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As Louisa travelled to school next morning, she felt good. Firstly, she only had a little morning sickness, and secondly she left like a weight had been lifted away. The secret was out and now she'd let her staff know. Sneaking to the school washroom when she was sick and chewing on cream crackers when no one was looking was draining.

She was crossing the Platt when she heard the Chemist's door open behind her and then hurried footsteps trot up behind her. Then she heard Mrs. Tishell's voice.

"Miss. Glasson, I mean Mrs. Ellingham?"

Putting on a brave smile, she turned. "Good morning, Mrs. Tishell. Fine day isn't it?"

The woman squinted up at the broken clouds. "Promises to be bright and clear later, yes." She then faced her. "Sorry, Louisa… I understand that… congratulations… are to be offered." Sally Tishell was squeezing her hands together convulsively.

She looks very frazzled, thought Louisa, with her hair sticking out, cardi miss-buttoned along with red-rimmed eyes. Sighing inside, she replied, "Why yes. I gather you've heard."

"Oh my, yes!" Sally responded exuberantly. "Pauline Lamb just had to tell us at the pub quiz, you know, so I expect…" She paused, then lowered her eyes. "Sorry. I offer my congratulations to you and our good Doctor. How is our village Doc today?"

Louisa knew that Sally always had 'a thing' for Martin. Smiling, she said, "Martin's fine, thank you for asking, and I'm doing fine as well."

The older woman bowed her head with a strange expression. "If there is anything…" she gulped, "I… I… can…" Sally had to stop for she feared she might break down. The Doc and Louisa with a baby! She'd been up all night, pacing to and fro for hours, re-reading her Pharmacopoeia to refresh in her mind all the possible medicines she might be required to dispense to a pregnant woman. "If… anything… at… all…" she had to stop again. Digging a crumpled handkerchief from a pocket she wiped her nose with it. "Sorry – hay fever. Not a cold."

Louisa had taken a step back automatically when she heard her sniffling. "Thank you. I'll come by the shop later for some body lotion. Oh and toothpaste."

Bowing her head, Sally began to retreat in a submissive way. "I'll be waiting for you."

Louisa sighed. Oh, Mrs. T, you poor thing. There's something odd about you; something going on and more than the usual strangeness. Your husband is always away and here you are on your own; working at the chemist, like your mum did, plus playing the church organ, going to quiz night, chairing both the church's and village flower committee. Sending out the quarterly village news clips about fetes and meetings. All of that alone; all by yourself. Louisa watched as Sally retreated back to her shop, the door snicking shut with a snap. A strange thought intruded into her head. If she hadn't got married to Martin at thirty-seven like she did, she might have ended up like Mrs. Tishell. Hair going gray, wrinkled skin, childless, spending holidays with only friends and never family. Shaking that dark vision away she continued to school as the skin on the back of her neck prickled.

When Louisa entered the school, the building was very quiet. No students here yet of course, but there'd typically be footsteps, doors opening and closing, small conversations as teachers arrived for the new day. But now the feeling of something afoot filled the silence. She stopped at the school office, and found it empty, but Sally Chadwick's coat and bag were there. Hm. "Sally?" she called out.

Sally suddenly popped out from around the corner. "Ah, Louisa. Good morning!" she said and then Louisa heard furtive whispering behind her. She turned around and all her teachers yelled out, "Surprise!" and "Congratulations!", showered with hugs and kisses, and a few bouquets. A huge pasteboard card was pushed into her hands, and then then towed her to her office, which they'd festooned with pink and blue streamers and blown-up balloons, in pink, blue and white.

"Well, what a surprise!" she told them. "So, you heard."

"Oh, yes, the news was all over the village last night!" Mr. Branning announced. Other than Mr. Colley he was the only male on staff. "Pauline Lamb ought to get the job as town crier!" he laughed.

Louisa nodded, forcing a smile. "I had hoped to tell you all myself, today." Despite the circumstance she felt a flood of friendship, surrounded by her friends and co-workers. "Thanks for this," she was still holding the card, which she then opened. They had drawn flowers and smiling faces at the edges, around a photo of fat and happy baby, followed by their names and best wishes.

"This is all a bit of a surprise," she explained, "we – Martin and I – had planned on trying to have kids; and this one will be here sooner than we hoped." She bit her lip at the white lie.

"Better sooner than later – or not all. There'll be a cake to serve with lunch as well," Mel told her, the school cook. "Now I'd better get to it, so I have time to fix lunches for the kiddies."

Meanwhile, up at the surgery, Martin was dealing with the usual assortment of patients, however, this morning everyone had advice to give him about parenting, baby feeding, nappies and childhood coughs and colds.

Worse every woman who had given birth spat out their experiences of gestation – everything from conception to birth and afterwards, along with the horrors of lurky, nursing problems, and over-filled and stinky nappies.

He shut his mind to all of it, as he forced their minds back to the medical issue at hand. He was peering deep into the concerned face of Pauline's Lamb's Aunt Jennie, who had not been pregnant, but had been trying to get pregnant for years.

"I mean, Doc, me and my Jimmie we been," she bit her lips, "you know. Tried special diets, special dates, special positions and…" her lips quivered, "nothing."

"And have you been timing this, uhm, activity, using the ovulation charts I gave you?"

The woman nodded. "Like clockwork; I mean I have been and am. It's just that sometimes, he, my husband, isn't so keen. He's tired. Part of the lifeboat crew, and they train a lot."

Martin knew of her husband. The man has overly large, especially about the middle, despite his exercise. Martin found the man to be a fool. Why she wanted to have children with him was beyond belief. "His exercise my be making him tired yes, but over exercising may result in disruptions to the normal male reproductive, uhm, system and cycles."

"Men have cycles?"

Martin opened a drawer and took out a medical pamphlet. "Look, this is one I've already given you, but if you'd read this paragraph it does say that sperm vitality reaches a peak every three to five days. They grow stale, less able to travel and to impregnate."

"Oh," her face fell.

"But men produce about a million sperm every day."

"I see," she said, her lips drawn.

"That does not mean, however, that they are useful or viable." He drew out a pad and picked up his pen. "Would you like me to refer you to the fertility clinic at Truro Hospotal?"

The woman nodded, wiping her eyes with a tissue form the box on his desk. "Yes," she said softly. "Please."

Seeing the agreement, he wrote out the referral. Martin did feel compassion for the woman. "The fertility specialist will examine both you and your husband, do blood work, check hormone levels, take samples – ahem, from your husband – and make a diagnosis and recommendations. Conception problems can be from one partner or the other, or both."

Jennie took the paper then pulled on her coat. "I'm as old as your wife, see, and here you are getting her pregnant straight away and I must say I feel quite jealous." She stood up, then leaned both hands against his desk, as she snarled at him, "It's not bloody fair!"

Taken aback, Martin stood up. "Just because one woman can get pregnant and did so, that does not mean that any other woman can become pregnant or won't. These are mutually exclusive things."

She stood straighter and crossed her arms. "I'm just… been seven years, you know? Me and Jimmie we don't always get along, and sometimes he stays out late, and there's me all alone at home with the telly and our dog and where does that leave me?"

Martin did not know what to say, other than, "Call the number of the medical referral and they will get you scheduled. Right? Now, we're done here."

Jennie turned to the door, then whirled back on him. "What did it take, Doc. Three – four times?" She chuckled grimly. "Quick work that. Your sperm must work wonders! Bloody miracle compared to my useless husband!" Then she nearly ran out the door.

Martin had to sit back down, his mouth gaping like a fish for a few seconds. Finally he shouted, "Next patient!"

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