shifted his fingers slightly, searching for a pulse…and there it was, regular and reasonably strong. 'Thank God'.

The baby was warm and breathing but drowsy, but whether that was from exhaustion or something else was impossible to tell. His cries had probably gone unnoticed with the noise of the rescue operation all around. Martin decided to leave the child in the carry cot rather than move him, as he could not ascertain if any internal injuries were present.

He watched as the medics took the baby to the waiting ambulance, then he turned away, his shoulders slumped as he looked at the carnage in the lane. Two people would never be going home again. In a split second, two families had been torn apart and nothing would ever be the same again.

He thought of James and Louisa and his heart constricted in his chest. A wave of panic washed over him as he envisioned a life without them. The thought was unbearable. His only consolation as he looked at the mangled cars under the emergency floodlights in the narrow lane was that they weren't gone forever - unlike the father of the young family or the wife of the man in the other car. Their loved ones would never see them again. He closed his eyes for a moment. Oh God.

A nasal voice jolted him out of his dark thoughts.

"Alright there, Doc?"

He looked up to see Penhale peering at him quizzically.

"Yes…"

The policeman hitched his duty belt a little higher on his hips and looked around. "Bit of a mess eh Doc? Goes to show...you never know when your number's up."

Martin gave a deep sigh. The last thing he needed was Penhale's brand of conversation. "I'm done here." He started to walk away then stopped and turned, the flashing lights from the emergency vehicles reflecting on his face. "Ah...thank you Penhale."

The policeman smiled broadly. "Say no more Doc...the Dynamic Duo in action, eh?"

Oh God…

Martin shook his head groggily and realized he was still sitting in his car outside the surgery. He'd been in a kind of exhausted stupor. He dreaded going into the dark, quiet house but he dragged his tired body out of the car, leaned in to get his medical bag and closed the door. All he wanted now was a hot shower and bed...but more than anything, what he really wanted, was to know that his family was safe inside, waiting for him. But that wasn't to be.

He gave a deep sigh and trudged slowly around the side of the house.

ooooOOOOoooo