Chapter 8 – Bodmin to Paddington

Al delivered us to Bodmin Parkway Station early the next morning. We had a few minutes until the train arrived, so he stayed with us, scratching his chin. Finally, he cleared his throat. "Erm, Doc, Louisa. Sorry about yer mum," he said. He stuck out his hand, so I shook it briefly.

I ducked my head. "Thank you." Had to accept condolences for my mother, all things considered.

"Parents… well, I don't remember my mum, I was a baby, when she… uhm. So…" Al sighed. "Still, very hard to lose a parent."

"Yes," I replied.

"Thank you, Al," Louisa said and then she hugged him. "Thanks for getting us here so early."

"No problem, Louisa. And don't you worry about the kids. Between Ruth, Janice and Morwenna they'll take real good care of 'em."

Louisa smiled. "Good practice for you," she told him.

He nodded, with a slightly worried look. "All in good time, I suppose."

"You'll do fine," Louisa replied. "You and Morwenna are a lovely couple and I think you two will be wonderful parents."

He nodded at her. "Thanks for sayin' that. Here now comes yer train."

Right on time the train pulled in. Two people got off but a few boarded. Time was that this was a far busy place, with freight trains carrying wheat and fish to Town. A bygone time. I put our cases on the overhead rack, plus a large shoulder bag Louisa had stuffed extra things into.

"Window or aisle?" she asked me.

"Doesn't matter."

"Then you take the window."

I did as she suggested then she settled herself in the aisle seat. I opened the BMJ I had brought ad began to read. In a few minutes the train began to move. I looked at my watch, and our departure was right on time – 9:31 in the AM.

Louisa sighed. "In about four hours we'll be in London." She took a drink from the water bottle she carried, then she yawned. "Sorry. A bit tired." She rested her head against my shoulder.

The weight of her head made me think of that farmer who had died on this train, well not this train, for it was afternoon and westbound. I thought it over. Jack something? No Jim… Jim… sand? No, Selkirk. Jim Selkirk. Yes. Then I recalled it all. His widow then became convinced that her late husband's ghost was visiting her; all due to hallucinations from a health issue. I nodded my head at the memory. He'd suffered a coronary occlusion on the train, then he'd slumped onto my shoulder, dead.

"Sorry, Martin," Louisa muttered.

"It's fine, you're fine," I told her.

She turned towards me and put an arm around me. "I didn't sleep much last night."

Neither had I. "A lot going on." I touched her hand, and she grasped it.

After some time, I heard her making tiny snoring sounds as the train rumbled down the line.

Last night my thoughts were jumbled. Christmas, Louisa, the children, Father Christmas, a burning Christmas tree, my mother, my aunts, a funeral… a lot going on. I turned my mind back to the Journal article I had started to read: Incidence of Hyper-Lipidemia in the Under-40s – an Emerging Health Concern.

There were certainly some patients I had in surgery that fi that bill. Al Large was borderline on that score as well as few others. Usually eating fewer fatty foods and taking more exercise resulted in better outcomes.

But people such as Selkirk, and my aunt Joan, were older, less fit, and more sedentary. The shocked look on the faces of the people at Joan's funeral when I mounted the pulpit and began to tell them that they were obese and unfit and those were the very things which led to Joan's death. Reflecting, it was probably not the proper moment to deliver that discourse, but I had their attention since they were gathered, so I could inform them all at once.

Afterwards Bert sidled up to me and looked at me with sad eyes. "Your aunt was a saint, you know. And though it might not have been the right place to deliver a health lecture, Doc, you sure got our attention." Then he shook my hand, hugged Louisa carefully since she holding baby James (though yet unnamed), touched our son's head with a thick finger and shuffled away, to be replaced by other mourners.

I sighed so Louisa stirred. "Martin?" she asked. "You okay?"

"Fine, I'm fine."

"Well, your hand was all twitchy."

I flexed my fingers to stop that motion, then Louisa folded her hand over mine again.

"Love you," she whispered.

I pressed my head against the top of hers. "I love you."

The train was fairly empty so I could ruminate most of the trip and not be disturbed by the chatter of others, and of course my friendly wife would be speaking to them. I was not in the mood, just pleased to sit here silently, with my wife's head on my shoulder. Just keeping myself to myself.

That trip back from London was when I was going to decamp from the village and move to London, spurred on by Edith. Looking back I was totally unable to return to surgery; my haemophobia still being in full array. I was trying so hard to get back to something that I knew, surgery. To be addressed as Mr. rather than Dr., for surgeons are always knows as 'Mr.' I cocked my head slightly towards my wife and I could smell the gentle aroma of Kenzo Flower. Louisa was getting very pregnant with our child and I was going to run away. I thought I was prepared to trade any life with her for my career, but I finally admitted to myself and to her that I wanted to be with her. If Edith Montgomery had not been nearby, a burr under my saddle as it were, I likely would have bidden Louisa to move into my house. Single, thirty-seven, pregnant and in rented lodgings she did need my help. Yet she and I had been at loggerheads. We'd not married, gotten pregnant and separated; then thrust back together and neither of us was willing to say 'I'm sorry. I misunderstood you.' And then follow with 'I love you.'

True love travels on a gravel road, Roger Fenn had told me. Only later did I find he was quoting a song and I had looked it up.

Love is a stranger and hearts are in danger
All through streets paved with gold
For true love travels on a gravel road.

That refrain buzzed in my head. It's never easy. You have to work hard at it to learn how to live together, care for one another, all that. Be there not just when it's all sunshine and roses and tender sighs and exciting romance in bed, but when it's pouring rain, the baby is sick and your job is at peril. A lot of times it's ust about getting on – putting one foot in front of the other

The train rolled along through various stations, villages and towns, the landscape changing from Cornish moor to Devon wood and fields through Somerset and then more expansive Dorset farmscapes eventually going up to Greater London, largest city in the UK, the centre of it all.

The train slowed as it entered the city, passing blocks of flats, towers, warehouses, and then to Paddington Station. An arrival announcement was made, Louisa awake and we were here, just four hours and 21 minutes after departing Bodmin Parkway.

Louisa smiled at me, then yawned. "I had a long nap. You?"

I shook my head no.

She patted my arm. "Taxi to the hotel and then lunch?"

"Yes." I got our bags down then we queued to exit.