Previously on Doc Martin: The Movie: Pauline is still dealing with the after effects of being held hostage and threatened by Crazy Jonathan. Despite her mother's negativity, she was cheered up by the idea of auditioning to be an extra in the movie being filmed in Portwenn, however she and Bert didn't get a part. Instead Al, who wasn't even interested in auditioning, gets cast. Pauline had been angry at Al for not posting her university application, but now she finds feelings have changed.
Chapter 20:
Reception Chickie and Plumber Boy
Monday evening.
"Hand me the colander, luv. It's right there in back of you."
Pauline looked up from the newspaper crossword she had been staring at, and turned around to grab the metal basket lying atop a pile of dishtowels on the counter. She held it up to the light for a moment, looking at the circular pattern of holes punched in it, before handing it over to Bert.
"Thanks. The pasta will be ready in just a tick," he said.
"Funny, you being such a good cook Bert, when Al can't tell a colander from a… well, a sieve," she remarked. Bert just laughed.
Pauline couldn't concentrate on the half finished puzzle. The sound of Jonathan's threat came back to her, "tick tock, tick tock… either you do it, or I make a colander out of Reception Chickie." She guessed at an answer, then furiously erased it, wrote another one, then erased that too. The sound of the kitchen clock behind her suddenly seemed unnaturally loud.
She chewed on the pencil end and stared as Bert selected a chef's knife and laid it against a whetstone on the counter top, expertly sliding the blade edge across the rough stone over and over. The scraping set her nerves on edge. Then he finished it off with a honing steel, rinsed and dried it, and held it up to admire the gleam on the razor-sharp edge. He took the rinsed salad greens from the colander and quickly sliced them up. Then he hacked up a cucumber. Finally, he took a ripe red tomato and plunged the blade deep into it. Juice and seeds oozed out. She shuddered at the sight.
Pauline felt hot and short of breath, just like when she was riding in the Doc's car, sitting in back next to crazy Jonathan with Louisa on the other side. It was uncomfortably quiet, with the nutter there clutching his shotgun, and uncomfortably hot with the three of them wedged together in the back seat, and she didn't have the nerve then to press the window button or ask the Doc to turn on the AC.
She got up and opened the kitchen window, as Bert concentrated on mixing up the vinaigrette. The cooling salty breeze was a relief, just like when the Lexus had reached the sea cliff and they all got out. The sea breeze seemed to calm everyone down a bit. Jonathan ignored her then, focusing on coercing the Doc into climbing down the cliff to where Al was with the baker and the contraband. Pauline remembered she had never felt so relieved to be ignored by someone.
"Where's Plumber Boy?" Jonathan had demanded.
It was still chaotic though, what with the Colonel demanding to know what was going on? Why did that man have his gun? What was this about explosives? And then the Doc was wanting to know the condition of the Baker.
"The Baker! The Colonel! Do these people have no names? What's going on here?" Jonathan exclaimed. And yet he couldn't be bothered to know her name, even as he had threatened her life, dismissing her only as Reception Chickie.
But the nutter couldn't ignore the Plumber Boy, Al, who had climbed freehand up the rugged cliff from the sea with a bag of explosives slung over his back. Oblivious as Al was to his deadly cargo, even with the fate of the nutter's hostages depending on him, he had stopped to help when he saw a man in trouble and then to assist the Doc in a delicate operation in a less than ideal situation. Courage is grace under pressure, Pauline knew some writer had said that, and she knew Al Large had shown courage in spades.
Six Across: "The ability to encounter danger with a steadfast and unbroken spirit." Seven letters. She firmly wrote in "A-L-L-A-R-G-E" and pushed the puzzle aside.
She had once thought Al sabotaging her plan to go to university was unforgivable but now she felt ready to forgive him anything. Looking around her, the Large household seemed painfully lacking in a woman's touch. There were heaps of clothing and papers everywhere and the faded pink sofa looked like someone had rescued it from the side of the road. Al and his widowed father had fallen into bachelor mode since dear old Mrs. Large had passed away so many years before. Pauline thought if she moved in she could really do a lot with the place.
"Well, if it isn't Portwenn's newest star of the silver screen," Bert greeted his son as Al walked in the door. "What did they have you doin' all day, boy? An extra is just part of the scenery, after all. Go on, set the table."
"They spent a few hours getting' me done up by the makeup artist and pickin' out clothes for me," Al explained, as he put out the plates. "Then I spent most of the day standin' around, waitin' for them to be ready for my scene. I was just supposed to be standin' behind Jago Powell's character, polishin' the vintage motorcar. But then the director heard me talkin' to Lorna Gillet, thought I had a 'real Cornish sound' to my voice, and decided I could say a few lines too. So I'm getting' paid more."
"That's great, Al!" Pauline was thrilled.
"Yeah, great." Bert was sarcastic. "Don't be so chuffed, boy. While you're out hobnobbin' with movie stars I have to pick up the slack with the plumbing business. You know I ended up havin' to fix the toilet at the Village Hall."
"I'm gettin' paid more for this than what you pay me. I don't have to put my hands into anybody's toilet either. The thing about extras," Al went on as he put out the forks, knives, and glasses, "is you have to be able to pay attention and follow directions, even if it means doin' the same thing over and over for take after take. And it's not true that they don't act, but you have to be subtle. If there's an extra on screen who isn't being true to the scene or overactin' or something the audience would notice right away."
"It's really been an education for you, then," Pauline said.
"This actin' game is a bit of a doddle though, innit," Bert retorted. "Poncin' around in makeup and fancy dress and all. We all know that, I'm just sayin' it out loud."
"You didn't say that when you were in the Portwenn Players," Al responded. "Anyway, it's nice work if you can get it, and I got it and you… don't!"
"Yeah, well dinner's ready. Serve yourself, Sir Allen Olivier." Bert plunked the bowls of spaghetti and salad onto the table unceremoniously and plopped himself into a chair. They began to eat in uncomfortable silence.
"So, Paul, how did the first day of your holiday go?" Al sought to break the silence. "I heard the Lifeboat crew was havin' trainin' at Roscarrock Bay today, that must have kept you busy."
"I quit the lifeboats," she said.
"What? But you worked so hard to pass the trainin'!"
"Yeah I know, but my Mum's always going on at me about how dangerous it is, racing out into storms and all in those little boats. I just, I just need a break from danger for a while, after… you know."
More awkward silence.
"Well, we've been havin' some lovely weather lately," Al tried again. "Feels like summer could last into October if it keeps going like this."
A safe topic having been introduced, the tension eased a bit and Pauline was able to enjoy the food more. Afterward, Bert took off for the pub and she and Al were left alone to clean up.
"Well, you don't have to worry about me leaving Portwenn any more," she said. "The nursing program turned me down. I'm just going to be Reception Chickie for the rest of my life."
She thought he would be happy at the thought that she was staying but her words just seemed to make him sad. He put down the plate he was drying and put his arm around her. "I don't like to see you givin' up on things, Paul."
"I'm not, I'm just learning to appreciate what I have here. I've got a good job with the Doc, looks like he'll be sticking around. And this old village isn't so bad after all."
"Well, there's this masked ball they're havin', down on the Platt. They're plannin' on settin' up a tent because the Village Hall won't hold everybody. Somethin' different in this old village, anyway." He put the dried plates away.
"I just can't see you in fancy dress Al, no matter what Bert says about acting. Like that time all the surfers had a party at Ross's place, remember that? Elaine and me were there, she was the Wicked Witch of the West and I was a naughty nurse, if you can believe it. We spent hours on our costumes. And there you were, you came as yourself."
"Actually, I was the Ninth Doctor. I had the black T-shirt and jeans and the black leather coat."
"You just put on some clothes you already had, and the black coat wasn't even real leather as I recall and it was more of a jacket than a coat." She smiled at the memory.
"Well, I did have the haircut right, didn't I. There, even just rememberin' about that cheered you up."
"But for a masked ball you have to put in some effort on the costume. And you have to wear a mask."
"See, that's the part I don't get," he said. "Why a mask?"
"I suppose maybe it makes people more uninhibited. When the mask goes up their guard goes down."
"I don't think I have a guard."
She smiled again. "No, Al Large, I don't suppose you do. What you see is what you get with you. People aren't supposed to go as a couple to the ball anyway. You're not supposed to know who everybody is."
"Well, do you want to go then?"
"I dunno. It'll be loud and crowded. Don't think I'm up for loud and crowded lately."
"What if I just take you for some pizza and the movies over in Delabole that night? You're always sayin' we never go out. Jago Powell's latest is playin' at the multiplex there. Now that I'm workin' with him I kinda want to see him on screen. You know, study his actin' technique and all."
That actually made her laugh out loud.
"There you go," Al said. "You're feelin' better already."
To be continued…
Notes: A doddle is something very easy, a piece of cake.
The Ninth Doctor is of course from Doctor Who, the Christopher Eccleston incarnation.