Market

Fortunately Martin was able to find a parking spot in the Wadebridge car park and did not have to pay because free parking was a promotion from the local council. Louisa was quite excited as they walked two blocks over to the Christmas Market set up on the town Platt. It was a cloudy day so in late afternoon the decorative lights had been switched on early, rather than waiting for near sunset.

"Oh, Martin, isn't this lovely?" Louisa stood there gazing at the clutch of stalls set up to sell toys, gifts, trinkets, treats and holiday ornaments. "I wish our village was large enough to organize something like this!"

Martin had just been elbowed by a pushy shopper so he was less than pleased by the crowd of people. "Um, crowded, yes." Wadebridge was an actual town, unlike Portwenn, which was merely a village. He knew the town had times the population of Louisa's home but in general Martin did not care to be in crowded spaces. Strangely, London did not bother him in that way. He looked around the place. "I see a clothing shop over there," he pointed across the Platt, "so, perhaps we could look for a coat for Aunt Joan now?"

Louisa, always interested in shopping, grabbed his elbow and took him to the shop he'd pointed out. Soon enough Louisa was in the thick of shopping for a new winter coat. She asked Martin several times of his opinion about colors and patterns, but all he could suggest was that a solid color might be best. Louisa, assisted by an energetic salesclerk, settled on a pale blue coat, fully lined and water resistant, with voluminous pockets as well as an attached hood which could be removed when not required.

Martin approved of the selection but winced when he saw the price. But Joan spent a lot of time outdoors, so the thought of her being cold literally chilled him. "What about a hat and gloves?" he suggested.

Louisa beamed. "Good idea, Martin."

The clerk pointed to a rack displaying those items. "I can give you a discount on those leather gloves and throw in a stocking cap for free."

Louisa thought that was a good deal, so she pulled out her bank card.

Martin walked towards the back of the store and asked another clerk who was restocking shirts in garish colours. He whispered so that Louisa could not hear him. "Is there a jewelry store nearby?"

"Yes, sir," the woman told him. "Around the corner. Harrison Jewelry. Out the door and to the left. Just a block away." She checked her watch. "They're probably still open."

Martin thanked her, then approached his wife, wondering how to pull this off.

Louisa had finished buying the coat, gloves and hat and the clerk was stuffing the items into a sack. Louisa smiled when she saw Martin come back. "Where'd you go off to?"

He shrugged.

Louisa took the parcel. "Joan will love this."

Martin saw his chance. "I'll take that to the car; no need to carry it about."

"Good idea. What say I meet you by that stall selling Christmas ornaments?"

"Which one would that be?"

"It's near the Town Hall. We walked past it on our way here."

Martin nodded, having some vague idea of the location. "Good."

Louisa tapped her card on the charge machine. "See you in a few minutes."

"Right."

"Have fun," she added.

"Fun?"

She waved a hand and smiled. "Never mind."

Martin took the parcel in hand and fled the store, heading towards the jewelers. He arrived at the place as the shopkeeper was shooing the last customer out. "Sorry, sir," the man told him. "Just closing up. Nearly three." He pointed to the hours painted on the glad door.

Martin said, "Five minutes till the hour." He showed the man the time on his watch then elbowed past the man and went inside.

The jeweler followed him reluctantly. "Now, what are you looking for? How may I help you?" He was tired after a busy day and this pushy fellow had ticked him off. He wanted to kick his shoes off and have a good sit down and a cuppa.

Martin, stunned by the gleaming wares under glass, spat out, "Necklace, I think."

"Ah, yes, over here," the man, who looked like many of Martin's patients, older, stooped, and gray, led Martin to a long glass-topped and fronted case. "Costume jewelry? Diamonds? Other precious stones?"

Martin was puzzled and must have looked it.

The man cleared his throat. "For a lady friend? Wife?"

"My wife, yes."

"Does she wear much jewelry? If so what does that look like?"

"Just a wedding ring," Martin answered. "Gold band with small diamonds. Um, one large one."

The man pursed his lips. "Hair color and eyes? Skin? Build?"

"Brunette. Black with some brown. Eyes green. Skin light in colour. Tall and beautiful. Slender." Martin bit off the words before he said more. He was not accustomed to describing Louisa, or anyone at all, in ways such as he just said. He was usually more prone to say things such as aged female diabetic or gasping and tottering old person, but Louisa? Yes she had dark hair, green eyes and beautiful pale skin, all on a tall and slender frame… and he loved her.

The man ducked his gray head. "So, sir, may I suggest emeralds? Those are green stones, if you don't know."

"Yes, I know that," Martin snapped back.

The old man cleared his throat. "In my experience emeralds look well against the visage of your wife, as you have described her." The man opened the back of the display case and drew out a flat tray. "Now, these… if you look here…" The old man smiled as Martin bent his head to examine the wares. He quickly took stock of the well-fitted suit, white shirt and military stripe tie, along with the fine overcoat and expensive watch. Probably an attorney or a doctor. This one was good for a few Pounds, no doubt. He smiled at Martin. "Now this particular one…" he lifted a necklace to show it off.

Louisa was standing by the ornaments stall, wondering where Martin had got to. After fifteen minutes, she made a few purchases, if only to fill the time, when she heard her name being called. She turned around and saw a medium-height bald man calling her name and waving at her.

"Yes?" she said as the man came towards with a big smile on his face.

"Louisa Glasson! I mean Ellingham – it's Chris Parsons!" the man said. "My wife is over there, shopping, and how are you?"

"Oh, hello! I'm fine, Dr. Parsons." She took his hand.

"Oh do call me, Chris, we've known one other so long 'doctor' sounds far too formal!" he chuckled. "Is Mart here with you?"

"Martin took a package back to the car, and I don't know where he is at the moment. Said we'd meet here," she nodded at the stall. "It's taking him some time," she added.

"Well, hey, let me get a hold of Helen, so don't go anywhere. Be right back." Chris turned away, took a few steps and then was swallowed up by the crowd.

Chris Parsons, thought Louisa, she'd not seen him since that day of the final Portwenn Medical Committee meeting, the day of Martin's arrival in the village. It was obvious to her that day that there was a connection between Chris and Martin, only later finding out that the two men had known one another since medical school.

So was the selection of Martin Ellingham as the new village GP a 'done deal' as they say? No, there had been discussion of his background, questions about his practice, how he came to be seeking a new position as a GP?

"A change of lifestyle," Dr. Ellingham had told the committee. "I am seeking a lower pressure working environment."

Louisa had challenged him – along with his smug face and fine suit – patients not people? She was the only dissenting vote during a very heated discussion behind closed doors. Then the new doctor diagnosed her glaucoma when she confronted him. Well.

But Martin had hidden his actual reason for coming to Portwenn – his blood thing – haemophobia. No wonder he could not be a surgeon anymore! And oh my God how the village disliked the new doc! He wasn't Doc Sims by a long shot, younger of course, but he was so, so curt, brisk, abrupt and rude besides.

Louisa's mind filled with the sight of Martin making an incision in the side of Peter Cronk, then sticking nearly his whole hand into the boy when the plastic forceps had shattered. A Spencer Wells, Martin called them.

Martin explained later the actual surgical instrument name was a 'Spencer Wells Haemostatic Forceps.' Then he'd added, as part of his explanation, "Don't leave home without one."

She had laughed at his unexpected joke. Martin had frowned at her. "Why are you laughing?"

"Joke, Martin, you made a joke."

Martin's face went blank. "Ah, I see."

So, back to the panicked memory of the jolting ambulance, as the doctor who was afraid of the sight of blood, bent low over the injured Peter Cronk, saving the life of her student, there was never any doubt in her mind of her feelings.

Yes Martin was rude and brusque, but a very good doctor, then and always. And… and… she looked down at her ringed finger, colored lights from the decorations overhead ran across it as she turned her hand. Martin Ellingham was her husband, the father of her baby, and the man she loved. Things between them were different.

She was jolted out of her reverie when Chris returned with a blonde haired woman in tow. "And Helen, this is the famous Head Teacher of Portwenn Schook, Louisa Glasson Ellingham," she was introduced as. "My wife, Helen, Louisa," Chris finished with.

Louisa shook the offered hand. "So nice to meet you," she told the woman.

"So nice to meet at last, Chris has told me about you… and sorry we missed your wedding. Chris dragged me to a medical meeting in Falmouth, and I took the time to visit cousins down in that part of the country." She frowned at Chris. "We don't always have our calendars aligned."

Chris coughed nervously. "My fault, that was."

Louisa smiled at her. "Thanks but that's fine. It was… well our planning was very short." She bit her lip, and she thought if the planning had been much longer then it would have been obvious she was preggers – and well before the wedding night.

Helen cocked her head at Louisa, for she was spotting something. Louisa was striking really, the girl had a regal look to her face and long hair, which she wore down. But there was something… hm, she wondered. "I haven't seen your husband Martin for a long time. Now when was it?" She turned to her husband.

"Our wedding," Chris replied.

"Oh my, yes, that was it."

"Mart was my best man," Chris explained to Louisa.

Louisa said, "I didn't know or had heard that."

Chris smiled. "Oh yes, it was right after med school graduation, you see, and Mart was…"

Helen nudged Chris so he shut up.

Louisa asked, "Martin was what exactly?"

Chris looked at his wife's face for a moment because some hidden message was being passed between the two. "Um, available," Chris said at last. "Before we all scattered to the four winds for training."

Louisa snuck another look at her wristwatch. Now Martin had been gone twenty minutes. "I really don't know where Martin is…" She peered around but did not see him, but then she heard his voice calling out to her.

"Martin, I'm over here!" she responded. She saw his pushing through the throng like an icebreaker through an ice floe.

Martin reached her and apologized. "Ah, Louisa, sorry, I… I'm late."

She took his arm. "Martin, look who's here? Chris Parsons and his wife!"

"Mart!" Chris exploded with, grabbing Martin's hand and pumping it up and down. "And you remember my wife?"

Martin's face went blank. "Yes, hello, um… Elaine."

Chris laughed nervously. "Helen, Mart, Helen," he whispered.

"Yes. Right. Helen. Hello," Martin replied to his friend's wife.

Helen stuck out her hand, so Martin had to shake it. "Hello," she told him. "You know what? We ought to have dinner… Chris and I really came here from Truro to look around and have a bite to eat. What you say to that?"