Chapter 6

"Doc, we've got a bleeder!" Morwenna yelled the next morning about nine a.m. Oh God, what now, Martin thought as he stood to open the door. A young man walked in, holding his left hand in a bloody towel. He had on a messy tee shirt, dirt-stained trousers and obviously very old trainers. But as Martin looked into his face, he had a "bookish" look about him - fashionable horn-rimmed glasses and a thoughtful look on his face somehow even though it was creased in pain at the moment.

"Come through. Take a seat," Martin said with a sigh. "What have you been up to then?" he asked as he began to unwrap the wound. Not too long but quite deep. Stitches then. Martin reached for the disinfectant.

"Good morning Doctor," he said with an accent Martin hadn't heard in Port Wenn before. He somehow rounded out the "o" sound in the first syllable of the word doctor. Not French. German? No, not quite. "I was out in the garden," the young man began, " sat down and was about to pull some weeds. Put my hand down in what I thought was a pile of leaves and found an old bit of wire. Not so good first thing in the morning. Guess I'll need a "

"You will need a" "tetanus shot," both men said at the same time. Martin was impressed. Someone is this village who actually understood the need for a tetanus shot. In his experience no one around here got it that cuts on rusty old wire could cause some pretty serious problems. So, maybe his "bookish" thought was accurate.

Martin continued to pull out the supplies he needed and began to stitch. "You are?" Martin asked.

"Luk. Luk Jacobs. Just moved here." He quieted and Martin marveled that here was a patient who seemed to understand the need for quiet when working. Martin stitched steadily and they maintained a genial silence. "Your reputation precedes you Doctor," Jacobs said when he looked down and saw that Martin was almost finished. "I think I am very lucky to have the great Doctor Ellingham if I had to cut myself," he said.

"Yeah, I'll bet." Martin said with some derision in my voice. "I'm surprised someone didn't suggest that you go up to Wadebridge."

Jacobs chuckled. "No, I'm serious," he said. "Several people have mentioned their great Doc when I have met them. Seems you are quite the hero around here."

"Well there are several who feel differently, I assure you," Martin said. But his congenial spirit made Martin think. Did people in this village actually see him that way? No, couldn't be. He must have met Aunt Ruth somewhere. Or maybe Roger Fenn.

Martin then turned to get out the syringe for the tetanus shot and Jacobs shocked him by asking, "Let me buy you lunch later. To thank you. I am trying to get to know the villagers and I promise I clean up better than this usually for a trip to the doctor's surgery. I understand that you have a son about the age of my daughter and I would love the company."

Martin's first reaction was, of course to say no. But somehow this man intrigued him. "Where are you from originally Mr. Jacobs? Obviously not Cornwall."

"No, no. I'm Belgian."

"How on earth did you get to a place like Port Wenn from Belgium?" Martin asked.

"Come to lunch and I will tell you all about it. Sorry, but I guess I need to go now. I have an appointment with someone at ten-thirty. The pub, noon?"

Martin was totally shocked when his mouth opened and "Yes, okay," came out. What on earth? Martin going to lunch with a perfect stranger? At the pub in Port Wenn? Oh well, it was just lunch. How bad could it be and he could always make the excuse of getting back to patients if he was bored completely. Louisa would like it, he thought. Martin knew that she thought it was important for him to have friends. Something about the man seemed as if he might even have half a brain. Oh well, he would see he guessed.

"Good-bye then Doctor," Jacobs said, reaching out to shake Martin's hand. "See you at noon."

"Yes, noon," Martin said as Jacobs walked out the door. "Next patient," he yelled.