Previously on Doc Martin: The Movie: After missing Louisa, Martin unexpectedly ran into her at the movie filming at Wenn Hall and they had an argument. Meanwhile, he has some time on his hands after closing the surgery for two weeks so he could attend the two week course which ended up being cancelled. He is also puzzled by a case of oleander poisoning at Wenn Hall and a possibly similar case afflicting the actress Wynnie Barlow.

Chapter 21: A Ride With Penhale

Tuesday Morning.

Martin peeked out his front door and looked around cautiously. All quiet out on the stone terrace. The rather expensive ultrasonic bird repellent sound system he had installed there last night seemed to have actually worked. He stepped out with his espresso cup to look at the early morning sky over the harbour. It looked like it was shaping up to be a hot, humid day, with some rain clouds moving in from the sea. He sipped leisurely then went back inside and laid out the workings of his current project, restoring the works of a mahogany Regency-style mantel clock.

He laid out the miniature cogs and springs and the tool set and admired how precise they looked. He savoured the anticipation of getting the mechanism running in perfect order again. It made him feel calm and in control. Poised to begin work, he was distracted by thoughts of his encounter with Louisa yesterday.

Martin still couldn't understand that she would so loyally defend her father when the man was so obviously unworthy. Perhaps he shouldn't have come out and called her father a thief that time at the Platt but really it was time she faced facts. After all, Martin knew very well what it was like to have parents that one didn't respect and he had come to accept that reality and move on with his life. But now the idea that Louisa would return home without telling him, and make her first stop a visit to hobnob with a film star she had briefly known years ago rather than coming to see him, it was just disheartening. Should he wait for her apology or try to make it up to her for their argument, and if so how? It was all so messy and confusing. If only more things could be as easy to fix as a clock, life would run like… well, clockwork.

He sighed and picked up a small screwdriver to begin work, then noticed the tool's fine blade tip was chipped. Frustrating. He was always so careful with maintaining and storing his tools. He stared at the tiny flaw in irritation.

There came a knock at the front door. Distracted, Martin put the screwdriver in his pocket and went to answer it. It was P.C. Penhale, with his police van parked right in front of the surgery facing up the hill.

"Hey Doc, I'm not interrupting anything, am I? This whole business about Mr. Wenn being sick has been bothering me. And I'm hearing Wynnie Barlow was sick too. The common denominator in both cases is the housekeeper, Mrs. Daniels, serving them tea. Can't possibly be a coincidence."

"Of course it could be a coincidence," Martin retorted. "Two people could have gastrointestinal symptoms independent of each other. Then there was the dog that died, probably of old age. Unlikely it would have drunk any tea."

Penhale seemed disappointed at having this pointed out. He scratched his head a moment and pondered.

"Well, I reckon you could be right, Doc, but there's still the possibility there's a crime wave taking place right under our noses. So I'm heading up to Mrs. Daniels's cottage on the moor to have a spontaneous interview with her. My sources tell me it's her day off and I want to surprise her, so she doesn't have time to work on a story. D'you want to come? You could keep me company on the ride." His brown eyes were eager for Martin's approval.

Martin scowled.

"Been taking my narcolepsy medication," Penhale assured him. "I'm OK to drive now."

Martin's first instinct, as always when dealing with Penhale, or really almost anyone in the village, was to say "no," and certainly the prospect of keeping the policeman company didn't make the trip any more appealing. He stopped himself, thinking he had his own vague suspicions about the housekeeper and it was possible she was unintentionally making people sick with her herbal remedies so it might be worth having a talk with her. And after all, he did have a lot of time on his hands as surgery was still cancelled for the fortnight. So he surprised himself by saying "yes."

The drive proved longer than he had expected. Mrs. Daniels lived down a long rural road, in an area Martin had never been before. He was happy to ride in silence but Penhale insisted on chattering.

"It's great to be back around here again. Getting to see old friends, renewing old acquaintances. I didn't grow up right here in the village, I was out by Wadebridge, went to Wadebridge School with Jago Powell. He lived here for a while as a teenager, don't know if you know that. He was in the same form as my brother Sam. Louisa Glasson was in my form. Hadn't seen Louisa in years. Ran into her at the film shoot at Wenn Hall yesterday."

Penhale took on a confiding tone. "She seemed a bit interested in me. Kept asking if I was OK. I confirmed that she's not married, doesn't have an actual boyfriend, and has no kids - other than the ones at her school, I mean."

"Hm," Martin replied, doubtful that Louisa's interest was anything more than inquiring about Penhale's mental health. He wondered if he should be concerned that Louisa said she didn't have an actual boyfriend.

"She went out with Sam a time or two back in those days, nothing serious. I always rather fancied her myself, but there seems to be a spark rekindling with her and Jago. Who can blame her? He was just named Entertainment Weekly's 'Entertainer of the Year.'"

Martin was already regretting he had agreed to go for this ride.

"On the other hand, I reckon Jago's got his problems. He's been through rehab a few times, and he still got nicked for drink driving last year."

"He seemed rather insistent the other day that he hadn't been drinking when he was stopped," Martin countered.

"I read the arrest report, Doc. The charges were dropped because the breathalyser was negative and within an hour he seemed normal again, but he was acting impaired when P.C. Mylow pulled him over. If Jago wasn't actually pissed he must have been on something, doesn't take a rocket surgeon to see that."

"Hm." This was too nonsensical for Martin to say anything more.

They rode in welcome silence for a minute or two, but Penhale couldn't keep quiet for long.

"Saw you chatting with Louisa yesterday. Didn't seem like you two were getting on too well. Not everybody appreciates your, uh, forthright manner, Doc."

"How much farther is it?" Martin blurted out.

"Getting there, hold your horses." Penhale was quieted by the outburst, but not for long. "So Louisa and her Dad were also involved in the incident with the mental patient at the surgery."

"Er, yes they were."

"I almost envy you Doc, living through a drama like that, facing down an armed psycho. What's it like to have a loaded gun pointed at you? When you survive that do you feel, like, truly alive for the first time in your life?"

If possible, Martin was now even more alarmed by the turn the conversation was taking. How could he possibly respond to that? What was it like looking down the barrel of a shotgun, knowing your next breath could be your last and you had absolutely no control over it? It's not exhilarating or thrilling, he thought. Having the grim truth of your mortality shoved in your face like that just leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

"Hm. I advise against the experience," was all he could bring himself to say.

Fortunately, just then they found into the turnoff for the cottage.

To be continued…