Disclaimer: Doc Martin and recognisable storylines belong to Buffalo Pictures.

Initiative - Chapter 5

They made good time driving up and out of Portwenn. Martin had turned down the classical station his car radio had been tuned to, but it was just the right, pleasant background music for a Sunday drive.

"How long have you been fixing clocks?"

"Since I was a boy, actually. My grandfather had a table clock. He never let me touch it, but he ended up teaching me how to wind it by letting me watch him. When he wasn't around, I would have a good, quick look inside of it. I would take it apart and put it back together, in stages, over time. I learned to recognise when oil and dust build-up were affecting the mechanism. He let me watch him clean the mechanism once." Martin trailed off.

"Did you see much of him growing up?"

"No, my parents didn't take me many places while I was growing up." Silence again.

Louisa knew that his parents were a source of unhappiness in him. She had figured that out during their one visit, that she knew of, to Portwenn. Martin was tense and sad those few days.

"That's too bad. Grandparents are usually a more patient version of parents," said Louisa. "Do you know where that clock is today?"

He nodded. He knew. "Aunt Joan had it last. She'd painted the glass door. Folk style. Garish." He knew he sounded grumpy, so lightened up. He thought about how his uncle was the patient adult in his young life. He added, "Uncle Phil let me fix a clock of his, and a neighbor's after that."

- oo0oo –

They had passed a couple of signs to enter Dartmoor National Park.

"Have you ever driven over Dartmoor?" Louisa asked.

"I was there with Aunt Joan and Uncle Phil one summer. Uncle Phil had met a sheepherder at a fair, and we visited, had a late lunch, and went home." He thought for a minute. "They had a son around my age and he spent the whole time daring me."

"Did he get you into trouble?"

"No. I wasn't a very good sport."

Louisa smiled. "I interpret that to mean you were a good kid. The last time I was down here, it was before my mother left; we went to the Dartmoor Zoo, down near Plymouth." She was quiet then, thinking and remembering.

Martin thought, '...different behaviour. Notice what happens.' He said, "Should we drive through?"

Louisa's smile was his answer.

"I would love that," she said.

Martin took the exit south from Whiddon Down.

- oo0oo –

The hillsides were covered in purple heather, and the skies were filled with fluffy, fair-weather clouds. They had to stop once for a tour bus giving its passengers a chance to photograph the Dartmoor Ponies lying on their sides in the sun. At one point, Martin noticed he was tapping the steering wheel and made himself stop.

They were also slowed by several Scotch Blackface sheep ambling across the narrow road.

"I love their black and white legs," said Louisa. "It's like they're wearing fun stockings."

Martin watched her smiling and pointing. This trip wasn't going too badly, after all.

They started seeing signs for Widecombe-in-the-Moor.

"They filmed War Horse near here," Louisa remarked.

"Isn't that a play?" asked Martin.

"Yes," she replied. "It was a children's book, then a play, then a film. I think an episode of 'Sherlock' was filmed here, as well."

"Sherlock Holmes?"

"The modern-day version?" she asked. Martin, once again, was unfamiliar with it.

They had seen, and continued to see, lots of hikers up and around the tors they passed.

"Guess it's gotten to be a popular destination," Louisa added. "Oh, I heard a new term for that recently, 'Set-jetting.' Traveling around to see where TV shows and films were based."

"Hm," was as much as Martin dared interject. He knew, because he had squelched his first, negative reaction to that silly activity.

- oo0oo –

An old-fashioned shopkeeper's bell jingled over the door as Martin and Louisa walked into the shop. Every square foot of wall space appeared to have a clock mounted on it.

Mr Reginald Bainbridge looked to be in his seventies. He wore a magnifying headgear and had a pocket tool holder. He adjusted his glasses as Louisa entered, then smiled broadly when he saw Martin.

"Martin! Here you are! Good to see you!" He came out from behind the glass case to shake Martin's hand, patting him on the arm as he did so.

"Yes," said Martin. Attempting to alter his style, he added. "You, too."

Mr Bainbridge looked at the attractive brunette in his shop, then inquiringly back at Martin.

Martin, trying, said, "This is my... Louisa... This is Louisa Glasson, my... This is Mr Bainbridge."

Mr Bainbridge shook Louisa's hand, with a knowing smile, and said, "Enchanted, my dear. Please, call me Reg."

Louisa said, "Very nice to meet you, Reg."

Reg thought she looked quite pleased, and decided the two must be a new item.

"Martin said he's been repairing clocks for you for years. So, he must know what he's doing," said Louisa.

"If I'm honest, Martin is the best horologist, who isn't one, that I've ever worked with," said Reg with pride. "He has helped with my shop's reputation." Martin, of course, shook his head slightly. Louisa wondered how often he was complimented, and yet knew that it probably wasn't very often.

The bell jingled over the door again as a middle-aged gentleman entered the shop. Once he was inside, he set a box on the floor at his feet. He nodded at Martin and Louisa, turned to the shopkeeper, and said, "Afternoon, Reg. I tried your counterpart in Exeter, and 'e said you 'ad the man 'oo could do the job."

"Quite right," said Reg. With a flourish of his arm, he added, "And here he is. Martin, Gerry Day. Gerry, this is Dr. Martin Ellingham, the man with the hands." The men shook hands, and Martin tried to improve on his earlier fumble by simply saying, "And this is Louisa Glasson."

"Nice to meet you," both Gerry and Louisa said at the same time, but neither found it uncomfortable.

"So," said Louisa, pointing at the box on the floor. "Is that the clock that Martin's come to fix?"

End of Chapter 5