Chapter 37 – Dancers

Tasha looked wearily at me with red-rimmed eyes. "What? You mean you'll miss Harbor Day?"

Harbor Day, a unique celebration in Portwenn that had fun with food, drink, rides, and music. This year, Tasha, our part-time physical education teacher as well as art teacher, had taken it upon herself to teach the fourth form a dance routine for the party. She had been drilling the kids over and over, and now she looked absolutely worn out. If I was honest with myself, Tasha looked like I felt. I hadn't slept very well last night, and my night time wakeup lasted far longer than I wanted.

When my alarm went off at six thirty I'd probably gotten only a few minutes of sleep between then and when I roused from the very odd dream just after two o'clock. Now at school on the last day of the term, I was feeling the lack of sleep, plus the disturbing feeling of that really odd dream.

My dream was a weird mish-mash of almost my entire time with Martin; that is it stretched from when we met on the airplane to the present. I sighed just thinking what it would take to get through today and Saturday, and the next days after Martin had gone. And he'd still not talked to me about our little shared problem.

"Well, you just can't miss the show, Louisa!" Tasha went on.

"Didn't have a choice! Hospital can't fit my appointment in any other time." I sighed. "Should have gone private but I can't afford it."

"Yeah, everyone's feeling the pinch," she agreed.

I knew that her husband Tommy had been really working hard to build up Tommy's Taxis, their business. Tasha kept the accounts and paid the taxes while Tommy drove the taxi, working long hours, and did all the mechanical repairs as well.

Tommy used to drive a long-haul lorry for an international trucker but the downturn made him redundant, so when he lost his job, he started the taxi business. Tasha was very glad to have him home, at least at nights. She told me though they were both getting worn out and she looked it.

"Been working like mad, you know, trying to make ends meet. Now I'm just feeling all worn out… you know. Work, trying to keep the kids lined up at practice, getting Samantha to do her schoolwork…" she paused for breath and sagged against the wall. "Just not feeling that well, worn out…" Tasha stretched out a hand and touched my belly. "You'll know soon enough."

I was getting quite tired of everyone in the damn village predicting how I would fare when the baby came. By dates it was due within the next few weeks, but by the way it was so low in my pelvis and I waddled about, I felt any day things might happen.

Tasha went down the hall and I heard childish giggles, plus oohs and aahs from another class room. I was extremely startled by what I saw. Little brats!

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Pauline had shooed away the patients. "Lunchtime! Surgery is closed. Come back at two o-clock!" She practically pushed the last patients from the waiting room. She turned and gave me an informative look. "This way any malingers won't likely come back."

"That's very efficient." I told her with admiration.

"Course it is," she said evenly. "This will give you some space. You need it."

"Yes, uhm… well…"

"I'm sure there are things you need to do."

I nodded and retreated to my desk.

Pauline followed me. "Doc! I'm off to eat. Need anything?"

"No, hm, thank you."

"Right." She looked around at the piles of boxes. "Like I said, Doc, Portwenn won't be the same without you."

"Hm…" Pauline left and I rummaged about until I put my hand on the envelope I needed.

After a short walk I entered the Portwenn School and I heard Louisa's voice from down the hall.

"Not only is it silly, it's dangerous!" I heard her shout.

I poked my head into a classroom to see Louisa regarding a room of towheaded and dark haired children milling about, some giggling.

"Martin!" Louisa said.

"This is a bad time," I observed.

Louisa held up some blue poster board with something white and fuzzy on it. "They were making good luck cards for me, and some bright spark thought super glue would be a good idea!"

Louisa held the arms of two little girls who'd made beards for themselves using cotton balls, and had their hands cemented together. A little boy turned his head and he looked like an old man with full beard and moustache. I grasped his head and looked closely. "Acetone, you can get some from Mrs. Tishell, followed by soap and water should remedy it."

"What was it you wanted?" Louisa asked.

"I… uh… have something for you."

She smiled. "That's very nice of you."

I took a step towards her, holding the manila envelope out, when the boy started to leave the room.

Louisa pounced in full teacher mode. "Gregory! You can go outside only when you're clean and glue free! And while you're waiting, you can think how silly it is to play with glue! Martin? You couldn't help me could you?"

There were quite a few things I'd rather help Louisa Glasson with. Scraping congealed bits of cotton from the face of a little brat was the least of them.

It was slow going, but hot water, and some alcohol wipes from the school first aid kit catalyzed the worst of the cyanoacrylate cement and it could be washed away. It was most fortunate that they did not get glue into eyes, noses, or mouths.

I found it very curious that as we worked on the unlucky trio Louisa and I had the most cooperative time that we had in months. Thinking back to an earlier time it was before our wedding date and we were preparing for that happy date. That was our most, and last, pleasant encounter.

Now she bent over the classroom sink washing the last girl free of her modern marvel glue prison. She turned her head and smiled at me. It made me glad to see that, yet I knew, or at least felt, that we'd each failed the other. For all of my attempts to be an adult in my relations with Louisa in the last three months, starting with the news that she was pregnant, we were pregnant, I felt extremely disappointed as well as wary being so near her.

The fact that I was here, less than twenty-four hours before my departure from Portwenn, trying in vain to find a few quiet minutes to say, in my own way, goodbye. I've never been very good at personal communications, and as I walked down the hall with Louisa shepherding the brats ahead of us, I realized that calling off the wedding last fall was right. I was totally unsuited to be a husband, let alone a father. This was the moment when I knew I was right to leave for London. Louisa didn't want me to be here, so I would leave. But there was a last thing I had to do.

"I think it's important we have all the financial considerations covered," I began, "For the child."

She pushed a strand of her lovely dark brown hair from her face. "Well, yes… I assume that's what you meant." I heard the words but her face showed she was not quite being truthful.

I gave her the envelope and she looked at it curiously. "So… this is what you have for me."

"Yes, it's a spreadsheet of projected expenditures. I've included a number of post-dated checks."

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I held the brown envelope and it felt thick, solid; about as thick as Martin's head. This is what he had for me?

"Fine," I sighed. We were now in the schoolyard where the freshly de-glued kids ran about with their classmates. They screeched and skipped around , while Tasha was trying to get her class to line up and practice her unique dance routine for Harbor Day tomorrow afternoon. Martin was thick; as thick as could be. Did he think I wanted money? Well, I could use the money, but…

"Louisa, it's important that you check it!" he almost shouted. "That we are in agreement!"

I stuck the envelope into my notebook on the table. "I'm sure you've gone over it and it's all very sensible and logical." As a girl I took up a fascination with science fiction, both in print and on the telly. As Martin hovered over me I imagined he'd fit in quite well as a Vulcan science officer on a starship. Logical – too logical Martin! That's you're damn problem!

"Right," he squinted at me in the bright light. "Any questions?"

"I said, I'm sure it's fine." I flipped the notebook closed and picked it up, using it as a shield between us.

Then he said something remarkable. "I appreciate that you may be somewhat upset with me."

Upset? No Martin, not at all. You are doing exactly what you are capable of doing. Being thick, rude, brusque, unfeeling. There was no way to reach the man – no way to break through. I thought that once I would be able to break into that fortress he had built. And I did, a couple of times, but it was too much work. And at the end, he didn't want me or the baby. He'd made that very clear.

"I'm not really," I told him. He was what he was. Martin Ellingham through and through. "I just feel sorry for you. First child – that special moment when you get to see its face for the first time and hold it. Form a bond." I have heard mums young and say this, and had read it in the baby book, so I took it as gospel. I had to.

He looked away then back at me, squinting in the light. "Well, there are a number of studies that have shown…"

I couldn't take it any longer. I turned and stalked away but hated to think that this was it. The end.

"So… is that it then? Is there anything else?" I managed to ask. If Martin would go on about medical or financial issues, and he likely would, I didn't want to hear him.

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"That's it then." I cleared my throat as I looked at Louisa, her face lovely in the Cornwall sunlight. "Unless you have any questions…" I petered out. "Or problems about the birth process." Obstetrics was not my strong suit, only having delivered one baby, but I had read extensively for Louisa's sake.

She looked at me. "They have doctors and nurses in the hospital." I heard her sigh and she seemed to speak next through gritted teeth. "I'm sure they're perfectly capable of helping."

"Yes. I was just trying to say," I paused, " I am expressing concern for your welfare." The least I could say. If she'd only let me help her, if she had only… let me be near her.

She was beautiful. More beautiful than I had ever seen her. Her hair brushed back in the pony tail she likes to wear, her eyes brilliant, the maternity top and jumper suiting her slender, yet pregnant frame.

God! Was I really going to leave? London had my new surgery job but it wouldn't have Louisa Glasson. But she told me she didn't want me to be involved with the pregnancy, the baby, or with her.

The school bell rang. She sort of waved her hand. "Better get back then," she said reluctantly. "Before they find something even worse than super glue to play with."

I thought I heard a break in her voice. She glanced away then back to me. "Good luck then…with your move," she added.

So this was goodbye, Louisa? "Yes. You too… I mean…" God, Martin this sounds so lame; so puny. The best you can do Ellingham? "Wish you all the best." I meant it but the paltry words were the finest I could come up with.

The school children were being herded by Tasha into the school and Louisa started to turn. She looked at me, smoothed her top over her pregnant bulge, then took a last quick look and then she turned abruptly and walked to the school.

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Martin stood there, ten feet from me and he might as well have been on the moon. We'd said the last words - discussed money, medicine, and moving. Almost touched on the emotional and I had dreaded this very second for weeks. His suit was perfect, tie neatly tied, shoes polished. His face not glum or blank, but it showed something. Maybe he wasn't a total loss after all – not a total write off.

But looking ahead down the months, years, and decades, we'd never – ever – be this close again. Oh there will be phone calls, and email, perhaps the odd visit here or there, but this was it - the end - the final ending of the saga of Martin and Louisa.

The bell had rung and Tasha was now taking the kids inside after what I could see had been a contentious and disarrayed dance practice. Perhaps it was a lesson to be learned. In spite of our best laid plans, hopes, prayers, or assumptions, dances – and dancers – can fail.

Martin and I had never even danced once. But we had failed, miserably and utterly. I looked at him one last time, touched my belly where the baby was poking me, and turned away before the tears started.