Chapter 6

Succession

The next morning Edith cautiously opens her eyes and is relieved to see that Robert has departed. Good. He knows how she hates early morning chattering. He was there for one purpose, he served it, and now off with him. If only other men understood her like Robert.

Walking drowsily toward the kitchen to start the kettle, Edith spots on the dining table a long note from Robert. It begins with Ellingham's last phone number and contains a plea for her to try talking with him. It would mean the world to him if Martin Ellingham could take up his place as the rightful successor to Robert Southwood. Scowling, Edith realizes that Robert is quite serious about his quest for Ellingham.

Alright then. She owes each of them something: Robert for championing Edith at St. Mary's when her odious behaviour created problems, and Ellingham for being the discreet lover she needed in med school. No gossip had ever been attached to them, unlike many other couples who nearly ruined their budding careers through senseless matings.

Robert ends with the address of Ellingham's surgery in Port Wenn, Cornwall. Port Wenn? She's been to Port Wenn with Ellingham! To his aunt and uncle's farm. Another bad weekend in which Martin sulked because she was not all tickety-boo about their ramshackle farmhouse and his aunt's utter dislike of her.

The only person kind to her that weekend was Martin's uncle. She had walked the fields with him and his Border Collie cutting out the ewes about to lamb and herding them to a shed. After a desultory conversation about her studies, Edith talked a bit about Larchmont Hall and her mum's horse surgery. That struck his fancy, and they had a nice chat. Likely feeling comfortable, the uncle tried to explain what he called "Martin's troubles." Before he said much , they were interrupted by an old ewe whose lamb was dropping.

The ewe was having a tough go of it, and Phil found the lamb was a bit twisted. Although the sheep was kicking them away, they were able to extract the lamb before it died. Edith had watched her mother with foaling mares, but this was quite different. The mares never seemed to need help, and if they did her mother knew what to do. Delivering the lamb was not unlike her med school training when she pulled babies from wailing mothers at St. Mary's. Altogether, quite interesting.

Phil was concerned that the ewe would likely reject the lamb and carried it to the lambing shed for bottle feeding. Returning to the farmhouse with Phil lugging the lamb and the ewe slowly following, both were splattered with gore and muck but shared the elation of a job well done.

Martin was angry first with Edith and then his uncle for not calling in a vet. In her one nice gesture of the weekend, his Aunt Joan told him there was no vet and no money to pay one. This was ordinary life on a farm. Had he forgotten summer visits as a boy?

After supper, Martin and Edith drove into the village, giving his aunt time to collect herself after a very contentious meal in which she and Edith could not say two civil words to each other. The aunt seemed unsure of herself and haughtily asked Edith which prep school she attended. When she responded, "St. Paul's," the aunt had parried with "Oh, a Paulina. Now I see." This old biddy would not have the best of Edith. "Well then, what was your school?"

"Lady Eleanor Holles," said Joan, slipping into the posh accent associated with the London school.

"Oh, yes, a Holley," said Edith, mimicking the aunt's accent. "Although, you're likely the only one living on a chicken farm."

Martin's aunt had abruptly left the table, and he chased after her. On his return, he ordered Edith outside where he scolded her for bad manners. She reminded him that she had given up her weekend to meet his aunt and uncle who had no desire to meet her. Why did Ellingham do this to her? Because he wanted her to meet his family if they were to be married.

This was the first time Ellingham tried this nonsense, and Edith quickly squelched it. "I'm not marrying you or anyone else. I've one more year at med school and then I can choose any place I want to live and work. Martin, I care for you, but I'm not being married for a long time. Maybe never."

Thick as he was, Ellingham pressed on: "You'll change your mind Edith. We've done good work together. When we're registrars we can do our own research, write journal articles. We'd be very successful in our careers together."

"Martin, you don't have a romantic bone in your body. Marriage isn't about doing research, it's about creating a life with someone you love. Even if I did love you, I'm not marrying anyone until I've finished with training. Please let's not talk about this again. Let's just go on as we have been."

When they arrived in Port Wenn, the two pubs were crowded with tourists and villagers, but neither Edith nor Martin drank alcohol and had little tolerance for those who did. Only a few people were at a nearby restaurant, and Edith declared they would have tea before returning to the farm. From the menu, she also selected a Pavlova. The sea air softened the stiff meringue and its topping of berries and custard sauce made for one gooey mess.

Edith did not want the confection, but only ordered it to share with Ellingham who had a fierce sweet tooth. Whilst he sipped his plain tea, she made a show of savouring the Pavlova, hoping it would lessen his resolve and peace would be restored. Ever vigilant about his weight, he refused even a taste.

One night last autumn, she and Ellingham had finished a beastly clinical pathology assignment and were walking from the med school library to their rooms. Rather than part as they usually did, Ellingham continued to her building and awkwardly tried to kiss her. Oh, the poor man. He had been so kind to Edith, she would at least give him a proper kiss.

After doing just that, Edith pulled away saying: "Tomorrow at the library. Ten o'clock. Yes?" With a baleful look, he asked if he might come up to her room. "Are you mad? You're pudgy and I don't like pudgy men. Lose some weight, and I might consider it."

Ellingham was not obese, but he did have the soft rounded face and body of many med students who subsisted on hospital canteen food and cheap takeaway. About a month following their kiss, she noticed that he looked less puffy. When she asked, he admitted giving up sweets, bread and really all carbohydrates. He was eating fish and vegetables and then only once a day at noon. He took her comment seriously and wanted to please her.

Several weeks later Edith heard someone shouting her name as she hurried toward hospital. It was Ellingham's one and only friend, Chris Parsons, who had been decidedly rude to her on several occasions. What the bloody hell did he want?

"Look Montgomery, you've got to make Ellingham stop this diet. He's down well over two stone in seven weeks. It's making him ill."

"Parsons, from the look of you, Ellingham should have you dieting as well. If you don't stop eating, you'll end up fat, bald and doing morphine drips at a care home in the East End."

Stabbing his finger at her, Chris shouted, "If you weren't a woman, and I sometimes doubt you actually are, I'd punch you in the face. Stay away from Ellingham. Stop hurting him. He's saved your arse more times than you can count and deserves better from you. I mean it, stay away from him."

"Gladly" and she went on her way.

Edith avoided Ellingham for a time but found she missed him. They had an easy relationship, interesting conversations about medicine and studied well together. Occasionally, he would accompany her to a jazz club in Camden, or she would wander through museums with him on a Sunday. Maybe it would be worth the occasional snog to have him back.

Since her disastrous affair with Robert Southwood, Edith had not bothered with men. Oxford men had never been the distraction Robert proved to be, but she could not muck up med school by continuing their affair. It had been difficult, but Edith reluctantly dropped him. Ellingham would do for now.

A few days later, Edith easily found Martin in the cadaver room, cauterizing veins. She pointed out that the veins had collapsed and did not replicate conditions he would find in surgery. Ellingham only stared at her, but she saw the hope in his eyes at her return. Not even a challenge.

What each thought was the seduction of the other took place in her family's flat in Kennington, just across the bridge from Parliament. In one of her father's more financially-astute moments, he purchased the property from a bachelor MP in the 1960s before the area was gentrified. The sprawling three bedroom flat was used by her father during the week, and two MPs let rooms from him.

When Edith went from the village primary school to St. Paul's, she and her father shared the place during the week, returning to Larchmont Hall on Fridays. Dad still used the flat, but more often than not was traveling the world on behalf of Mrs. Thatcher's government. At the moment he was somewhere in Argentina negotiating something.

They had taken the tube to the flat, where they were undressed and in bed within ten minutes. Martin's body had improved considerably from the diet, but he had not a soupcon of finesse. She had much to teach him. Afterward Edith found herself nuzzling against Ellingham's shoulder as he dozed. Ordinarily, she would have left the bed immediately, but there was something so comforting about him that she found herself lingering. They did do well together.

Leaving Ellingham to sleep, Edith had a shower, made tea and settled in reading old issues of "The Spectator." A few hours later, Ellingham roused and appeared startled seeing her propped up on a pillow next to him.

Brushing hair from his forehead she said, "Don't worry Ellingham, you're not dreaming. You actually bedded me. How do you feel?"

"Um, fine, fine. I should leave now."

Ignoring his embarrassment, Edith asked: "Cup of tea?"

"No. No thanks."

"You can stay here tonight. It's late and tomorrow is Sunday. Relax a bit and then we'll go back in the morning. We can work on the histology paper if you like."

"Um, yes, that would be good. Do you want me to sleep in the lounge?"

Not even Martin Ellingham could be that dense! "No. I usually find it better being in the same bed with the man I'm going to shag."

"But we already did that."

"Perhaps you'd like to do it again."

Smiling to herself, she recalled a story Robert Southwood told her from his days in the Royal Marines. A young marine asked his Colour Sergeant, "Sir, how does a man seduce a woman?" The sergeant ran through a long list of ways to woo a woman: bring her flowers, candy, perfume, tell her she's beautiful, listen to her natter on and, as a last resort, ply her with drink. The young marine nodded and then asked "Sir, how does a woman seduce a man?" The sergeant laughed: "She touches his John Thomas."

That's what Edith Montgomery did to Martin Ellingham with great effect.

Continued . . .