Chapter 4 – [1]
Several evenings after the school board meeting Louisa offered to host the "No King's Mart in Portwenn" advocacy committee. The previous gathering had taken place at Beth Holmes' house and Louisa felt it was her turn. She also hoped that Arthur Davis could have a good conversation with Martin. While she had long since accepted the fact that Martin was not really interested in socializing and spending time with friends, Louisa still felt it would be nice for Martin to have someone to talk to other than herself and Ruth. Arthur was a very intelligent, highly educated man who could converse with Martin on a whole host of issues, and he actually appeared to like Martin's blunt honesty, which was an unexpected boon.
Predictably Martin planned to spend his time getting the children to bed, and then working on a clock in his consulting room. He really did not want to get involved in the "No King's Mart in Portwenn" effort, but he was still chagrined about not feeling the same way as Louisa on this issue, he did not like that uncomfortable distance between them.
Louisa had a little surprise in store for Martin, however. She had been talking to Ruth about the committee and had found that the old lady was herself quite opposed to the hypermarket. While Ruth could not be termed a local any more than Martin, she had indeed invested a considerable amount in the B&B at her sister Joan's old farm. Ruth thought that much of the success of the B&B and local tourist business in general was based on Portwenn's ability to preserve the look and feel of an old, small port town surrounded by a gloriously beautiful and unspoiled coast. A big hypermarket so close to the village wouldn't do. Thus Louisa had invited Martin's aunt to join the committee and attend the meeting, and Ruth had gladly accepted Louisa's invitation.
The Ellinghams' dinner was concluded by 19:30, with the kitchen table cleared and cleaned and the dishwasher softly rumbling in the background. Martin had gone upstairs with the children and attended their nightly routines, including the reading of books for both children, with Joanie falling asleep earlier and faster than James, as usual. Martin came downstairs a little before nine o'clock, and was about to sneak into his consulting room when he recognized, without chance of doubt, his aunt's voice saying: "The village meeting that King's Mart is organizing is more important than you seem to realize. Not all of Portwenn is behind us. Yet. Some are being captivated by the siren song of King's Mart jobs. Never mind the fact that those are poorly paid and frequently part-time jobs, it's just the word "jobs" that threatens to weaken our campaign." This speech, and his aunt's obvious addition to the committee, piqued Martin's interest, so he decided to go to the kitchen on a pretext of making some tea.
When Martin appeared at the kitchen door he was greeted by several voices at once with:
"Hello, Martin," "Evening Doctor," "Hello Doc!" "Hi love," this last from Louisa who was pleasantly surprised to see him. It saved her the effort to drag him from his clock. The "Hi love" did not go unheeded either, as Martin caught his wife's eye and gave her the tiniest nod, which coming from him in public was equivalent to a "Hi love" back.
Martin saw that besides the core anti-King's Mart committee, Louisa, Arthur, Beth and Al, and besides Ruth, Morwenna was also present. He wondered whether that meant Al and Morwenna had made up, though they did not look particularly happy.
"I see you have had tea. I am going to put the kettle on again, if anyone wants more…" said Martin.
A chorus of "yes, thank you," followed this and Martin busied himself at the counter.
"So Ruth, you think we should prepare a sort of counter-attack at the village meeting?" asked Louisa.
"I'm sure we have to," replied Ruth. "I hear they'll offer free drinks at the pub, so half the town will be there. Ms. Williams will deliver a forceful presentation, no doubt. It's the best opportunity to rebut their arguments in public, with a large audience."
Ruth noticed that at the mention of Ms. Williams' name Louisa's face had darkened.
"Anything wrong?" asked Ruth.
"No, Ms. Williams is just such a…minx!"
"What?"
"Oh, she's using any means to get people on King's Mart side. She throws money around and, I might add, uses her amazing looks on all the men!... She also has a fundraising plan for the school… and I don't," concluded Louisa with a rather disconsolate expression.
A brief silence followed that.
Martin cleared his voice: "The fundraising for the school is a different issue, and I'm sure Louisa will find a solution… But I think Ruth is right, to a number of villagers the opening of a hypermarket nearby may not sound so bad. Young unemployed people will see an opportunity there."
"That," intervened Arthur, "is an opportunity they'll have just as much if the hypermarket is farther removed from the coast and Portwenn, and closer to Wadebridge. They can certainly travel closer to Wadebridge for a job, can't they?"
"Well, that would be a point in your favor," conceded Martin.
"A point we will be sure to make, doctor," said Arthur grinning. "Have you any other arguments in support of the hypermarket that we can learn to rebut?"
"An obvious one you cannot rebut very well, I suspect: convenience," replied Martin. "The hypermarket would include a wide variety of goods in one place, all very near to us. People would no longer need to travel to Wadebridge, or further, to purchase a number of items which are not available here."
Louisa was amazed by Martin's eloquence: Martin's five sentences were tantamount to any other person's half-hour speech. Somehow Arthur's friendly lure seemed to be working on the usually reticent doctor.
"That is a good point, and one we do have to be able to speak against," replied Arthur. "One consideration comes to mind: we'd be trading shopping convenience for traffic congestion in and out of the village. How long do you take to drive to Wadebridge now?"
"About twenty minutes generally."
"The drive from say… the pub to the proposed location is five minutes with no traffic, but definitely more with traffic," calculated Arthur. "The alternate location we will propose at the Parish Council meeting is closer to Wadebridge and a fifteen minute drive, approximately. About ten minute difference. A ten minute convenience is not worth killing all the local business, yet that ten minute difference may be just what we need to keep the local stores open."
"The land proposed by King's Mart is considerably cheaper than the location you suggest closer to Wadebridge," replied Martin, the devil's advocate.
"Well, we cannot concern ourselves with that. King's Mart has a lot of money to invest, that will be their concern."
"They might threaten not to bring a hypermarket in the area at all," commented Martin.
"Good, their loss," concluded Arthur.
Martin gave Arthur a long look and almost a tiny smile: "Mr. Davids…"
"Davis," said Arthur, "and you should call me Arthur… Martin?"
"Fine, Arthur. I am pleased to see your cognitive powers have not been impaired."
"Some days are better than others, Martin. I do like it when someone keeps me sharp." Arthur was smiling broadly now: maybe they would never get Martin to agree with their campaign, but he certainly was not against it either. He seemed mostly concerned with the hard facts of the case, as opposed to sentimental reasons for keeping the local economy alive. And hard facts were what they needed, what would win them this battle. Thus Martin was helping, whether he realized it or not. Judging by Ruth's lopsided grin, she had just made the same consideration, though she was wisely silent about it.
"So… Morwenna, is it?" asked Arthur, changing the subject.
"Yes, Morwenna Newcross."
"Morwenna, Louisa tells me you offered to go door to door delivering flyers, is that right?"
"Yes, I can do it after work and on Saturday afternoons. Everyone knows me, not only 'cause the village is so small, but also 'cause I've worked so many years for the doc. People will open their doors and listen to me, I'm sure. I'll be happy to help."
"That's great, thank you Morwenna," said Arthur smiling at her, then turning to Al he asked: "How is the website coming along, Al?"
"Let's see… design is done, I just need the content. I am not that much of a writer. One of you learned people should send me content files and I can then upload the content on the website."
"I'll write the content," said Arthur, "circulate and then if we are all happy with it you can upload. I can do it tomorrow. I should do it tomorrow, in fact. It looks like I can start a new treatment the day after tomorrow and there may well be side effects. I may not be able to contribute much for several days after I start this new drug."
Martin was really surprised.
"Arthur…," said Martin, "I was going to ask about your visit to Truro today, but to say you can already start the day after tomorrow… That seems very quick indeed."
"I was surprised as well, but Dr. Lahm said he had enough information and test results about me already that he could bring me into the trial immediately. I knew I was coming here tonight, otherwise I would have called Martin, to let you know. Lahm said you should receive the drug, with instructions on how to administer it, tomorrow."
"That is… unheard of," commented Ruth "generally subjects in this type of drug trial must be carefully vetted beforehand."
"Right," said Martin. "I will call Lahm before administering the drug, I really want to understand what's going on first, this speed is really unusual."
"As you wish, Martin, but I am eager to try something else at this point, as nothing much has worked very well for me so far," declared Arthur.
"Noted," concluded Martin with a brooding look.
They talked a bit more about flyers and their design, while Martin busied himself clearing away the tea cups. Then all except Morwenna left, with Al assuring Martin that he would walk Ruth back to her door, and Ruth protesting that she did not need any hand holding.
Louisa had asked Morwenna to stay behind a few minutes to talk in private. With a concerned air Louisa said: "Morwenna… I know this is none of my business, but you and Al… you both have been having long faces, and you avoid looking at each other. You used to be quite happy together and I am sad to see that there are problems… if you are still together… or am I imagining the whole thing? I'm here if you want to talk about it."
Morwenna was silent for a moment and then said: "You are right of course, we do have a problem. We've been together a long time, we are not getting any younger, and it's time to settle down, have children, the biological clock is ticking as they say. But Al… he does sometimes mumble about commitment, but then he never does propose, and I get really… frustrated with him when he seems about to, but doesn't, like he's changing his mind all the time!"
"Right, it is surprising," agreed Louisa, "I would have thought he would have proposed by now."
"Exactly! Why hasn't he proposed? I'm sure we do love each other, what's his problem?" asked Morwenna rather upset.
"I cannot imagine it's that he does not want children, and he'd be a great dad," said Louisa.
"Right, he likes kids. It's a puzzle."
"Are you sure he has not proposed?"
"Of course I'm sure. Have you seen him give me a ring?... Neither have I!" huffed Morwenna.
"You know Morwenna… these days one does not necessarily propose any more like one used to, man on one knee with a ring. And I have not heard of any woman proposing here in Portwenn, but apparently some women take the initiative to propose themselves these days."
"Really? That sounds like something that happens only on the telly," replied a very surprised Morwenna.
"Not at all. Think about it: are you the equal of Al or not?"
"Of course I am," said Morwenna with conviction.
"Well then, if you are equals, does it make any difference who proposes? Al can be a great lump sometimes, not knowing how to say something quite simple, or not realizing he needs to do it at all. What do you think he would say if you proposed?"
"Oh dear, Louisa! What a notion! I never even dreamed of that. But you are right, why ever not? Why does it have to be the man who proposes? Ah! I am an independent woman, with my own job and income, it's not as if I were asking him to support me!… All right then, I will propose myself, and he'd better accept, that great lump!"
Louisa laughed: "Oh, I'm sure he'll say yes. He's a good man, and he does love you."
"Thanks Louisa. Are all men as thick as Al and the doc when it comes to doing something a bit… romantic?"
Louisa laughed again, truly amused. "Oh Morwenna, some men are very smooth and clever in their dealings with women, but that doesn't necessarily make them good men or good husbands. I used to get annoyed at Martin too, you know him… but, though he's got such an unusual personality, he is a very good man, father and husband. See, he had no idea he was going to propose the first time, and took it for granted the second time. I have no doubt Al will be very good to you, no matter how unromantic he might be."
Morwenna felt reassured, thanked Louisa and left full of ideas about how to propose marriage to Al.
Louisa went to the master bedroom, thinking about Martin's involvement in the King's Mart discussion earlier in the kitchen. She was very pleased that Martin, though perhaps unconsciously, had contributed in a positive way to their committee's work. So when she entered the room and found Martin in bed reading his journal she said: "Thank you Martin, you were very helpful."
"How do you mean?" he asked perplexed.
"I mean earlier at the meeting. It did help us sharpen our arguments, you played the part of devil's advocate quite well."
"I was not playing a part at all. I was merely stating facts. I was not trying to get involved, if that's what you're thinking."
Martin said this in a rather cold manner, and Louisa was stung by his tone.
"Martin… I know you were just stating facts, but… that does not change the fact it was helpful. What I do not understand is why you loath the notion of helping us."
"I don't want to get involved."
"Why not? Because you do not believe in our cause?"
"I really do see both sides of the issue Louisa, so it would be a bit awkward for me to take a side, wouldn't it?"
Now Louisa was sad and a bit angry about Martin's response and she said: "Well, you do what you think is best for you then, Martin. I'll do what I think is best for the village."
"I am not doing what's best for me!" protested Martin. "I am just being honest about what I think on this issue. Is that so strange?"
"No, for you it is not strange at all. It's just… I wish you could really see how I and a lot of other villagers feel about this. We really believe the hypermarket would ruin the local economy, and we love our village. It is amazing that after all these years here you still hate it so much, and… it hurts!"
Martin did not reply immediately. This outburst by Louisa had touched a raw nerve, as he had come to realize recently not that he suddenly loved Portwenn, but that he wished he could, for the sake of his family, and his own. Then he cleared his voice and answered his wife.
"I don't hate it, that's too strong a word, but… it hurts me too, Louisa. It would be a lot easier for me to feel really a part of everything that goes on in the village, as you and the children do. But I can't, and as you put it, it does hurt."
This really struck Louisa. She had not expected this at all. She had expected a retort about how impossible it would always be for Martin to become a part of the village of the idiots. This was different, very much so. If Martin could feel hurt at not being able to participate, and wished he could… then maybe it might be possible for him at some point to find a better accommodation with the tiny village. This gave her hope.
Louisa walked towards the en-suite bathroom, but paused near Martin, leaned down, kissed the top of his head and said softly: "I'm sorry." Martin did not reply but nodded briefly, and went back to his medical journal, though he could not pay attention to it anymore.
Chapter 4 – [2]
In the morning Martin had by no means forgotten that he wanted to talk to the Truro neurologist, Dr. Lahm. He placed a few calls till he was able to impress on Dr. Lahm's assistant that he would administer no drugs till he had talked to Lahm himself. He left his number and also his Skype contact to be called back as soon as possible. At around 10:30 his Skype account lit up. It was not the most convenient moment as Martin had just undergone a bout of nausea following the application of sutures on a badly cut foot. He controlled himself as best he could, worried about the return of his haemophobia symptoms, then quickly poked his head into the reception room and told Morwenna: "Skype call," and closed the door.
Dr. Lahm appeared on the laptop screen in a white lab coat. He was younger than Martin had expected, mid-thirties at most.
"Doctor Ellingham?"
"Yes. Doctor Lahm, Mr. Davis tells me you want to start his new treatment tomorrow."
"That's correct."
"I am... very surprised. You could not possibly have had the time to vet Mr. Davis completely to ascertain his compatibility for your drug trial."
"Doctor Ellingham, you forget that we have a very thick file from London which contains very up-to-date data about our patient." Lahm had a somewhat condescending smile.
"So you were able to determine just by reading the file that Mr. Davis is a good subject for your drug test," observed Martin dubiously.
"That's the beauty of our drug though," answered Lahm. "If early results are confirmed it will be effective on all forms of MS, including primary and secondary progressive, regardless of the state of the myelin sheath in the nervous system. It is designed to work at any stage."
"Really?" asked Martin skeptically. "Even if there is no measurable signal from the brain to… a limb for instance, at all?"
"Exactly. I repeat: our compound stimulates the development, the re-growth of the missing or damaged myelin sheath regardless of the level of damage."
"Sounds like a miracle drug… getting totally paralyzed people to walk again." Martin was even more skeptical.
"Well, ultimately that's what we are aiming for at any rate," said Lahm with an indulgent smile which irritated Martin immensely.
"Side effects?" asked Martin.
"As usual those vary from patient to patient. Flu-like symptoms, nausea, vomiting, fever, aches, those are all common side effects, but the extent varies a lot."
"May I ask what's in the compound?"
Brief ironic laughter from Lahm: "Of course not, Doctor Ellingham. You know as well as I do how the pharmaceutical company must hold its cards close to its chest, right? No. I would appreciate in fact the utmost reserve."
"Of course," said Martin, feeling that he really disliked this man. "Dosage?"
"Each ampule is a complete dosage. You will inject intravenously once every three days for four weeks. You should receive the compound by special courier today. Refrigerate immediately."
"How many other patients are in this trial, if I may ask?"
"You may not," stated Lahm very coldly: how did this small village GP dare to challenge his research? Unheard of. Lahm was growing impatient. "I have a lot to do Doctor Ellingham. Let me know about any problems. Goodbye."
Martin cut short with a mere mumble. How galling to have this young hotshot treat him like that. But the worst was having to administer an experimental drug that he did not know anything about, and that sounded really too good to be true. Lahm was the sort of doctor who cared more about his career, grants, prizes and prestige than about people. For the first time in so many years since coming to Portwenn he finally understood, truly and completely understood Louisa's original objections to the board appointing Martin as Portwenn GP. She had accused him of seeing bodies, not people. Lahm was clearly seeing bodies, not people. Martin was incensed, as much at Lahm as at his past self. A bitterly ironic, little inner smile almost parted his lips though when he thought: "Bless this… damn haemophobia then, it makes me more humane, and a better doctor." He briefly considered whether he should refuse to administer the drug. He would tell Arthur his reservations, and if he administered it here in Portwenn it would be just so Arthur could avoid a trip to Truro every three days, which would be exhausting for the poor man, especially with side effects.
Chapter 4 - [3]
Once all work related matters were concluded that afternoon, Ms. Williams had to admit to herself that she felt… well, restless. The feeling was unusual. Generally she had too much to do between work and social life (which was also work most of the time), that she did not have the possibility to really think about her personal life and feelings. One could say her life so far had been a very successful whirlwind that had left little room for introspection. Having some leisure for the first time in ages gave her the opportunity to let her mind roam freely. It was a bit disconcerting that it was immediately filled with thoughts of Doctor Ellingham. Doc Martin. Martin. To be honest with herself she had to admit she could not quite get him off her mind at all. She was rather surprised by this sudden fixation. She had no problem admitting the physical attraction, that happened to her often enough: most of the time that resolved itself by having an affair with the man and after some time that was that.
But Doc Martin was different. He made a pretty big show of not being interested, by giving her cold looks and speaking to her in a detached, professional manner. Yet he almost invariably fell into this Freudian slip of the tongue by calling her Cruella. Then, in rare unguarded moments she clearly felt he sympathized with her predicament of being unwanted and unaccepted in this tiny village. He was obviously tied to his children, and therefore to his wife, Miss Portwenn herself… Ms. Williams had no intention of detaching the doc from his family, but she perceived his behavior toward her as a subtle game of deeply veiled hints of interest in a kinky little tryst, coupled with a façade of restraint for his wife's and the public's sake. His behavior was hard to interpret and thus inevitably titillating, but if there was any possibility of interest on his part she definitely meant to pursue it. The only way to get the doc off her mind, she knew, was to get him off that smart suit and into bed, and she felt rather impatient to get it over with.
That is how her ruminations about Martin eventually brought her to think of Mrs. Tishell. The local pharmacist had a long-standing professional relationship with the doctor and, unless Ms. William's senses had suddenly become dull in her perceptions of other women's interests, Mrs. Tishell was probably infatuated with Martin as well. The way she spoke of him made it rather plain. Ms. Williams therefore decided she would do some shopping at the pharmacy and find out what she could.
Upon entering the pharmacy Ms. Williams was immediately lucky in that her suspicions about Mrs. Tishell's feelings were confirmed. There were two women, including Rose from the morning exercise class, who was clearly trying to attract the pharmacist's attention, unsuccessfully. Mrs. Tishell was talking to an older woman in a rather stern manner, but as it had to do with Doctor Ellingham Ms. Williams busied herself with a pretend examination of creams and lotions, listening attentively.
"Mrs. Bell," was saying Mrs. Tishell, "if Doctor Ellingham told you to take this antibiotic, and I can see that in his prescription, then you need to take it. All of it!"
"Oh, that tosser does not want to understand this medicine does not agree with me. I don't want it!" yelled the old woman. At that moment Rose, who kept being unsuccessful in attracting the pharmacist's attention, just huffed impatiently and disappeared in the back, obviously going upstairs, completely unnoticed.
"Doctor Ellingham is not a tosser, Mrs. Bell! How can you say that? He is the best medical professional we have ever had, the best doctor Cornwall has ever had, I dare say!" exclaimed Mrs. Tishell with dreamy eyes, which then suddenly changed to a rather stern expression: "And he did change the antibiotic Mrs. Bell, this one is not the same as the one you were prescribed before, and which you foolishly stopped taking."
"Sally, you take his side then?" asked Mrs. Bell.
"How do I have to tell you? If Doctor Ellingham prescribed a new antibiotic you need to take it, ALL OF IT!"
"You are yelling at me almost as much as he did," sniffled the old lady. "Well. Alright, give it to me then, but if it makes me run to the loo as much as that other one did, I'm NOT going to finish it, understand Sally?"
"That'll be you going to hospital then, not me!" said Sally, wrapping the medicine box in paper. "It'll be five pounds."
The old lady paid, all the while mumbling unhappily, and left.
"Ms. Williams, how can I help?" asked Mrs. Tishell.
"I am looking for some lotion or cream. My knee is still a little swollen, what would you recommend?"
Mrs. Tishell then launched into a detailed description of several different products, and Ms. Williams let her talk, thinking of a way to bring the conversation back to Martin.
"Thank you, Mrs. Tishell, I think I'll take the ointment in that blue box, it seems the best for my problem. But I also wanted to ask your advice, woman to woman."
"Really? About what?"
"Well, you are one of the few educated people in this village…" Mrs. Tishell perked up at this, "…and I would not know who else to ask about this, it's a delicate matter."
Thinking that Ms. Williams was referring to some female issue, Ms. Tishell replied with a superior air: "Of course, you can confide in me, I'm the soul of discretion, unlike all the gossiping and babbling hordes in the village."
"Well it's about the doctor."
"Doctor Ellingham?"
"Yes… I cannot understand his behavior towards me."
"What do you mean? Doctor Ellingham is always extremely professional."
"Yes, but… a moment he is extremely professional, as you say, the next he has clear Freudian slips…"
"Freudian slips?"
"Yes… he hints at… you know… kinky sex…"
Mrs. Tishell stared at the woman in shock, with big round eyes that seemed to pop out of her head.
"What? Doctor Ellingham suggested… ehm… deviant… sexual practices to you? I can't believe it! Well I have always thought him rather a dark horse, he's so… so… vigorous, I imagine that he… ah, but no, I can't believe it, you must have misunderstood. He's too professional, he wouldn't, especially not with a total stranger such as you."
"But he keeps calling me Cruella."
"Cruella?"
"Yes."
"How often?"
"Several times already. Practically every time he sees me"
"He's never called me Cruella."
"Why would he call you Cruella?"
"Well why you?"
"Because he's interested in me, and some… handcuffs, whips perhaps…"
"Cruella you say?" repeated Mrs. Tishell, ever more shocked. "Wait, isn't that from a cartoon?"
"Yes, it's from a cartoon… but it's just a way to identify a woman, me in this case, as cruel, evil… obviously there's a double meaning there, otherwise why would he slip into such an outlandish name?… Does he do this sort of thing often?"
"No!" exclaimed Mrs. Tishell, "oh no, in all these years I have never heard him say anything like that, and he never so much as touched me with the tip of a finger, except in a medical situation, and he would have had plenty of opportunities to do so."
"Ehm… but might he not have done it with some other women?" inquired Ms. Williams.
"No, impossible, he never. And if he suddenly said anything of the sort you are hinting… well he could only be having a mid-life crisis, a break-down…a…a… psychotic episode! That must be it! This is not like him at all!"
"Well…he seems totally in control to me…"
"Ms. Williams, a person who is experiencing a psychotic episode may appear in control, but he or she is not! I'd be very careful. IGNORE IT when he calls you Cruella, don't act on it! I know Doctor Ellingham is very attractive, but control yourself, you cannot take advantage of a man in crisis!"
Ms. Williams stared at Mrs. Tishell and thought the woman was obviously out of her right mind. And Doc Martin was definitely not having any malady. The most probable cause for his Freudian slips, as with all men she'd ever met, was just plain and simple horniness which the wife for some reason could not or would not satisfy. That was the simplest explanation, and she knew that more often than not the simplest logical explanation was the most probable one.
"I promise not to… take advantage," said Ms. Williams, holding back an ironic smile with some difficulty. Then she paid for her ointment and left.
Mrs. Tishell returned behind her counter, very troubled. Rose, who had heard almost all of this conversation standing immobile and unseen on the stairs, was now trapped. She had stopped there while returning from the loo, but that conversation had been far too interesting to miss. How to come down and leave though?
Mrs. Tishell was now ablaze with worry for Martin. This was not normal behavior for the doc, he was a gentleman, and not like other men prone to philandering. No. Something must be wrong with the doc. What to do? After some thinking Mrs. Tishell concluded that finally, after so many years, she could make amends to Louisa for what she had done during her own psychotic episode, when she had kidnapped James. She would help Louisa in this crisis and make things right.
Then she heard some noise from upstairs and she looked up startled. Clive was at the gym, so who could it be? She heard the toilet being flushed and shortly thereafter steps came towards the stairs and then down.
"Rose!" exclaimed Mrs. Tishell. "What were you doing up there?"
"Sorry Sally, but you were busy with Mrs. Bell and I could not wait any longer, I really, really needed the loo, had to run."
"But… but… have you been in the loo all this time? Mrs. Bell left quite a while ago."
"Yes, I'm sorry Sally, I must have eaten something that did not agree with me, I did not feel well, so it took a while."
"And you just finished now?"
"Yes."
Mrs. Tishell looked at Rose intensely for a few moments, but as she was not very perceptive she did not read the lie in her friend's expression and said: "No problem Rose, that could happen to anyone," and was very relieved that Rose could not have heard her conversation with Ms. Williams from the loo, as otherwise there would certainly have been a lot of gossip about the doc in the village tonight. And to be sure, there was.
Chapter 4 – [4]
Shortly before the end of the school day Louisa received a call.
"Louisa?" said a voice she knew but could not immediately place.
"Mrs. Rowe here."
"Oh, of course, sorry Mrs. Rowe. I just did not expect a call from you."
"We have a car problem, it won't start. My husband says he can fix it, but we'll be late picking up Jasmine."
"Oh, I see… Well, she can just walk back to our house with Joanie and James and have tea with them. They'll be with Martin. I have paperwork to finish so I won't be home till dinner. You can pick up Jasmine from the surgery. I'll send Martin a message, it will be fine."
"Thank you Louisa. I'm sure if Jasmine could talk she'd spend half the time talking about your children. They are being so good to her."
"Thank you Mrs. Rowe. We do our best to teach them to be good citizens."
"Oh, they are. Thanks again."
Thus at the end of the school day the three children were walking to the surgery together but, as was James' and Joanie's habit, they did not rush home immediately. They zigzagged here and there, looking at shop windows, enjoying the afternoon sun, laughing at nothing, stopping by the water to throw rocks, occupying themselves in other words as children happy to be free from the restraints of chairs and desks.
As was frequently the case, when they were not far from the surgery they came across one of the teenage girls packs that habitually roamed the streets of Portwenn, the very sort that invariably tormented Martin with a variety of negative comments and catcalls. These girls usually ignored James and Joanie whom they saw as small, irrelevant local kids, regardless of their parentage. This time though they were with Jasmine, and that was different. The teenage girls were walking in the middle of the street and blocking the three children's path. Usually James and Joanie just moved to the side and let them pass without giving it much thought. This time one of the unruly girls stuck her hand out and pulled at Jasmine's scarf saying: "Hey, you're not in Saudi Arabia anymore, take it off!"
Jasmine immediately retreated towards the wall, as far away from the girls as she could, appearing immediately much frightened. There was not much space, however, and the girls, who were now all laughing at Jasmine, were coming closer with the clear intention of pulling the scarf off Jasmine's head. Jasmine squeezed against the wall holding her head, with the girls' hands on her.
James was taken by surprise, as he had not expected any such behaviour from a group of girls he considered a Portwenn fixture to be ignored. However, he took in the situation very quickly. He dropped his school bag, and rushed in front of Jasmine to shield her from the girls. Joanie was standing to the side closer to the surgery, scared, staring and unable to move.
"Leave her alone!" screamed James "What's it to you if she has a scarf?"
"What, you an Arab lover now? Becoming a tosser like your daddy, are you?" said the head of the pack, giving James a couple of slight but provoking shoves.
Those shoves directly on his body did it: to say that James, standing right in front of Jasmine with his arms spread wide attempting to protect her, was now very angry at these girls would be a gross understatement. It is safe to say that James had never been quite as angry in his hitherto short life. It was as if all the numerous Glasson and Ellingham anger genes had suddenly all collided together to combine into a wrath of biblical proportions inside his small frame.
"LEAVE HER ALONE!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs, sounding much like a smaller version of his father and daring to take a step forward, fists clenched in front of him now. This was very impressive and had the temporary effect of silencing the pack of girls for a few seconds. But he was just a child, not yet ten years of age. The girls started to laugh at him, which infuriated him even more. Then they began to reach behind James, towards the cowering Jasmine and pulling at her scarf again. James literally saw red. He completely lost any restraint or instinct of self-preservation. He charged forward and began to punch right and left any of the girls within reach, wildly, and as hard as he could. They started pushing and scratching back, while he was a small but fast moving fury, and not deterred.
Fortunately Joanie emerged from her state of panic and did the only thing she could do. She turned and ran to the surgery screaming very loudly, with an edge of terror in her voice: "DADDYYY, HELP! DADDYYYY, HELP! DADDYYY, THEY ARE HURTING JASMINE AND JAMES, DADDYYY!" She climbed the stairs as fast as she could and almost bumped into Morwenna and Martin who were rushing outside when they heard her screaming.
Martin stood baffled for about five seconds during which he took in the whole scene: Joanie, safe, jumping into his arms and being almost immediately passed on to Morwenna as he quickly ran down the steps; James furiously fighting with several bigger girls at once, and howling like a berserk Viking warrior of old; Jasmine, with her head bare, curled on the ground against the side of the road in a fetal position, trembling all over. Martin was there in a few long, quick strides. His large presence was quickly interposed between Jasmine and the screaming girls, while in one swift motion Martin also lifted his son from the ground, with James still kicking and punching empty air, unable to stop. To Morwenna, looking from the surgery with Joanie in her arms, James appeared momentarily like one of those cartoon characters suspended off the ground and moving mechanically. Then Martin's loud, angry voice stopped everyone:
"HOW COWARDLY ARE YOU, FIGHTING WITH SMALL CHILDREN?!"
"He started punching," said one feebly, while the others were already retreating, as James was put back on the ground, where he immediately went to look to Jasmine behind his father.
"AND WHAT DID YOU DO TO PROVOKE THAT?" bellowed Martin, "WHAT DID YOU DO TO THE GIRL, YOU IDIOTIC, MORONIC BUNCH?"
Martin did look rather scary at the moment, so that none of the girls answered.
"OH, SOD OFF, ALL OF YOU, SOD OFF!" he concluded, and the girls did run off, yelling a few "Tossers!" behind them. Martin turned to find James trying to soothe Jasmine. James was in a sorry state himself: his right sleeve was torn, his face all scratches, and the knuckles of both his hands were bleeding. His school bag and Jasmine's scarf were on the ground, both apparently much trampled. Jasmine was still curled up and trembling. Martin swore under his breath. He picked up Jasmine who thankfully did not reject his help and said: "James, can you get your bag and Jasmine's scarf? I'll carry her."
"Yeah," James simply answered, and did so. The adrenaline rush was wearing off, and James was unconsciously trying to bring his breathing back to normal. They walked the few steps to the surgery and Martin brought them all straight to the kitchen. Morwenna followed and put down Joanie.
"Doc, only one patient left, not urgent," said Morwenna
"Reschedule, and call Mr. and Mrs. Rowe, explain," Martin replied simply.
"On the double," replied Morwenna.
Jasmine was trembling rather violently in Martin's arms, obviously not just because of what the girls had done, but because this event must have re-awakened past terrors. Martin was filled with sorrow. He decided to administer a mild sedative, as Jasmine's pulse was racing and she was clearly in shock. He went to the couch and set her down, though she tried to cling to him.
"Joanie, can you stay with Jasmine? I need some items, for her and James."
Joanie went to the couch and embraced her trembling friend. Martin turned to James who was standing there a bit shell shocked, staring at Jasmine, thinking he should have done better than that, that he hadn't really saved her. But Martin, who had known bullies and their effects in his day, read James' forlorn look correctly.
"James…," said Martin softly, "you did all you could, you did more than most other boys your age would have done. I'm proud of you, that you had the courage to face those girls to try to protect Jasmine. They might have done worse had you not been there… and at least she knew she was not alone."
James looked up, gratitude in his eyes, and hugged his dad around his long legs, while Martin patted his back.
"But dad… did you see Jasmine's neck, under her collar? You can see it now without the scarf. It's all…hurt-like…"
"No, I didn't," said Martin and immediately went to Jasmine and gently raised her collar, and froze in redoubled horror.
With his voice trembling a bit Martin said: "Those girls didn't do that… those are older scars James, months old."
Both James and Joanie stared at Martin with big eyes, trying to digest this information. James shook his head, he was just as horrified as Martin. Joanie started shedding silent tears and caressing Jasmine's hair.
Martin left and came back shortly. He injected a mild sedative to help Jasmine calm down and sleep, then he gently cleaned all of James scratches and the abrasions on his knuckles, which he also bandaged.
"This bandage can come off tomorrow morning James, it's just to keep the wounds clean for now, OK?"
"Yes," mumbled James, who was resisting the impulse to cry, because the entire episode hurt, emotionally and physically, and his hands and face were stinging now.
Morwenna came in. "Doc, the Rowes should get here shortly. Doc… I know all of those girls, I know exactly who they are."
"You should tell Mr. Rowe then."
"Yes. How stupid and mean can those girls be? What did they do to her James?" asked Morwenna.
"They said that she's not in Arabia and to take off her scarf. Then they started pulling the scarf. I tried to stop them, but couldn't, they were too many."
"Ignorant morons!" said Martin.
"You did well James," Morwenna reassured the boy patting him on the back. "I hope Mr. Rowe talks to all of those girls' parents."
Martin just nodded and said: "Let's make some tea, it will be good for the children to drink something warm… and maybe eat something sweet."
"Really doc?" asked Morwenna in surprise.
"Yes, for today," then he whispered: "I do know where the chocolate digestives are hidden. Why don't you bring them out?"
Morwenna gave him a long look and then whispered back: "So you can keep pretending you don't know?"
Martin nodded and Morwenna shook her head, smiling.
When the Rowes arrived tea was made and all were sitting around the kitchen table, except Jasmine who was asleep on the couch, covered by a blanket. Martin, Morwenna and James all explained what happened, and Mrs. Rowe started shedding some tears, while Mr. Rowe looked as if he was ready to go get his shotgun. Martin took him aside.
"Mr. Rowe… those girls for the most part are just ignorant and stupid. I think you should just talk to their parents, and hopefully they will be set straight. Or you can file a complaint."
"Or both," said the older man. He was still clearly angry.
"Ah…" said Martin "you and your wife… I also need to speak to you in my consulting room."
Mr. Rowe had a worried look but said: "Sure," and both he and his wife went to the consulting room.
"Stay with the children till I return Morwenna… please," said Martin.
"Of course," assured Morwenna.
In the consulting room Martin cleared his voice and said: "I was going to call you about the culture results, which we just received. Jasmine does have an intestinal bacterial infection, probably contracted on the road somewhere. We can treat that with antibiotics. I want to be a little aggressive with the treatment because she's probably been sick for some time now and does need to eat more and recuperate. She's considerably underweight. But I anticipate that as soon as she starts taking the antibiotics she'll start feeling better and gaining weight again. We will also administer some vitamins and minerals to bring her values back to normal. The other thing though… Mrs. Rowe… have you seen Jasmine's neck, or… other parts of her body?"
Mrs. Rowe was puzzled, but answered: "Not really, no, Jasmine's been very modest, always with her scarf around her neck and hair… I did not pry of course… I'm sure in Iraq all the girls are taught to be very modest."
"Probably," replied Martin, "but… brace yourselves… Jasmine has a really bad scar around her neck, as if… she'd been tied and pulled by the neck and… we have not seen the rest of her body… I hope there's no more than that, but…" he shook his head disconsolately. Mrs. Rowe had an absent look on her face for a moment, and then fainted, with her husband fortunately catching her before she could bump her head on Martin's desk.
Martin got up and busied himself with Mrs. Rowe until she regained consciousness and fell into Mr. Rowe's arms crying, while Mr. Rowe himself appeared numbed with pain which he did not know how to express.
"Jasmine is sedated now," explained Martin, "so I could examine her if you like. It might be better than when she's awake, or… you can take her to Truro to a pediatrician I know, she's a good doctor."
Mr. Rowe said: "Doc, you're the best doctor around for miles and miles, and we trust you. Let's bring Jasmine here and see how bad it is."
Martin nodded, went out and came back shortly carrying Jasmine fast asleep. He could hardly believe how light she was. With the weeping Mrs. Rowe's help he was able to examine Jasmine's extremely skinny body. The scar around her neck he judged again to be a few months old, as well as the lash marks on Jasmine's back. All the wounds had not previously received any medical attention and had healed in a rather haphazard manner.
"I think… someone had her tied by the neck at some point several months ago and… administered some lashes to her back, at the same time more or less... It will be possible to reduce the scars with cosmetic surgery…" Martin had never before had to deal with a heartrending case such as this one. He felt himself devastated, and could not imagine what Mr. and Mrs. Rowe must be feeling. After a few moments he added: "You also need to alert social services…"
"When will she wake up?" asked Mrs. Rowe, who could not stop crying.
"Oh, she'll sleep soundly till tomorrow morning. Perhaps sleep in the same room with her, so she sees you when she awakes. I will start her antibiotic now with an injection, and hopefully tomorrow morning she'll feel a bit better already. I'll give you the first dosage for tomorrow, to be taken by mouth, and a prescription for Mrs. Tishell. You'll have to make sure Jasmine takes all of the antibiotics I'm prescribing, she must complete the course."
"Yes, sure… But what do we do when she wakes up doc?"
Martin looked at Mrs. Rowe and in a rather hoarse voice said: "Love her Mrs. Rowe, love her. I think that's the medicine Jasmine needs most right now." Then he turned around because he had a tear threatening to trickle down his cheek.