Doc Martin and all of its characters, themes and plotlines are the property of Buffalo Pictures. This work of fiction is written for purely entertainment purposes and no infringement of legal rights is intended.

I wish to thank Boots1980 and jd517 for making insightful comments and revisions that have made this chapter immeasurably better than it would have otherwise been.

Chapter 4

Louisa

Louisa had second thoughts the moment she agreed to have dinner with Toby. It had been over ten years since she had last seen him – what if he had turned into a complete bore or worse still, some kind of psychopath? Her mind raced to find an excuse, any excuse that would allow a graceful exit from this impromptu dinner date. But she couldn't come up with anything remotely plausible and instead followed Toby, resigned to making the best of it.

They walked in silence with a cold, hard, biting wind slicing through her thin wool coat. Toby's hand came to rest lightly on Louisa's arm and she shied away from his touch, but quickly branded herself a fool; isn't this what she'd been hoping for since moving to London – meeting new people, dinners out, making a life for herself? She tightened her scarf against the ever mounting wind and sternly told herself it would be fine, Toby wasn't a stranger after all, not in the strictest sense of the word. From experience Louisa had learned people didn't change, well not that much anyway, and she imagined he must be the same witty and fun loving man that had kissed her at Danny's party all these years ago. Truth be told, she had never completely forgotten Toby, and had often wondered what became of him. Of course there had been no asking Danny, who had an ongoing rivalry with his cousin that bordered on the deranged. Any mention of Toby was guaranteed to send her former lover into a sulk, something she hadn't been prepared to endure for of the sake of few snippets of information.

Toby turned down a side street and she noticed they were in the posher part of her neighborhood. The restaurants were mostly sit down with starched white tablecloths and the shops catered to the wealthy and fashionable. Windows and doorways were tastefully decorated for Christmas with fluffs of artificial snow and fairy lights warming the cheerless winter night. She had tried to forget the holiday was just around the corner, ignoring the jingly ads on the telly and the sale flyers cluttering her post box. There wasn't much to celebrate, alone without family and friends in the big city, and she had considered traveling back to Portwenn over the two week winter break. But there was the real risk she'd run into Martin and that possibility was too difficult to even contemplate.

"We're here," said Toby and Louisa saw they were standing in front of a door painted a dark shade of green with the words Café Italia stenciled across front. Not very original, she thought, suddenly realising they were a few streets over from her bedsit. She hadn't quite sorted the roads in her new neighborhood, but she had a faint recollection of this place, having passed it a few times on her way to the chip shop and Vietnamese takeaway. Lately she'd craved large steaming bowls of pho and the salty crunch of battered fried fish, and wondered more than once what Martin would have thought of her diet. She imagined him launching into a lecture on the health hazards of saturated fats and too much sodium, his tone cautionary as well as condescending. Well now she could do as she pleased, and she rather enjoyed devouring a whole packet of biscuits without having to justify herself to anyone.

Toby ushered her inside the restaurant and they were seated by a man with a spotless white apron tied around his rather expansive waist. He handed them menus and rattled off the day's specials while she glanced at couples holding hands across candlelit tables. This was obviously a place for serious couples out on serious dates and she felt a little like a fish out of water, suddenly wishing she was queuing up at the Vietnamese takeaway. Toby smiled at her from across the table and asked if she'd like a glass of Chianti. Yes that would be nice, she answered with a confidence she didn't feel.

The waiter brought the wine along with bread and small dish of herb infused olive oil. She was nervously tearing at a piece of still warm bread and dipping it in the oil when Toby raised his glass and said, "Here's to meeting old friends in new places. You can't imagine how surprised I was to see you on the train, but then again, maybe I shouldn't have been. Danny told me you'd move to London."

"Danny?" said Louisa, hand suspended in mid-air, oil dripping onto the table cloth. She quickly set the bread on her plate, imagining Danny's mother gleefully telling her son about the debacle that had been her wedding day and her subsequent move to London. The woman was an incorrigible gossip, happily harnessing the village grape vein from her perch at the nursing home. Louisa could hear her now - "see what bullet you dodged, son? It could have been you she left hanging high and dry at the altar."

Toby continued on as Louisa continued to ruminate. "Yep. I saw the bugger last week at one of those boring charity dinners. I asked about you and he said you had recently moved here from Cornwall." He smiled ruefully. "Truth be told Aunt Muriel beat him to it. She rings once in a while to check up on me, making sure I'm still gainfully employed and not dragging the family name through the muck."

"I knew it," muttered Louisa, thinking uncharitable thoughts about Danny's mother. Toby frowned and asked, "Have I upset you? I didn't mean…"

"Did she say anything else? Where I'd move, where I was working?" she asked sharply

But the minute the words were out of her mouth Louisa realised she was barking up the wrong tree; Muriel Steel couldn't have known where she was living or working because she hadn't told anyone. That is except for Martin who would rather die a slow and painful death than gossip with the villagers. Anyhow he hadn't known her new address until she had posted him a note two Sundays ago, after attending services at Westminster Abby. It had been a beautiful day, sunny and warm for December, and she had walked in a whim and sat in the back pew, listening with half an ear to the familiar prayers and hymns. The choir had then sang a soaring rendition of Vivaldi's Gloria, and her heart became heavy with the memory of evenings spent in Martin's company, listening to the same piece on the CD player. He had instructed her on the finer points of the compositions and their history, and she had enjoyed the closeness and the soothing sound of his voice. She'd invariably dozed off, tired after a long day of teaching and he'd gently woken her asking, almost shyly, if she'd like to go to bed. They would barely made it upstairs, pulling at each other's clothes and then hungrily falling into bed, making love until sleep had claimed them both.

When the last strains of Vivaldi had echoed through the vaulted abbey, she had stumbled outside into the bright sunlight, blinking back tears. She missed him with a sharpness that took her breath away and not finding the courage to ring him, had instead scribbled a note on a card bought at the abbey gift shop. I'm doing well she'd written, and have adjusted to life in London. It was a lie of course but she wasn't about to tell him the sad truth; that she was lonely and scared, wishing to be back home where everything was safe and familiar. She had hastily scratched her address below her name, sealed the envelope and watched it fall through the narrow slot of the post box. Maybe he'd make the effort to write or even visit, now that he knew where she lived. But she had given him her email address and had yet to receive a message, likely because he had put the ordeal of their relationship behind him. Maybe it was time for her to do the same.

Louisa turned her attention back to Toby when he said, "No, Aunt Muriel didn't have any specific details." He was frowning now, the smile wiped away from his face. "You don't think I was following you? I swear I wasn't. It was a coincidence pure and simple, seeing you on the train."

"Of course it was." She picked up her menu and said warmly, "What should we order? I'm famished."

Toby ordered roast chicken and papperdelle to share, and Louisa eyed him from across the table - he hadn't changed much over the years other than a few fine lines around his eyes that just added to his good looks. So what if he had been following her? No harm done, and there were worse ways to spend an evening. She decided to enjoy the food and company, and they were chatting easily about work and the expense of living in London- wasn't it crazy?- when Louisa asked, "How is Danny? I haven't seen him in ages." Well, it really had been a little over a year, not ages, since she'd turned down Danny's marriage proposal. He had left the village in a huff and a year later she had become engaged to Martin. Not an impressive track record, she thought, taking a generous sip from her wine glass.

"Danny seems to have turned a new leaf, truth be told. His firm is involved with repurposing rundown storefronts into lodging and schools for homeless teens. That's where I saw him last week, at a fund raiser for the charity bank rolling the project. Some religious outfit, I don't remember the name."

Louisa said, a little bemused, "Who would have thought? Your cousin never struck me as the altruistic type."

Toby shot back, "That's because he's not. He's getting something out of this, mark my words." Then he stopped, shaking his head. "Don't listen to me. I've been working in finance for far too long and it's warped my view of humanity."

"Tell me more about your work. It sounds exciting," said Louisa, happy to move on to a subject that didn't involve Danny. Obviously there was still plenty of animosity between these two.

"Not really. I manage funds for wealthy clients, annuities, that kind of thing. The upside is that I get to see the inside of the best hotels and restaurants in town. My clients have discerning palates to go along with their pocketbooks."

"This must be rather low brow for you," said Louisa waving at the cozy room with faded prints of the Coliseum and sun drenched olive groves. "Rather the opposite," Toby answered, a boyish grin spreading across his face. "I much prefer this to Claridge's or the Ritz. That's where my clients of a certain generation like to dine." He leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "It's like having dinner at a nursing home, except with better food and service."

Louisa giggled. "It sounds like the Crab and Lobster on most nights, minus the good food and service. You must remember it? It's the only pub in the village."

"Oh yes. Danny and I used to go there for the quiz night, the smart uni boys against the village idiots. But we got creamed every time by a bunch of septuagenarians. I swear the game was rigged."

"Well it hasn't changed much. There's still a quiz night, and once a week they run a dart tournament with discounted drinks for the village's pensioners. It's very popular, but invariably someone got a dart lodged in their backside. Martin got fed up with being called to patch up the injuries and threatened to shut them down…" She trailed off. "Sorry, I'm just nattering on."

"Is that the GP's name? Martin?"

"How do you know about the GP?" asked Louisa warily when she remembered Aunt Muriel and her wagging tongue.

Toby shrugged, "Danny or was it my aunt said something about you and the GP calling off the wedding…" he trailed off.

"He's a very good doctor," said Louisa quietly.

Toby looked at her thoughtfully. "And I'm a very good listener, if you ever need to talk."

After an excellent dessert of homemade cannoli and steaming cups of espresso, Toby walked Louisa to her bedsit. The wind had died down, but it was still cold and damp and she shivered, wondering which of the many boxes littering her bedsit contained her down coat. It wasn't very fashionable, bulky and shapeless, but it did keep her warm. Her wardrobe was causing her a certain amount of anxiety, better suited to village than city life, and she had spent the better part of an afternoon scrutinizing every piece of clothing she owned. Having found her wardrobe lacking in the fashion department, she had taken to prowling the high end resale shops in Kensington and Mayfair. Necessity, along with a good eye for quality made her a savvy shopper, and she had found a cashmere jumper in a flattering shade of red and a fine black wool skirt to match. A pair of knee high boots completed the outfit, and she was happy to have worn her finds today, secure in the knowledge that even if dinner with Toby was a disaster, she was dressed for the part.

But dinner with Toby had not been a disaster. She had enjoyed herself, despite her misgivings, and thanked him as they neared her building.

"It was my pleasure, really," said Toby. "You saved me from another frozen dinner from Marks and Sparks."

Louisa laughed, "Happy to come to the rescue. Anytime, really."

"That sounds promising." His eyes held hers for a moment and he leaned over to brush his lips against her cheek. They were soft and warm to the cold of her skin, and she smelled soap and the wine they had for dinner, along with something else she remembered from all these years ago.

Louisa felt his gaze on her back as she ran up the stairs and unlocked the heavy front door, letting it slam shut behind her. Turning, she pulled aside the curtain covering the side window and watched him walk away into the inky darkness before starting up the long flight of stairs to her bedsit.

She let herself in, kicking off her boots and dropping her bags by the door. The flat was dark, and she didn't switch on the lights but instead walked to the window overlooking the mews and roofs and chimney pots. It was a moonless night, and she could only see shapes outlined against the dim glow of the city lights, gently shifting into the sea lapping on the beach below her cottage. This would ordinarily have brought on a crop of fresh tears, but now she turned away and reached inside her coat pocket for Toby's business card. He had neatly printed his mobile and address on the back, and she fingered it almost like a talisman. Just maybe this would be the start of something new.