CHAPTER EIGHT REMEMBRANCE
The Characters, places and situations of Doc Martin are owned by Buffalo Pictures. This story makes no claim of remuneration or ownership, nor do I make any attempt to infringe upon any rights of the owners or producers.
Careful - there are spoilers for Season Six Thank you for reading. I welcome your reviews and input. Martin continues reflecting on his daughter's birth.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Martin, as long as you are going to the market I am fancying some kippers. Oh and please get me a box of McVities."
"LOUISA!"
The first trimester of Louisa's pregnancy had gone quite well. She had very few problems with morning sickness and Mr. Smith was very pleased with her well being and the baby's development. More importantly Louisa was very pleased with him and his manner. Such a contrast to her prenatal experience with James. I hate that even came to mind. We both were so regretful of all the misunderstanding that drove our isolation from each other. I know I was overprotective this time, but it was so good to be a part of it all. So I remember that afternoon after the surgery closed. I was going to pick up food for supper. Actually Louisa was taking very good care of herself. My natural response to her request was an outburst, but her simple "Please Martin" had me returning with salt-ladened fish and chocolate biscuits.
Well into the second trimester we were sitting on the sofa with Louisa's feet in my lap. She was tired more frequently and my rubbing her feet had become a nightly occurrence. Feet are not the most beautiful part of one's anatomy, but when they are attached to one you love, to explore their soft geography is very nice. As I gently ran my thumbs the length of Louisa's instep she suddenly said,
"Martin, how in the world do you do that? It was the same with James. When I couldn't settle him, you would take him and he was instantly quiet."
"Louisa," I responded, "what in the world are you talking about? James is asleep." "
"Sure Martin but this little girl is not. She was kicking up a storm and as soon as you are massaging my feet she settles right down. Just like that! How do you do you do it?"
"Well, Louisa, we know I am very good at offending adults. Maybe putting babies to sleep is my calling. Who could have predicted that?"
When we did the 20 week ultrasound we both wanted to know the gender of our child and we learned that we were to have a daughter. A daughter! I am adjusting to being a father to a very active boy, but a daughter. What was this going to be like? Well I supposed I had a few months to adjust to the idea, and 18 or so years to figure it out.
We were tired that night, having been gone all day to Truro. It didn't help that I had only 3 hours sleep the night before due to Mrs. Alwine having a respiratory emergency. James slept all the way home and we actually put him to bed, having not even eaten supper. Thankfully we had soup from Sunday's dinner that we could heat quickly. Point being, we fell into bed early.
As I began to drift into sleep, Louisa, who was lying very close quietly said, "No question about the name of this new wee one, is there Martin?"
"No Louisa, no question. She will be our Joan. I think Auntie Joan would be chuffed to bits."
It was a pleasant thought, but really a bitter-sweet moment as Louisa and I still mourned the death of our dear Auntie Joan.
I was not very much a participant in the first pregnancy, but Auntie Joan thankfully was involved. She had been more a mother to both Louisa and me than either of our own mothers had been growing up. Upon Louisa's return from London it was natural for her to jump to her care. She brought good food and took her to Truro for her prenatal visits. When some townsfolk made snippy comments she helped her shed the hurt and isolation. In truth she helped us both. It was a time of confusion and inner conflict for me, and Joan attempted to help me come to my senses. Her words did not fall on deaf ears, though neither she nor I realized it at the time.
When Joan had died so suddenly after James' birth it was devastating to both Louisa and myself. It was difficult for me to show it, but to this day I feel her absence.
If it had not been for William and Mary Shawcross I do not know how I could have gotten through that horrible time. William was the undertaker who assisted with Joan's arrangements and burial.
I found out later that Mary had been very helpful to Louisa in advising her how to deal with a grieving, isolated and wounded man. Looking back I know I was quite horrible and insensitive. I was thinking only of myself really, but what else could I do? How in the world could I continue without Joan? This had to be what it feels like to lose one's mother.
Now and then I do visit Joan's grave in the churchyard. This is something I could not even have conceived myself doing in the past. "Dust to dust," as they say. If I end up in front of her grave I think I am simply trying to hear the words she would tell me. I never hear her speak, but I always feel better for having been there.
After the funeral and after the gathering that we had at Joan's farm, Louisa and I were driving back into town. I told her I wanted to stop briefly at the Shawcross's. She was fine with that although it was close to her needing to feed James.
I knocked on the door and Mary answered. "Hello Martin, please come in. Wouldn't Louisa like to get out of the car?"
"No, James is asleep and I just need a moment with William. Is he available?"
"Yes of course, Martin. Do sit down and I'll call him. Let me bring some tea."
"No, thank you. I can't stay. We need to get James home."
"Hello Martin." William had entered and shook my hand. "I know you must be tired. I know this is a terrible time for you. I just hope the service was alright and that we were able to be of some help."
"William, that is why I have come. I wanted to thank you for all you did. Your help has been of inestimable value."
"Well Martin, I was just doing my job."
Just doing his job. It was often the thing I told people if they thanked me. When one does one's work well, no extra appreciation is called for. Life demands that we do our job. But it seemed as if William, and Mary I found out later, was doing more than his job. I remember the night he asked me to come over to go over some details of the funeral. I realize now that his reason was simply to allow me to actually be in the room with Joan's body for several hours with hope that I could find some closure. He left on some lame excuse and I did not realize it but I was there thinking, even talking for over four hours, and not without some tears.
"Just doing my job. And by the way, perhaps you could drop by some evening. I could fancy a game of chess with you."
"Yes, William, we will see about that. Thank you."
It is quite interesting but William and I do play chess now and then. Some times Louisa and James come along and she and Mary visit while we play. Several times they have cared for James, allowing Louisa and me to have a break from Portwenn for an evening or for a week-end. They raised seven children so were well qualified to take care of our one little boy. James never balked when we left him with William and Mary.
As I returned to the car Louisa asked me why I needed to stop. I explained that I simply wanted to thank William for all his assistance.
"What did he say, Martin."
"Well, he said 'Just doing my job.'"
I want to thank the following for their inestimable encouragement and help: GriffinStar, robspace54, reallybodmin, Snowsie2011, Boots1980 and Zarie Chuppins (aka my wife Suzie). You'll find Zarie in "An Interesting Man" by Portwenn Hydra.