Chapter 34: Dedicated. Endearing. Frustrating.

Saturday Midday

With the rain pattering against the window, Louisa sat at her laptop on the kitchen table and read through the Portwenn local news section of The Cornish Echo website. To think, Rachel Wenn's boat was found at last! And if that wasn't strange enough, there was adulterated punch at the ball! By the time she was done she was shaking her head in amazement.

So Martin was right that something was wrong with the punch, she thought. It was lucky that neither she nor Jago had tried any. Who knows what sort of embarrassing situation they could have gotten themselves into in public. She sighed. Martin was indeed very busy last night. It was so typical of him to put his duties as the village GP ahead of personal concerns. She admired that about him of course, but still it could be frustrating.

Louisa thought back to a time that felt so long ago now, when the village was celebrating Harbour Day. She had come up with a costume to match the eye patch she had to wear after being diagnosed with acute glaucoma and she was just starting to warm up to the man who had first noticed her condition.

"Your diagnosis was right," she said to Martin. "They got me on drops."

"What?" He had trouble hearing her over the music blaring and the festivities.

"They got me on drops!"

"Oh, they're beta blockers," he replied. "It should clear up within a couple of weeks. If not, go and see your doctor."

"I would but I got off to a bad start with him." She smiled.

"No, your doctor's a profess… Oh, am I your doctor?"

"Yeah. I should have told you I lived in Portwenn. So how are you finding us?"

"Irritating." He paused to modify his brutally honest opinion. "Apart from the primary school teacher, who's a pirate it seems."

She was just beginning to notice how… well, endearing he could be. "You know you're not at all like I thought you were. You're actually really rather - "

He abruptly noticed something behind her. "I've got to go. Colonel! I wanted a word with you about your…" He ran off.

Yes, dedicated, endearing, and frustrating. That was Martin. She gave a deep sigh. Surely things had settled down now and he could have contacted her today. She checked her email. Nothing. Of course, she could call him. No, she wasn't ready to do that, she couldn't bear the thought of Martin brushing her off again, not so soon after her quarrel with Jago.

The rain showed no sign of letting up. Stuck inside, she decided to do some housework to take her mind off the situation. She went through the kitchen, giving every surface a thorough clean. Then she swept and mopped the floor, all the while thinking how the ball was just a memory now, her princess gown was packed away again, and she was back to being the everyday Cinderella who did the dirty work around the house.

Once satisfied everything was tidy, she rewarded herself with a quick cup of tea and a chocolate digestive. She checked her email again. Nothing. She had a quick thought, maybe she had left her mobile on mute. She fished it out of her handbag to check. No, it wasn't muted and the volume was turned up sufficiently. No messages, no voice mail.

No point in moping about. The next task she set herself was dusting the living room. As she went about wiping the thin grey layer off the lamps and various knickknacks, she stopped at the little end table by the sofa to pick up a small framed photo she had had for years.

It was a particular favourite of hers, taken with the little camera Dad had given her for her 16th birthday. He took her on a birthday road trip to Tintagel Castle, knowing her love of Arthurian legend, and she took a photo of him on the bridge from the mainland to Tintagel Island. She studied the picture. He looked so much younger then, his scruffy beard not yet turned white, and a playful twinkle in his eye as he looked straight into the camera and brandished a souvenir plastic sword with theatrical emphasis. For once he hadn't disappointed her by forgetting her birthday and they had so much fun together that day.

Now, looking at the photo with fresh eyes, she realized the little camera she had treasured, and which he claimed to have gotten for a bargain from a mate in the photography business, was likely stolen goods. She sighed again.

Louisa wiped the silver frame clean of dust and suddenly noticed that the colours were faded and a few tiny mildew spots were developing under the glass. She really should dig out the negative and have a fresh new print made, but it looked like the frame had a slight dent in it and one corner was coming loose. Suddenly she felt so tired, even the simple chore of reprinting the photo and finding a new frame seemed like too much effort. She opened a drawer in the end table and put the photo away, out of sight for good.

Her mobile chirped. She rushed over to the kitchen table to check it. A text! It wasn't from Martin at all but from Jago. "Sorry we quarrelled, picnic with you my fondest teen memory of Portwenn, let's do it again for old time's sake." He had included emojis of a bouquet of flowers, a picnic hamper, and a smiley face.

She smiled and rang his number.

"Louisa! I'm so glad you're still willing to talk to me."

Even though it had been only a few hours since they had been together, she felt a thrill hearing the low, warm tones of his voice again. "Well, I didn't want us to part on bad terms," she said. "It was such a magical night, I'd hate to spoil the memory, especially since you won't be here in Portwenn much longer."

"I'll be here a while yet, but I do have to go to New York for a few days to take care of some urgent business. In fact, I'm heading to Newquay Airport right now. The production can continue on without me, Wynnie has a bunch of scenes to get through. What d'you say about a picnic on the cliffs Thursday?"

"I'd love it. Thursday is good for me, I have some work to catch up with in the meantime getting the school ready for the new term. Call me when you get back."

They rang off and Louisa felt better than she had all day. She sat down at the laptop again and checked The Cornish Echo for any local news updates, then checked her email again. Then she clicked over to a celebrity gossip site, indulging a guilty pleasure to reward herself for getting the housework done.

"Oh Baby! Jago Powell Fights Paternity Suit! Ex-Vogue Model Names Him as Reluctant Baby Daddy" read the bright red headline at the top of the page. Aghast, Louisa couldn't help but click on it.

Jago Powell slams claim he fathered former model's baby after whirlwind romance. Powell was spotted spending time in New York's luxury retreat Hamptonswith Lesley Larson last year. Larson, 26, had appeared on the covers of the most exclusive fashion magazines as a teenager and walked the runway for Chanel and Christian Dior. Addicted to heroin during her modelling years, she became known for all night heavy partying that brought an end to her career. After a series of stints in rehab alternating with arrests for driving under the influence, she attempted to reinvent herself as an actress, appearing in a string of unsuccessful low budget horror movies. Lesley recently gave birth to a baby boy and is suing Powell for child support. The Oscar winner, who is nine years her senior, is insisting on a paternity test. Powell is currently filming a movie in Cornwallwith Wynnie Barlowe, and reportedly was behind Barlowe's impending break-up with rock star hubbie Carl Michaels.

Louisa had read enough. She closed the website, shut down the laptop, and sighed once again.

To be continued…