Chapter 22 – Making a Home

Most of the trash went straight to bin and a few furniture items had to go to the tipp. It was as I thought – a good cleaning and Mr. Routledge's cottage was almost fit to live in. There was a lingering odor of old man, beer, and God knows what, but at least you could walk straight though it all and not stumble over piles of magazines and papers.

The loo needed work, the water heater was a bit wonky, and the cooker didn't always work just right. I was searching for someone to set those right.

I'd boxed up his clothing, what there was of it, after I thoroughly washed it. It gave me insight to the life of an old man who had never married, although he had told me he had a way with the ladies over the years. His worn boxers and vests, and a tatty pile of holed socks made me ashamed when I washed it. I marched myself to the store and picked up some replacements for the old man. No one, and I mean no one, should not be cared for in old age.

The old things went to the bin, so at least he had a fresh start after he went from rehabilitation to Tree Tops, the nursing center. Judy Mills' mum had errands to run in Wadebridge so she kindly dropped me off at hospital to see him. He was just as cantankerous and grumpy as before his hip was broken.

"You know, Lisa," he began, "I was thinking that maybe the old hip getting broken was a good thing!"

I shifted on the plastic visitor's chair, trying to get comfortable. It was hard with my belly in the way, my feet were swollen, I had a pain in my lower back that felt like the world's worst, and I had to wee. But I tried to at least look cheery for him. "A good thing, you say?"

"Aye. They been feedin' me right regular, a warm sponge bath – and pretty nurses – every day!" He shifted in the bed. "Course I did have to have surgery, but the docs here, said our Doc Martin was right. It WAS a broken femoral neck, whatever that is. I guess I was wrong about him."

"About Doctor Ellingham?"

"Yeah. He's a pain in the arse but he does know his medicine! You didn't bring me any Jelly Babies did you?"

"Oh, forgot. Sorry."

His liver-spotted hand patted my swollen one. "That's alright, luv. But like I said, Doc Martin is alright in my book. Why if it wasn't for him, who knows might have happened to me?"

The scene of Mr. Routledge tripping over Martin's large medical case and crashing to the floor came to me head. "Yeah, right." I tried to change the subject. "I'll bring you more clothes when I come next time, and take back these old things to be cleaned. That ok?"

He smiled. "Lisa, thank you. I been on my own so long… well, you know." He looked away. "I guess you know a bit about being alone, now don't you?"

It was then my turn to look away. "What do you mean?"

He looked back at me. "Well… I mean… with your baby and all." His lips trembled. "Listen, Lisa. A long time ago there was this girl, Amelia was her name, or was it Emily? I forget – been too long. But she was this lovely girl, and she wanted to marry, but her da didn't think I made a good enough wage, you see. I got a second job, and tried to save up a bit, but when the fishing fleet got so low, well, the shop sold a lot less and…"

"You didn't marry her," I finished for him.

"You got it right. She married old Bill Grylls; they had that farm out the Moor Road. I seen her a few times over the years and all. They grew a fine family – two girls and a boy." He stopped and gulped. "They coulda' been mine."

A sob welled up but I swallowed it. "I see," was all I could say.

"Then the kids grew up, old Bill died, and she moved to Exeter to live with her daughter," He sighed and wiped an eye then grabbed my hand hard. "Lisa. Even an old fool like me can see that's there something between you and that tosser Doc Martin, and I don't mean just that babe you're carryin' either."

In a panic I stood to go, but he held my hand tightly.

"Lisa – don't…" he turned to the wall, "end up like me."

"Right," I blurted out and rushed to the door. In the hallway I leaned against the wall and felt the room spin a few times, and my breathing was fast. I slid along the wall until I got to a couch and heavily sat. A nurse hurried by, but stopped and peered at me.

"You ok?" she asked.

"Fine. I'm fine. Just…" I put a hand on my belly, "tired. You know."

She smiled sweetly with blue eyes in a golden face, framed by blonde curls. "Oh, yeah. I'm just back to work after having my fourth. Those babies tire me out something fierce. But that's the way it works!" she ended with a laugh.

I tried to smile at her perky face. She's had four? My goodness! "Yes, it is, isn't it?" I checked my watch. "Oh, my ride will be here soon," I said trying to deflect the subject.

"You're alright, then?"

I struggled out of the couch, which was one that cunningly put your bum lower than your knees when you sat. The nurse helped me up. "Sure. Just biology."

She laughed out load. "Don't you ever forget that we woman are tough. Have to be. There's no way the MEN could have any of what we go through!" She patted my arm and marched away.

I waddled down the hall thinking. Just how many babies did I hope, or plan to, to have? The nurse had four. If I was lucky I'd have just this one, and it certainly seemed that I'd be raising it on my own. Martin wanted nothing to do with me. But Louisa, didn't you tell the man, I"LL TAKE CARE OF IT? Hung by my own words.

Martin's yell echoed through my head. "Oh, I SEE! It's your baby when it suits you, but it's OUR baby when you need medical help!"

Not just medical help, Martin. Not at all. I wandered from the building in a daze, just as Mrs. Mills pulled up.

I pulled myself into her car.

"You alright? You look pale, dear!" She tapped the seat harness and watched me close the door and belt in.

"Fine," I got out through clenched teeth. "Just fine."

"Hm," she answered. "If that's what you say."

"Yeah, I do," I answered. "We're tough."

Mrs. Mills laughed. "Yeah, we have to be."