Chapter 13

Premature

"Martin, did you find Edith?" Rose Montgomery called to him from the terrace.

Oh, God, he had to get away from here. Away from Edith and back to impersonal, anonymous London where no one bothered him. Where he need not talk to anyone. He didn't need the country to relax. He could sleep anywhere. In fact, he felt as if he could sleep for hours, days and weeks. It didn't matter that he was here or in London. He would collect his things and leave before he had to say more. Only a quick good bye and then the train back to nothing.

He was a fool. His father was right. No girl would ever want him. He thought Edith wasn't a girl. Not like his mother. Not pretty and chatty around his father and other men. Edith had a fine mind, understood science, did not have a hint of smarminess about her. No, he couldn't have a girl like his mother – wouldn't want one truth be told. But he thought he could have Edith.

Chris Parsons was marrying Michelle in two weeks' time, and Martin was to be a groomsman at their wedding in Devon. Not something he wanted, but Chris and Michelle had been so pleasantly insistent, he had to accept. Michelle had delicately asked Martin if he planned to invite a guest to the wedding. Without thinking, Martin asked if he could bring Edith.

"Good one, Ellingham," laughed Chris. "She'd save on the cost. She'd frighten everyone away. Don't even joke about something like that."

Realizing his gaff, Martin nodded and said, "Had you there, Chris." But Michelle gave Martin a quizzical look and said nothing. A few days later he saw her waiting outside the library for Chris.

"Mart, look – the other day – what Chris said about Edith Montgomery, I'm sorry. You know he hates her, and you can't even joke about her with him. He was out of line. But there was a reason you said what you did. Do you want to bring Edith to the wedding?"

"No, um, that's fine Michelle. It's really not necessary. She wouldn't want to come anyway. She knows Chris hates her – for good reason – but she knows."

"Are you seeing Edith, Martin? You know – dating her? I don't mean to pry, but if you are, we would want you to invite her."

His deep blush answered her question. "So you are seeing her. No one knows of it, Martin. Certainly not Chris. Please don't worry, I'll say nothing to him. You are such a good man, I can understand her attraction to you."

"Um, yes, we get on well. She's very intelligent, very good to work with, that sort of thing. I know she's not liked at St. Mary's – she can be difficult and competitive – but I think she'll do better when the stress of med school ends. She'll be a first rate gynaecologist. She has great promise."

"Promise is what you see in her," Michelle laughed. "Really, Mart, bring her to the wedding."

"Um, no. When I told her I was to be a groomsman, she quickly said she couldn't attend even if she had been invited. Something about a village fair, her mum's horses. I'm not exactly sure."

"Well, then, maybe before training begins for all of you, we could have dinner at the flat. Chris will be fine with it, I'm sure. We're just happy you'll be with us for our wedding. Chris truly appreciates everything you did for him, and I do as well. Edith is lucky to have you, Martin."

Now, after his ill-fated proposal to Edith, it was Martin who did not feel lucky. He felt awful. Edith was off to Canada with no thought of marrying him. He felt a fool. He had to get back to London.

"Martin, did you find her? She couldn't have gotten far with Violet," called Dr. Montgomery.

Not trusting his voice, Martin shook his head no as Rose began walking toward him: "Are you okay, Martin? Lolly said you were tired following lunch. Do you need anything?" Again, he shook his head no. "Good heavens - you look as if you've seen a ghost. You're ashen and sweating. Have some water and let me check your temperature."

Finally, he was able to say: "No, I'm fine. I'll just rest for a bit."

"Martin, something's wrong with you. Come into the surgery. I'll have a look."

Inside, Martin took a chair at Rose's desk.

"Okay, then, doctor," she smiled at him, "tell me your diagnosis."

"I'm fine. There's nothing wrong. Edith told me she's off to Canada. I didn't realize she was leaving England. It was a bit of a shock. Not knowing."

"Oh, dear, that girl. She hadn't told you? She's been planning this for ages. I had no idea you didn't know. What a horrid thing to do. I'm sorry, Martin.

"I mentioned it to your mother the other night at dinner, and she seemed quite pleased that Edith was leaving. It was clear she and your father wanted you to concentrate on surgical training and not my daughter.

"I must say it was a little insulting, as if Edith or our family wasn't quite good enough. You know that's not the case, Martin. Despite Edith's weak start in life, she has thrived both physically and intellectually. We know she's prickly, but she is a fine young woman, and we're very proud of her.

"That night Henry said you were the one man who could manage Edith and he prayed you wouldn't be put off by her feistiness. We thought you knew of Edith's plan or – quite frankly – I would have brought it up at dinner and not only with your mother in the ladies."

"It's fine, Dr. Montgomery. My mother's right. I should focus on training. Edith should do as she pleases. At any rate, I'll be too busy for marriage."

"Oh, Martin, you weren't thinking of marrying Edith."

Summoning his last bit of strength, Martin nodded his head and looked woefully at Rose.

"Henry and I would be thrilled to have you as a son-in-law. We are quite fond of you. But Edith didn't say a thing about marriage. I had no idea."

"I've just asked her, but she's off to Canada for a number of years. So there will be no marriage."

"Martin, if you love each other, you can wait for her to be finished at Royal Victoria. Henry waited all those years for me during vet school in Scotland. I don't know what was worse – the training or not having him. We had no money for travel, and I saw him only at Christmas and a week in the summer. The rest of the time, it was letters and the very occasional phone conversation on our birthdays.

"Don't give up on marrying Edith. Believe me, I understand her shortcomings, but she is better when you're with her. She is calm. Truly happy. That's saying a good deal for her. She had such a dodgy start in life.

"She and David were born two months prematurely. David was the larger and initially seemed to do well. When he was in primary school, a teacher recommended we have him looked at for Asperger's. The finding was a little nebulous, so we put it down to the youngest son being overwhelmed by four older brothers.

"For a time, we thought Edith might have a similar problem. From her first day home from hospital, she hated being touched and would shriek uncontrollably when held. I was at my wits' end, but Lolly and I would switch off walking the floor with her in this sling contraption trying to quiet her. By the time she was two or so, I'd put her on a horse and either lead her or ride with her until she settled herself. She'd be crying, I'd be crying. And the worst part was I had myself to blame. My bloody ego.

"I was an only child and always wanted a sister. I had to give it one last go for a girl, even though we had four healthy boys. Instead of a daughter, I had twins – each with a problem. A psychologist at St. Mary's said Edith's behaviour was not caused by Asperger's, but because I hadn't properly bonded with her. After her birth, she remained in an incubator in London, whilst I came home with David to the other children.

"The paediatrician assured me that the nurses would care for Edith, and they did. But they didn't hold her and love her as a mother would. When you have babies, Martin – and I hope it will be with Edith – please always hold them, cuddle them, tell them how much you love them. It's so very important.

"I'm to blame for Edith's behaviour and will carry that to my grave. Only seeing you now and knowing the pain she has caused you is horrible for me. I'm responsible for her problems, and now she causes problems for others. I'm so very sorry, Martin."

Continued . . . .