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.
Chapter 10
Louisa
Louisa had never considered taking yoga when she lived in Portwenn. It wasn't on offer at the leisure center, for the villagers viewed anything other than water aerobics with skepticism. Yoga was for the London toffs, they'd say, who marched around the village in their designer jeans and Barbour jackets on weekends and holidays. But Louisa wasn't above trying something new, and had come to enjoy the weekly hour of slow stretching and breathing. It was all very soothing as long as the teacher didn't get started on cleansing diets and colonics, which sounded too gruesome for words.
She had barely made it to the Saturday morning class but glad she did – she had been awaken by a phone call from her friend Caroline, and this had sent her into a tailspin that had threatened to ruin her day. Phone still in hand, she had drifted into the land of what ifs; what if she had stayed in Portwenn? What if she and Martin have reconciled and made a go at it? But Caroline had said Martin seemed unaffected by her departure, going blithely about his day as if nothing had ever happened.
Looking around the bedsit she now called home - the cozy armchair by the window, the cornflower blue teapot and matching cups on the farmhouse table, both a charity shop find – she'd felt deeply hurt by the thought he no longer cared for her. Maybe he never had, and she had slid deeper into herself, letting the hurt take root, a hurt that would later become insidious and far reaching.
But for now Louisa sat on the sofa, staring at nothing, the cashmere throw Martin had given her pressed against her chest. She had finally got up to make a pot of tea, and had sipped the milky brew by the window, watching the increasing foot traffic as people went about their weekend business. London was in constant motion, a place of endless possibilities. This was her chance to start over; a blank slate to draw something new. It was exciting and frightening all at once, but she had never shied away from a challenge, and this wasn't the time for firsts.
Well, to hell with Martin Ellingham. There was no point in wasting a perfectly good morning pinning for someone who had obviously moved on with his life. With a sense of renewed energy Louisa had picked up the throw from where it had fallen on the floor, and stashed it in the far recesses of her wardrobe. She had slipped on a pair of yoga pants and a loose fitting top, grabbed a granola bar, and had hurried to the local leisure center, arriving as the class was going through the first series of stretches.
The yoga had worked its magic; she felt more relaxed then she had in weeks. She stepped out into the street with plans to do the marketing followed by a visit to the Portrait Gallery. But instead she walked straight past the Sainsbury – teaming with shoppers on this Saturday morning- and started southward towards Hyde Park. It was high time she took a day to do as she pleased, and what she fancied was a leisurely walk followed by café-au-lait and croissant at her favorite patisserie. She had made the discovery of the small but excellent establishment while staying at her former tutor and friend's flat in Kensington; Magdalene had been kind enough to let her have the flat while she and her husband traveled to New Zealand. It had given Louisa the opportunity to find a bedsit without having to stay in one of those dreary hotels near Paddington, the only option her budget would have allowed.
The crowds thickened as Louisa neared Victoria Station, and a sudden stream of passengers poured onto the pavement, announcing the arrival of yet another train. She was still unsettled by the crush of people found in the tube and shops, and she hurried across the street, careful not be bowled over by a speeding car or lorry. The racing traffic and noise was taking some getting used to, and she miss the languid pace of the village where traffic jams were usually caused by a wayward herd of sheep or goats.
Even so, she was glad to have left Portwenn. There was nothing there for her, no future, at least not the future she had envisioned for herself. All she had ever wanted was a family to call her own, and this dream had been dashed to pieces when it became apparent she and Martin were not suited for each other. As much as she missed the village – and yes, she dared admit, Martin - this was her chance to start anew, forge forward in a new direction. This would have been impossible back home with her former fiancé stomping about the village and the pregnant pauses followed by pitying glances as she walked to work or did errands. The worse had been bumping into Martin at the greengrocer or school; he'd mumble something unintelligible before hurrying away as if the hounds of hell were at his heels.
The sun was now shining brightly, and she turned her face upward, letting the faint winter rays warm her cold cheeks. Martin's avoidance of her after their break up and the conversation with Caroline that morning had only served to confirm moving to London had been the right decision. She once again felt a deep sadness at what had been lost, along with a newly minted anger at the man who cared so little for her he had gone on with his life as if she'd never existed. The anger served to buoy her new sense of determination; she would get used to this new life, come hell or high water. She had a good job, a nice enough place to live and a few friends. It was up to her to make this work.
The street had gone from modest terrace houses to small shops touting everything from electronics to Indian take-away. Up ahead was a flower shop with masses of brilliant red amaryllis, juniper boughs and white lilies arranged artfully in containers by the front door. On a whim she stopped in and bought a small bouquet, feeling much the Londoner with blooms peeking out from the top of her shopping tote. They smelled lovely and this lifted her spirits even more as she crossed towards Hyde Park, its green expanse now visible in the near distance.
Here it was much quieter; only a few pensioners taking their constitutional along the banks of the Serpentine. She slowed down without realising having done so, the chatter of the park's resident birds catching her attention. A Chaffinch darted across the path and alighted on a nearby hawthorn bush. Louisa stood motionless as the little bird plunked a bright orange berry into its beak and flew off towards a copse of nearby evergreens. A flock of raucous Tits soon followed, and she smiled as they jostled for the best berries, their lively cries piercing the quiet of the park. Birds had never been of particular interest to Louisa until she had moved back to Cornwall, and was asked to teach natural sciences to the year fours. That's when she had learned of the plight of the Chough, an unassuming crow like bird who nested on the high cliffs of the West Country. Targeted by poachers for their eggs, their numbers had declined sharply in recent years, something that had saddened Louisa; as a child, she would watch their antics from her favorite perch along the coastal path. Not many villagers cared what happened to the Chough, and Louisa had decided to champion their cause with the help of the local conservancy and her students.
Then Martin had managed to blow up a prized Chough's nest – a long story involving egg thieves, explosives and a nutter of a friend of her father's (did he have any other kind?). It had all been an accident of course, but this hadn't stopped the local paper from branding Martin "the bird killer of Portwenn", putting an end to Louisa's collaboration with the conservancy. Her involvement with Dr. Ellingham would prove to be detrimental to their fundraising efforts, they had written in a letter sent to the school.
Involved might have been too strong a word; they'd had a few dates, a kiss here and there, but nothing more until Martin's spur-of-the-moment's marriage proposal. But it hadn't taken them long to make up for lost time, and had rarely spent a night apart, Louisa walking up to the surgery most evenings for her supper. Martin was a surprisingly good cook, working magic on the bland white fish he favored. Not only the fish had been the beneficiary of Martin's special attentions; their shared nights had been a wonderful surprise to Louisa, unsure what to expect from a man who kept his innermost thoughts and feelings to himself.
The birds had left for greener pastures and Louisa felt momentarily bereft, missing their cheerful chatter. She turned to look across the lake, empty of boaters on this cold December morning, willing the images of her time with Martin away; it wasn't doing her any good, dredging up the past. But it was a losing battle, the memories coming faster than she was able to push them away. A sudden wave of fatigue engulfed her, and she walked a little ways before finding a bench on which to sit on. And then she let it all wash over her, the disappointments, the loneliness, the fear she'd made a horrible mistake, leaving her beloved village. Made she should travel to Portwenn for Christmas, be surrounded if only for a few days, by people you knew and cared for her.
Louisa had done plenty of crying on the days following the wedding that wasn't, but hadn't allowed herself to cry once she'd moved to London. It was an indulgence she could no longer afford, as it was enough of a daily fight to keep her emotions in check without giving way to crying jags. Now she found it was no use pretending everything was fine, and she took a ragged breath, wishing to be back in the safety of her bedsit, or even better, her beloved Rose Cottage. She had given it her best effort, but the day was a wash, and at this point she'd settle for a pint of ice cream with reruns of Corrie Street on the telly.
She gathered her tote, and had started back the way she came when a man rounded the corner, giving chase to a little brown dog. They were both coming straight at her, and without thinking she bent over and grabbed the dog's collar as he sprinted past her. It stopped short, knowing the game was up, and Louisa ran a hand over his soft tawny fur. "There, there", she said as the man ran up her, a broken lead dangling in one hand. She quickly wiped the tears off her cheeks with the sleeve of her coat and the man exclaimed, "Jasper! You rascal. I can't thank you enough for catching him. You see, his lead broke with all the pulling…" Louisa couldn't believe her bad luck and looked up from stroking the dog as he exclaimed, "Louisa! Goodness, is everything alright?"
She sighed - Toby Steele had materialized out of nowhere just as she was feeling at her worse.