Chapter 7

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The next morning Edith awoke, again before Ellingham, and scrounged about the kitchen for bits and pieces to make a breakfast. Never the best at shopping, Dad had only pickles, marmalade and a jug of quite rancid milk. She quickly dressed and hoped a shop might be open on an early Sunday morning. Half an hour later she returned carrying bread, eggs, cheese, butter, milk and oranges.

Eating was only a necessity for Edith as was cooking. But Mum insisted she at least know her way to make breakfast. Edith was folding cheese into beaten eggs bubbling in a pan when Ellingham appeared in the kitchen.

"God that smells good. I haven't had an egg forever."

"It'll be only a few minutes. There's toast and orange. I've made tea as well."

"No, no. I'm not eating."

"Nonsense. You are having breakfast. Chris Parsons told me you aren't eating properly and we can't have that. You'll make yourself ill. You've shifted the weight, now you only need keep it off your frame. Fish and vegetables are good for the evening, but try to have supper no later than six.

"In the morning you need porridge or eggs to see you through to lunch. Have soup and a sandwich or casserole around one, and you'll stay trim. It was the takeaway curry and canteen sweets that made you pudgy. I like your body now."

Poor Martin. Not having received many compliments in his life, except for his academic prowess, he never expected a woman to say she liked his body. He nearly fainted hearing her comment or - more likely - from hunger.

Given permission by Edith to eat, Martin devoured the mound of eggs she placed before him and several slices of toast with butter. Ambrosia of the gods never tasted so good to a starving man. But then he was starving. He had done without for a very long time.

He was not quite ready to think about his first sexual experience or his second, but one thing was certain, he enjoyed them. Edith had not been treacly as girls were in films. Instead, she had been very patient as he fumbled about and assured him he had done quite well.

Months ago, Robert Southwood told him Edith had a fine mind and hinted that he should pursue her. It had taken him some time thinking of how to do so. Chris Parsons hated her and would be of no help. Southwood was his tutor, not his mate, and was not charged with finding him a girlfriend. As with everything in his life, Martin was on his own.

Well, he had gotten over that first awkward encounter, shifted his weight and won Edith over. Parsons had insisted that one had to find a woman before medical school because there was no time once engrossed with studies. Martin proved his friend wrong and found the woman he would marry.

Parsons' fiancee, Michelle, had followed him to London after a stint as a trumpeter in the Royal Marine Band. She met Chris during her alternate training as a hospital orderly in Devon, where Chris was a medical assistant with a Marine Commando Regiment. He was trying madly to persuade any medical school to accept him when Robert Southwood intervened. Having served in the same regiment as Chris, Southwood convinced St. Mary's that he had the intelligence to pursue medical school. But Chris faltered.

After leaving Oxford to continue studies at St. Mary's, Martin was asked by their mutual tutor, Robert Southwood, to help Chris. He had struggled through the first three years of med school, and Robert feared Parsons would not finish. Once handed a responsibility, there was no stopping Ellingham. He spent numerous hours with Chris, and Martin's focused attention helped him immensely. By the end of his first term with Ellingham, Parsons had made considerable progress and Martin had made a loyal friend.

In gratitude, Chris invited Martin to dinner at their flat, promising that Michelle was a brilliant cook. Not one to socialize, he intended to decline until Chris told him Robert Southwood would be there as well.

The night of the dinner, Martin made a great effort to engage in conversation not related to medicine. As the evening progressed, Felicity Southwood became increasingly inebriated, and Michelle and Chris were exchanging frantic looks unsure what to do. Robert was ignoring her, and Martin had no idea what to say, so he happily remained silent.

Finally, Felicity talked about Robert's current affair with a medical student and that she intended to have the student removed from St. Mary's. Felicity's father was well-connected in the NHS, and it was only a matter of time. Making apologies for his wife, Robert hurried her from the flat before coffee, leaving Michelle, Chris and Martin to speculate on the med student's identity.

Naive as he was, Ellingham thought Felicity was affected by the wine and only imagining the affair. Chris patted him on the back saying: "I'm not surprised the poor devil's having an affair. Felicity could make no man happy. If she weren't swimming in family money, Southwood would have divorced her years ago. He has golden handcuffs and can't be rid of her."

It was in the next term that his tutor began encouraging Ellingham toward Edith. Martin knew her vaguely from Oxford where they shared classes, labs and many first year tutorials. His interest was in cardiovascular disease and surgery, while she was planning to specialize in gynaecology. They were on two separate paths and never had more than the obligatory discussion during a tute.

Montgomery being a common name, Martin did not realize that her twin brother, David, had been at Tonbridge with him. In fact, he and David were academic rivals. At the end of sixth form, Ellingham took the top honours in biology and chemistry, whilst David took those in physics and maths. Perhaps Southwood was right. They did have something in common.

To move things along, Robert suggested they write a paper together about the effect of cardiovascular disease on pregnant women. At their meeting with him, Edith boldly told Robert that his idea was too simplistic. She wanted to focus on a recent study positing a relationship between low birth weight and adult hypertension. Ellingham could help with research.

Thus, their relationship was somewhat brought about by Edith's lover who knew the risk involved in continuing their affair. The golden handcuffs had tightened on Robert Southwood's wrists, and he had to find a distraction for the persistent Edith.

Now, a year later, Martin and Edith were in a dismal Port Wenn restaurant, where she was making him nauseous by eating the saccharine Pavlova. She had hurt his Auntie Joan as well, and the weekend was not at all what he wanted. Why couldn't Edith be more like Michelle? Chris said Michelle was the kindest woman he ever met and soon knew that he would marry her.

That did not happen in real life – or at least not to Ellingham. He tried to sort out his feelings for Edith but had no basis for comparison. Their work together was intellectually satisfying, and they had what Martin blushingly admitted was a good sexual relationship. That was enough for a marriage, wasn't it? Look at his parents. Although he saw little of them, their marriage seemed fine. They never argued, or really talked much to each other, but that likely happened as couples grew older.

He would give Edith a chance to come around after the weekend in Port Wenn and forget about the row with Joan. When they were married, they would live in London and see little of his aunt and uncle. Edith would likely be kinder once the pressures of med school ended. They would have a quite good marriage.

On returning to Havenhurst Farm, Uncle Phil greeted them, saying Joan had gone on to bed. He was just turning in and would see them tomorrow. Then Edith did something very unusual: she apologized to Phil and thanked him for letting her help with the lamb. It was a memorable event for her.

Martin was stricken by her sudden remorse and cheered by the thought that she might be changing even before completing school.

The next morning she appeared as the three of them were having breakfast. Edith greeted them with a bright smile and immediately apologized to his aunt for her rude behaviour. Again, adopting the Lady Eleanor Holles' accent and attitude, Joan responded, "Not at all. Very gracious of you, my dear."

Edith's father was the consummate British politician who always reminded Edith not to burn her bridges. She needed Ellingham both physically and intellectually to finish med school with top marks. Only the most brilliant Commonwealth students would be considered for the residency program at McGill's Royal Victoria Hospital.

Following her four years as a resident in gynaecology, she planned to win a fellowship in reproductive endocrinology. For someone who enjoyed sex as she did, even Edith found it strange that she was fascinated with the mechanical aspects of procreation rather than the pleasure the natural act brought.

Now if she could only keep Ellingham's thoughts of marriage in check. Fortunately, they'll be very busy in their final year of med school, and it will be easy to avoid the subject. Then she'll be off to Canada. Ellingham will thank her some day for not marrying him.

Continued . . .