Chapter 7 - Boxing Day PM

Louisa said, "Now that wasn't so bad, nice actually, wasn't it? Time with our friends?"

I was closing James' door, for he was fast asleep, having had to carry him home from Morwenna and Al's house. I turned to face Louisa, who was smiling at me. "James is asleep."

"And so is Mary," Louisa added as she reached out to put her arms around me. "An enjoyable Boxing Day."

Spending a few hours with Morwenna and Al I found acceptable; however, Caitlin and Bert were also in attendance and then later Joe and Janice arrived. I nodded to my wife. "Now we need to pack." Spending any amount of time with the last three mentioned I always found to be a strain. Janice was flighty per usual – giggly and cracking jokes with Joe, who was very happy with his new change of romantic circumstance, while Bert had clearly been into the whiskey well before arriving. Caitlin kept brushing herself up against Bert with obvious romantic desires, but this time Bert was reciprocating her attentions.

Morwenna had pulled me aside for some reason. "Doc, thank you for coming," she whispered and then pushed a small flat carton into my hands. "Happy Christmas. It's not a clock but you may appreciate it."

The package contained an antique surveyor's compass, a bit scratched, but when cleaned it would make a fine display. "Thank you," I muttered, then gave her the envelope I had prepared earlier.

"What's this?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Uhm, a…" I cleared my throat, "given the changes to come, you and Al… may… find it useful."

I was at my desk after Chippy and his friend left when Louisa looked in on me. "Here you are. Want a spot of lunch?" she asked.

"Yes. Small portions though."

"Soup? And a salad?"

"That would be good," I answered.

She came over to my desk and peered at what I was doing. "Writing a cheque?"

I swiftly pushed the paper into an envelope, then sealed it and scribbled names on the front. "For Morwenna and Al. I just thought, well." I shrugged.

Louisa smiled. "You are just an old softy, aren't you?"

I bristled at her soppy sentiment. "They will need resources," I told her factually.

Louisa chuckled. "Oh yes. When I was a girl the villagers pitched in to help me, so we should do the same for others."

"Hmm," I muttered as I closed the cheque book with a snap.

"I must take her shopping. With her mum and dad away, she might need advice as well." Louisa bit her lip. "And some of my old things she may be able to use."

"You are likely correct," I answered.

"What's this?" Morwenna asked me as I handed her the envelope as we stood in her kitchen.

"You may need this; soon enough," I told her.

Her eyes went wide when she opened it and saw what was inside. "Oh, Doc! You didn't have to." Suddenly she wrapped me in a hug and kissed my check. "Oh, this is wonderful."

I resisted pushing her away. Morwenna had worked for me for four years and she had become an integral part of my practice; wrangling stubborn or forgetful patients and their records, helping to keep me on schedule, and managing emergency calls – as well as triaging them for me. "Right," I told my receptionist. "It's for all of your useful help."

She let me go, her eyes smiling. "Doc, I… really… really do mean… thanks," and then she began to cry.

Louisa tipped her head at home. "We only need things for three days and two nights," she sighed. "Janice will come early to watch the children and then Al will take us to the train." She drew me into our bedroom. "Now, our cases. I'll just need my medium rollie case."

I'd already got our cases from the box room, so I now placed them on the bed. Louisa was now by the dresser and taking out what she needed.

My items were simple to pack, underthings, socks, shirts and ties, two suits, plus pajamas and slippers. My toiletries were simple enough as well. I put those into my case, but as I turned I found Louisa standing by the closet and weeping silently.

I immediately went to her side, but I didn't say anything. This day I was around weeping women. Morwenna over the large cheque I'd given for her and Al, for with a baby on the way they'd need things.

Janice Bone had first got to laughing and then crying as she and Joe recalled their cancelled wedding. Joe could only sit next to her rubbing his new (or perhaps repeat) fiancée's back with an apologetic look. "I never didn't want to not marry you, Janice," he told her, and his fractured sentence made her cry all the more.

And now, I sighed inside, my wife weeping as she looked at her clothing hanging in our closet.

After a minute or so, Louisa turned to me wiping her face with her hand. "Sorry Martin. But about your mother. She actually complimented me for leaving; at the airport, you know, taking James to Spain and leaving you. Plus, she warned me you'd not be capable of changing." She closed her eyes. "But here you are, we are together and all of it."

I touched her cheek to wipe away a trickling tear from her smooth cheek.

Then she took a deep breath. "Margaret was so wrong. About me and us – about you, especially." She sighed deeply but went on. "I didn't like her, not for one bloody second. I told your mum that – right to her face. And that she didn't treat you very nice, even holding back that your dad had died. Really? What was she thinking? So I told her she ought to be ashamed of the way she was acting, not only taking your grandfather's clock, but also the way she treated her own son - her own flesh and blood, like a stranger or worse?" Her voice had been rising in pitch, almost shouting.

"Louisa… I…"

"No, Martin. Let me finish. I was wrong not to tell you this before," Louisa added. "But I have to get it off my chest now. What a horrible mother – and an awful woman. And I apologize for saying this to you."

Louisa had almost exactly echoed what Ruth said to me about my mother. "She was ill prepared to be a mother I suppose," I replied.

Then Louisa looked deep into my eyes. "Joan was the mother you ought to have had," she stated. "Even if she'd not birthed you, Joan would have been a very good mother." She touched my arm. "So, I just…" now the tears flowed more freely.

"Some people, uhm, women are not well suited to be parents."

She held up her hand. "I just needed to get that out. Martin, just let me add this; say it just this once; never have before, and I won't ever say it again, but here it is. We'll go up to London, right?" She squared her shoulders, head upright and eyes boring into mine.

I nodded.

She went on, "We'll take dark clothing 'cause it's your mum's funeral. It's the thing to do. You won't like to do it and I won't like it. But we'll see her laid to rest at the end of it. We'll just get through it and it'll be done. Right?" She took my hand and rubbed the back of it with her thumb.

"Right."

"But all the while you must know I won't ever forgive her; not ever. And if I'm crying during any of it," she sniffled, "it'll be for you and not her. Understand?"

"Right," I answered. For me? I hugged my wife, until it seemed time to get on with the packing.