Disclaimer: Doc Martin and recognisable storylines and characters belong to Buffalo Pictures and the creative team. Reviews are always appreciated.
Initiative - Chapter 7
Before Martin got into his car, he reached into his pocket for his sheet of notes. It wasn't there. He tried his other pockets, then looked around the car seat, behind it, under the car, and scanned up and down the road.
He sat behind the wheel before starting it and exhaled in frustration. 'Where could it be?' he thought. There was nothing for it at that moment, but to bring the car to the shop door, so he drove. He turned off the ignition. When he saw Bainbridge exiting the building, he released the boot lid and got out of the car.
Together they set the crate safely inside and closed the lid. Louisa emerged from the shop, the cheery bell sounding farewell.
Martin, now slightly agitated, excused himself and reentered the shop. He scanned the floor of the storefront, then went to the office and on to the lavatory. Nothing. He had to head back outside, and he did so with a strong feeling of doom. He recalled his personality description. 'Just stop it,' he admonished himself.
Reg was standing beside the passenger door, and as Louisa settled herself, he closed the door for her. Then he turned to Martin.
"Alright, Martin?"
"Um, yes," said Martin, unconvincingly. But Reg didn't argue. The men shook hands.
"See you soon, then," said Reg.
"Yes," said Martin, then he got into the car and they were off.
- oo0oo –
Louisa couldn't help but notice his tension, and she couldn't help but wonder why. She thought back over the conversations towards the end of the visit, and she really didn't think it was something she'd said. She couldn't imagine it was anything that Martin and Reg might have discussed, either. It was a mystery. 'Well, must try,' she thought.
"That was fun," she started. "He thinks the world of your clock-fixing skills, doesn't he?"
Martin had just been mentally retracing his actions as they'd left Louisa's cottage earlier. He was sure he'd pocketed the sheet of notes. He thought hard, remembering that she'd startled him somewhat when she'd suddenly been back downstairs. He had to admit that he might have had a momentary bout of shaky hands. Rubbish. He heard her question.
"Seems so," he said, without conviction.
"No, really. I got the feeling that he liked bragging that he knows someone as skilled as you."
"It's just clocks, Louisa."
And there he went, saying the wrong thing. He knew, because she tensed, then turned her head towards her window in silence.
Why did he just say that? Yes, to him it was just clocks, but she was right... It was rare that he received compliments. If ever. He had a fleeting memory of the afternoon after Danny Steel's collapsed lung. Roger's simple, "Well done, mate," had been nice to hear.
He sighed. "To me. It's just clocks, to me. Bainbridge is very... generous."
Louisa, however, stayed silent for a bit. 'The work,' she thought. She looked over at him for a couple of seconds, then back out her window.
"Do you remember when I asked you about Delph Lane possibly having ADHD?" she said.
"I don't discuss m..."
"...discuss your patients, yes. I know. I'm talking about when Bert interrupted our conversation."
Martin thought back to that moment. He had just gotten her to sit at his kitchen table, and it had seemed like they might actually have an uninterrupted conversation, but, yes, he recalled Bert bumbling in as usual.
"You had just told me that your father would hit you with his belt or a table tennis bat, or both." Louisa paused, then said what went unheard and unanswered that evening, "And I asked, 'and you don't think that's had anything... to do with how you are with people?'"
Martin stayed silent, thinking. What he'd said was not a big deal at the time. He was so far removed from childhood misbehaviour, and could only think about the main topic of their discussion, the terribly misbehaving Delph Lane.
"I've never thought about it," he started, but didn't know where to go after that.
"Sorry, I'm not a psychologist," said Louisa, apologetically.
The trip continued in silence.
- oo0oo –
They had finished driving the single carriageway, had rejoined the highway at Exeter, and were heading west. Martin started to think about the return to Portwenn. He had liked a lot about this day, but just thinking of the worst patients he'd seen lately put him in a negative mood.
He was also thinking, speculating really, about his notes. The sheet must be inside Louisa's cottage. He needed to go inside with her to grab it before she saw it. How to do that was his new source of misery.
Louisa broke the silence. "When does that course start that Gavin Peters wanted you to take?"
Was there no end to things Martin did not want to be thinking about at this time?
"There is an introductory phone call sometime tomorrow, then the class starts on Thursday afternoon. It finishes after seven afternoons on the following Friday. Peters has arranged a locum."
"I'm sorry I couldn't talk him out of it," said Louisa, sincerely.
"Not your fault," said Martin.
"I've just realised I seem to have a one-track mind. Honestly, Martin, it's just a coincidence. You and I... we have a lot of unfinished conversations, don't we?"
Martin was so out of sorts, he needed to think before replying to this simple observation.
He thought back to something Joan had recently said to him.
- oo0oo –
Joan had just learned that Martin gave up his London flat, and used the money to make his father give up his claim on the farm. She was emotionally grateful.
"Why didn't you say anything?" she'd asked.
"You didn't give me the chance," Martin told her, matter-of-factly.
"Ah, the Ellingham Curse."
"What do you mean?"
"Never talking about anything. Keeping your emotions hidden."
- oo0oo –
Martin didn't have a one-track mind at the moment. He now had three major areas of mental discomfort. He was worrying that Louisa thought his childhood had made him miserable company as an adult. He was nearly convinced that she would find his notes before he did and he would then be utterly embarrassed. And this day, that had gone so well for the most part, would shortly return to being just another lonely evening at home, with a clock to fix, but no one to make him hopeful for the future.
- oo0oo –
End of Chapter 7
