Here is an extra-long chapter for my faithful readers. Some of the dialog many readers will recognize from Series 2 and Series 6; The dialog is borrowed and intermixed with my thoughts for the scenes I have attached them with. I do not own any of the characters from this series and do not make any money from this story. I just like to play with them, some more than others.
This chapter settles one mystery so now the story can move on the other one.
Warning: Abortion is mentioned in this chapter and may be offensive to some.
Chapter 31
Exit Stage Right
"A blessed thing it is for any man or woman to have a friend,
one human soul whom we can trust utterly,
who know the best and worst of us,
and who loves us in spite of all our faults."
- Charles Kingsley –
Ruth looked delighted by the comedy happening at the kitchen table at the farm. Joan was entertaining Phillip with a spoon holding the mushed peas, and Phillip was ensuring it was not entering his mouth. When the peas did make it into his mouth the expression on his face made her smirk.
"Why don't you try putting that chunky stuff on the end of the spoon with the peas, maybe he'll eat them together?" Ruth asked.
Joan turns her head, to face her know-it-all sister, and replies, "Don't you think I tried that? He eats his peas for Marty, I've seen him do it countless times. This is his way of rebelling. In the past, I bribed him with pudding and got him to eat most of his vegetables."
"Then why don't you do that now?"
"You can see it sitting on the table right there but for some reason, that ploy is not working tonight."
"As the psychiatrist in the house, I believe you have been outwitted by your fourteen-month-old great-nephew," Ruth amusing states.
The bantering between the two is interrupted by Ruth's mobile and she leaves the table to answer it. After a few minutes, Ruth returns with a disturbing expression on her face.
"That was Fred Jenkins. He can meet us tomorrow afternoon down at the pub. It seems Margaret has plans to meet a friend for lunch. He will drop her off and her friend will drive her back to Mousehole."
"Why the concerned face?"
"Not sure. I just feel Margaret is up to something. Fred couldn't recall the friend's name."
"Did he say where they were meeting?"
"No, he said Margaret was talking to her friend now and would have the address of the restaurant later when she was finished."
"I would have liked to have Margaret at this meeting but maybe Fred knows her agenda and we can put that information together with what she has done in the past," Joan adds.
"I am not going to worry anymore tonight about Margaret. What I want to do is find out all about dragons with Phillip. Louisa said it is his new desired books."
"I will clean him up while you clean up his tray," she says with a smile. "Where did Al put his bag?"
"He put it on the sofa," Ruth says as she runs a wet flannel across the tray. As she picks up the spoon and bowl of uneaten peas Ruth sniffs the remains of the green mess.
"No wonder he won't eat this, it looks and smells awful, it doesn't look like just peas, what did you mix these with?"
"I didn't, Martin packed it. It is a blend of peas and leeks. I should have just cooked up fresh garden peas for him."
Ruth sniffs the bowl again, with curiosity plainly displayed across her face, she dipped her finger into the bowl and brings the contents to her lips. Tasting a bit before saying, "It doesn't taste too awful mixed together. Maybe he doesn't like the combination."
"Marty said it was one of his favorites and that is why I assume he packed it for Phillip. It could be Phillips is not happy his parents aren't here. I know he enjoys mealtime with his father."
"They do have a special bond, don't they?"
"Phillip brings out the best in Marty. I was worried that he was going to have problems being a father. We spoke before he was born. He was worried he would be like his father. His belief that he could be anything like Christopher frightened him. But from day one, and with Louisa's help he has been the best father to Phillip. I can't wait to see him with the twins."
"Another boy, maybe two more will be easy for Martin. If the other twin is a girl, I don't know how Martin will handle it."
"He'll be the typical father of a daughter. Very protective."
Ruth thought of Joan's words; it would be nice to have a grandniece in the family. If the twins are anything like Phillip it was going to be a busy household, but a little girl would be nice.
ME/LM
I watch the sunrise out the window. Awed of the beauty of the morning sky. A series of reds, blues, and purples in the clouds, engineered by the rising golden orange sun, stretch as far as my eyes could see. There could be storms on the horizon today, I thought to myself.
I look down once more at my wife, the woman that has given me so much in the short period of my life. Sliding my hand across her ever-expanding body, feeling the pressure of one of my children she is carrying, move to press back against me, and realize a tear sliding down my cheek. I can hear Louisa's breathing change, becoming more uneven, as she slowly wakes. I close my eyes wrap myself in her essence and kiss her neck,
"Good morning," I say in between my kisses.
Louisa hums as I kiss and snuggle her closer into me. She is warm, and her silky-smooth skin causes my senses to adjust to her closeness as I pull and wrap her up in my arms. The feeling of melting into her and wanting to become engulfed in the aroma that makes up my beautiful wife.
All too soon Louisa nudges me so she can escape to the toilet as she does so often. I take the time to get dressed and head downstairs to start our breakfast. While we eat, we plan out our day which wasn't much as I wanted to just relax with her as much as possible, knowing that these moments will shortly disappear when the twins are born.
Louisa seemed anxious in our talk, so often lately, I asked what was on her mind.
"Louisa, why are you restless this morning?"
I know whatever is on her mind is making her nervous as she pulls her bottom lip deeply between her teeth. Her eyes have that glint of unshed tears as if the moment she tells me, she will cry.
"Mar… hmm Martin there is something you should know."
I am about to ask if it is more gossip, but she stops me when she touches my forearm.
"Let me tell you everything before you interrupt," she says.
"Why don't we get comfortable on the patio before you start?" I ask.
Nodding, she gets up from the table and walks to the sliding door, walks out onto the patio, sits in the double chaise, and pats the space next to her.
Taking the requested spot, I look at her waiting for her to start. After taking my hand in both of hers she starts.
"Martin, your mother has been visiting the village," she blurts out more quickly than she planned but didn't know any other way to start.
Of course, this is the last thing I thought she would say, my mind was more tuned to whether Morwenna is leaving to marry, or Bert has decided to close the restaurant so he can brew illegal whiskey, anything but to hear that my mother is in the village.
She notices that I want to talk and shushes me with her hand on my lips.
"Do you remember the Saturday in the village when my knickers were discovered by the cleaners in your suit pocket, well that same morning your aunts thought they saw your mother outside the fish seller's door looking up towards the surgery. She was disguised with huge sunglasses and a scarf. Joan contacted the Wilson Hotel thinking that would be the most reliable place she would stay. They couldn't find her and we haven't seen her since. She did try to contact Joan by phone at the farm according to Al. He answered the phone when Joan was at our house and the caller said her name was Margaret."
She could see the panic in my eyes.
"As far as we know your mother has not made contact with Phillip. As soon as your aunt told me what they saw I spoke with Poppy and Morwenna. Poppy won't allow any strangers near Phillip and Morwenna is keeping an eye out for Margaret coming to the surgery."
She sees him visually begin to relax with her words.
"Joan and Ruth believe they have figured out where she is staying and have spoken with Alistair. He was able to extend the injunction to include Portween. PC Penhale received the paperwork, and he was to contact the authorities where Margaret is staying."
"Why didn't you tell me when you first discovered that she was in Portween?" Martin asks.
"Joan, Ruth, and I wanted to protect you. I remember what she said to you when your parents visited the village to steal Joan's farm. I won't allow that woman near you again," she says as she reaches to intertwine their hands.
"I don't care what she says to me, I am a grown man that is loved by a wonderful woman. My concern is what she can do to you and Phillip."
We sat in silence for some time. My mind went over everything Louisa had said and I didn't like the prospect of her meeting my mother while pregnant. Louisa is very protective of Phillip as well as me; she showed that several times by defending me in the village.
"I need to think…"
"We can go for a walk," she interrupts.
"No, I need to deal with this news alone. I'll go stretch my legs down near the beach. The waves will help me think."
I get up, kiss her forehead and make my way toward the water.
I make my way down to the water's edge; watching the roll of the waves going in and out as I lose myself in my thoughts. The memories of the abuse I received as a child from my parents, but especially from my mum. I realize I have been lost in my thoughts for over an hour when my mobile buzzes. I look one last time at the waves before turning to walk up to the path, I catch movement off to the right, just off in the distance coming my way… I stop short at the sight of my mum walking towards me.
ME/LE
Margaret spent the morning worming her way for information on how to get where she needed to be today. It started last evening as she lied to Fred about wanting to visit a girlfriend that called her earlier that day.
'She wants to meet for lunch and do a bit of shopping in a place called Perranporth. Do you know where that is?'
Still upset that Fred wouldn't let her take his car, she found herself standing in the lobby of the Ponsmere Hotel talking to the manager for help in calling for a taxi.
After several tense minutes of listening to directions and having those instructions relayed to the taxi driver, she was on her way to meet her son. Margaret looked out the windscreen of the vehicle as it made a turn toward her final destination.
"What are those ghastly-looking buildings she asked as she noticed row upon row of rectangular-building like structures?"
"Those are the caravans and campsites for holiday visitors."
"Why would anyone want to stay there when there are perfectly good hotels?"
"Hey lady, not everyone can afford those hotels down by the beach. We're not all made of money," he says, as he scowls at her through the rearview mirror.
The car slows in a small car park, stopping at the very edge that looked out towards the water.
"That will be £40.00 and that path over there will get you to the coastal path," he says as he turns and looks over his shoulder.
"I thought you were taking me to the coastal path?"
"I did, this is the closest spot love. The end of the public beach is a couple of hundred meters in that direction, the cottage you want is about a kilometer farther."
"How am I to walk in sand and rocks for those distances?"
"Not sure, but I have a scheduled appointment I need to pick up. You were a favor for my brother-in-law at the hotel to take you," he responds.
He quickly unbuckles his belt to get out of the car and walks around the car to open the door for his paying customer. After helping her out and pointing to the path leading down towards the water, he slams the car door closed and scurries around to the driver's door.
Margaret turns around to look down the path and before she can utter a disparaging word at being left alone the taxi drives away.
ME/LE
Louisa knows she needs to allow Martin time on his own. She gave him all the information she had, now he had to decide how to deal with his mother.
The sound of her mobile brings her out of her thoughts; Maybe it's Martin. When she reaches her phone, she sees it is Joan calling.
"Good morning, Joan."
"Morning Louisa. Just calling to hear the news of your appointment."
"Everything went very well. The twins are growing, and we still don't know the gender of the bashful one. Martin has the numbers all written down, but he is out for a walk. I'll make sure he has them when we see you on Sunday. How is Phillip?"
"He is fine but was a fussy eater last night. It seems only Marty can get him to eat his peas. I think I wore more of them than I got down him. Ruth is feeding him this morning."
"Oh, Joan, I hope he isn't too much trouble."
"Nonsense, he is a joy. Before I forget, we have an appointment with Fred Jenkins at the pub this afternoon. Maybe we can get some answers."
"Joan, I told Martin about Margaret. I felt so guilty keeping her appearance in the village from him."
"How did he take the news?"
"That's why he isn't here but on a walk. Clearing the air, he was upset we kept it to ourselves. I should go look for him, he left after breakfast, and it is nearing lunch time…. I'm worried."
"Go look for Marty but take care and don't rush. Don't want you to hurt yourself."
"I will, Joan. I'll call tonight to find out what you learned. Kiss Phillip for us and tell him to eat all his vegetables for his daddy."
Louisa disconnected her call and walk out of the cottage toward the path to find her wandering husband.
ME/LE
The memories insinuated themselves in my consciousness, mocking memories – that voice belittling my achievement at every turn.
I close my eyes trying to stop those vile memories from continuing. Then I hear a different voice, a lovely sounding voice of strong praise and love, drowning out the horrible darkness of the cupboard under the stairs.
I stand, staring out at the sea, just off to my left I notice movement. Thinking it is likely walkers from the public beach, I decide I need to return to the cottage when a familiar voice calls me out of my thoughts.
My expression is stern – almost angry – but when I hear my name called, I feel like that boy in the cupboard.
"Martin," she voices a bit out of breath. It has been a long trek for the past hour and luckily, she found him alone away from the cottage.
I am voiceless, my memories have come to life, and she is walking closer with each second.
"Martin, I need to talk to you."
"Mum," I sound like that frightened little boy. Get a hold of yourself.
"Son, can we talk?"
"Will this be like the talk we had the last time you visited when you tried to steal Joan's house – I sold my flat in London last time, I don't have any more to sell."
"I caught your father having an affair. I thought we were happy, and I was angry when we last spoke."
"Yes, I remember you saying. I tried to help, and you laughed at me for not being like my father. All you said was he reached the top of his profession but denigrated me for being a GP. You said you wasted forty years of your life with him, he no longer saw you as a woman because of me. No matter what you did to make me disappear; boarding school, summers with Joan, your husband no longer touched you. You said your failed marriage was my fault because I was the problem – always needy, always bullied, always peeing the bed."
My agitation is giving me more strength than I thought I could muster; this will not be a repeat of her last visit.
"But somehow, I was always there between you and dad, until the money ran out and you found a lover so you could divorce him. What did your lover run out of money also?"
I have never been this emotional even during my therapy, maybe it is the love of a woman that has finally opened my eyes and given me strength.
"For over forty years I thought I had a mum that at least wanted me but… No, you told me that wasn't so…"
I take a deep cleansing breath as the memory of that day comes to mind.
"Sitting in my kitchen, you told me that you wasted your time and I apologized to you for your marriage failing. That day I learned just how much you hated me."
Realizing she has made a serious mistake in her approach, Margaret changes tactics.
"I made mistakes. I said some unpleasant things the last time I saw you. I just wanted to apologize."
"Why are you really here?"
"I have no home to go to."
"What happened to the property in Portugal?"
"I had issues with money and had to sell it to settle my debts."
Margaret tried to give him her most pleasing look before she continued her begging.
I need some money, Martin. Just a small amount to buy a small apartment in Lisbon. Maybe three-hundred-thousand."
She can see the doubt on his face about her request for money.
"Two-hundred-thousand," she adds quickly.
"I don't think so."
"You would see me homeless, destitute, cast out in the street?"
"Of course not."
"Thank you."
"I wouldn't see you. I wouldn't have any contact with you at all."
"You were always an awkward strange little boy."
"I didn't think you spent enough time in my company to realize."
Margaret sees Louisa approach and makes a snide remark… "Trollop," she mutters under her breath.
Louisa watches her husband as the hurtful, condescending words flowed from Margaret's mouth. His face transformed from the impressive adult that made up Doctor Ellingham to that of an abused child. His eyes are wide with a hurt look; a deer-in-the-headlights gaze as he realizes how much the woman hates him. Suddenly a glint of stone in his eyes and the man she knew resurfaces.
"As you say, if I was unwanted and a burden to you then why didn't you abort me from your body? My life would have been exceedingly better."
Louisa is stunned by the sound of his voice, carefully she reaches for his hand as she approaches.
Before Margaret could refute or agree to his statement he continues.
"But again, I am thankful that you didn't as I would never have had the love of Joan, and Ruth growing up."
Slowly Louisa can feel his grip increase as he lifts her hand to hold it against his chest, over his heart before continuing.
"You have given me nothing for the past forty years, but this woman, my wonderful Louisa in just a short two years has given me everything I ever wanted."
Louisa moves closer, placing her free arm into the crook of his elbow, and pulling herself closer to his side.
"You didn't want me so I have nothing to give you. Go back to wherever you crawled from and never darken my threshold again."
Louisa knows now is the time to end this interaction and get Martin back to the cottage, "Margaret, there is a court injunction against you – meaning that if you come anywhere near my husband, Joan, Ruth, or my children again I will be forced to enforce it. As Martin said, DO NOT involve yourself with Martin ever again. You are not his family."
With a slight tug, I pull Martin back and turn us back towards the path to the cottage.
The words exchanged have caused Louisa some difficulty…. Her blood pressure has rocketed… contractions, like pain, but she continues to walk her husband along the path. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, now is not the time to go into labor.
Louisa pulls me across the patio, into the lounge of the cottage, and onto the sofa.
"Oh, Martin."
She wraps her arms around me, stoking my hair and murmuring words of comfort.
My heart aches for her.
The idea, a mother could use those words towards her child was beyond her comprehension; it went against everything she felt as a mother.
We sat for hours, she let me talk. As I spoke, I became calm; the longer I spoke of my abuse by the hands of that woman my symptoms from the panic attack, nausea, tachycardia, and palmer sweating disappeared.
His eyes held so much pain, all Louisa wanted to do was show her love and support for this man, her husband. She continued to watch the emotions flash through those eyes as he reached out to her. Slowly he slides his large hands up her arms towards her shoulders, leaning forward, his kiss is tentative as if asking for permission. The little boy wants and needs to be held and accepted.
"Martin, you are my rock in my life. Let me be your rock," Louisa says as she leaned her face toward his.
His lips at first were tender and giving as she received him, gently returning her love. His heart greedily wanted, needing as he laid his very soul bare in that kiss.
Louisa pulled away after a moment, stood, and pulls him into her arms, intertwining themselves into another kiss that seems to last forever. She pulls away again and leads them upstairs for a more private interaction.
ME/LE
Earlier, in Portween, three people sat in the village pub discussing Martin's mother. The sisters aren't receiving any new information on why Margaret is here.
"All I know is she has friends here and in other villages around Cornwall. I thought she was visiting you, Joan, when I dropped her off."
"No, she isn't one of my friends and she hasn't visited me in the village or out at the farm."
"I don't understand then."
"Has she ever mentioned our nephew, her son Martin Ellingham?" Ruth asks.
"No. When we first reacquainted ourselves in early summer, he was all she spoke about."
"When exactly was that?"
"At Christopher's funeral. We went to dinner a few times in London before I returned home, and she asked if she could visit. As I said, she has friends around here and has been visiting them this last month."
"Do you know how long she plans to stay with you? I mean, is she planning to return to Portugal?"
"Why aren't you asking Margaret what her plans are?"
"For one, she isn't talking to us, and secondly we don't want her around Portween," Joan scowls her reply.
"I don't understand."
"Margaret wasn't happy with the outcome of Christopher's will. He didn't leave her anything. Their divorce settlement cut her out of any inheritance," Ruth states.
"I still don't understand. Margaret said she has a nice villa in Portugal. The cost of living there won't cause her any issues. If she wishes, she could sell it and come live with me. You know I have always loved her."
The sisters exchange looks, both thinking something is rotten in Denmark. Margaret's actions in London told them differently. Just as Joan was about to ask Fred's phone rang.
"Sorry, it's Margaret. I need to take this, I dropped her off this morning to shop with a friend."
They watch as Fred answers his mobile. He quietly talks but the shouting voice from the phone could be heard across the table.
"I'll be there in an hour. Where did you say you were exactly so I can put in the Satnav?"
He disconnects his call, and looks at the sisters, "I need to go pick up Margaret. She is very upset about her visit to her friend. Do you know where the Surf Bay Bar is in Perranporth?"
Joan's expression turns to stone.
"Is that where Margaret is meeting her friend?
"Yes, I dropped her at the Ponsmere Hotel, her friend was to pick her up there, but she didn't. Margaret has been wandering around shopping waiting and calling her friend, but she doesn't answer her mobile, so Margaret wants to go home."
"Ruth, Marty, and Louisa's cottage are located north of Perranporth."
"She wouldn't dare, would she?" Ruth states thinking the worse.
"Fred, I know where it is. Your GPS gizmo more than likely won't work, too many dead spots. Follow us in your car. We want to talk to Margaret's face to face," Joan says as she starts grabbing her bag.
Almost an hour later, Joan turns onto the B3285, "Ruth watch for the sign for Tollgate Farm Caravan and Camping Park, the bar is just passed it. Do you believe she went looking for Marty and actually found the cottage?"
"If her loud conversation with Fred was an indication, I believe she did and the talk with Martin didn't go as well as she thought."
"Have you been able to reach Marty or Louisa?"
"No, neither are answering their mobiles so I left each of them a text."
"Ruth, what if she hurts Marty?"
"Joan, he is a grown man and Louisa is with him. She would never allow Margaret close." Ruth points out the windscreen, "There's the sign."
"Good, not much further."
Joan followed the road to the intersection and safely drives through past the caravan site. "Now look for the carpark sign. The parking should be on the other side of those buildings."
They follow Fred into the restaurant bar, he slows to look around and sees Margaret at a table near the windows and walks towards her. Ruth follows closely behind Joan, who looks to barrel past Fred to get to Margaret.
Margaret at the last moment notices them and the look of disgust on her face almost made Ruth laugh.
"What are you doing here," Margaret asks as the three reach her table.
"We came to discuss a few things with you," Joan sneers.
"I don't want to talk to you two, I called Fred to come to pick me up because I have had a long day. My… friend didn't show up," she says speaking directly at Fred.
"I'm sorry luv. Have you been here all this time?"
"No, I did some shopping earlier while I waited for her to call."
"How did you end up here? I left you in town. Why did you come here, isn't there a restaurant in town?" he asks.
"I was to meet her here," Margaret answers.
"That's not what you said last night."
"It doesn't matter, this is where I ended up today," she angrily says.
"Since we are all together now, Joan and I thought we would discuss your real reason you are here and why you keep coming to Portween. It isn't to visit a friend like you told Fred. You don't know anyone but us in Portween or maybe it is to see your son. But you know you can't do that from our London discussion," Ruth says with a polished professional voice.
Margaret is caught off guard. She hadn't realized they knew she visited the village. She couldn't recall seeing them.
"As I said to Martin in London, I just want to protect him from that unsuitable woman he married."
"Oh, really!" exclaims Joan. "The only protection he needs is from you."
"What kind of son needs protection from his own mother?"
"A son that has been damaged by his own mother," Ruth states.
"Damaged, you don't know what you're talking about. I'm here to help my son. He just lost his father. Has a wife too young to understand the standards of the medical profession. She only married him for his money and getting pregnant ensures getting his money."
"Sounds like you speak of experience," Joan states. I thought you hated Cornwall. I remember you saying that when visited with Christopher."
"Fred, you remember that conversation all those years ago," Ruth adds.
"Ah… that was a long time ago. Margaret has changed her mind," he says looking beseech towards Margaret for help.
"Why do you see me as…"
"A Monster? His whole life you kept Martin away from you as possible. In boarding school, at the farm with me in the summers, and then when you realized that I loved him and he loved me, you stopped his visits."
"We stopped his visits because of your morals. You had an affair," she nearly yells.
Fred is caught up in this last bit. How can Margaret feel having an affair with him alright but not her sister-in-law?
"Why I thought adultery was rather popular in our family," Ruth cuts in. "You didn't have a relationship with your son, and you didn't want anyone else, especially Joan, to have one."
"There were standards to be maintained. I didn't want Martin mixing with the wrong kind of person. Look at what he married – the village trollop. His marriage is the only way she will ever escape that, that fishing village."
"You are the wrong person. Morally bankrupt. Wasn't that what the headmistress called you when you were caught stealing from the local shops?"
"Everyone stole from her nasty little shop."
"Not everyone. It isn't the pilfering or your petty meanness that I care about. It's the damage you can still inflict on Martin."
"I am Martin's mother; I have every right to be here. You two have never had children and can't understand what you're talking about."
Joan almost lost it but the calming touch of her sister held her in her seat. That woman saying such hurtful things about not having a child. It wasn't my fault that nature prevented her from carrying any of the pregnancies to term. There are times nature gives the wrong people such joy.
"Why are you here, Margaret?" asks Ruth.
"I want to be involved with Martin, be a family with him. Spend time with him and the child he is expecting, and of course with you and Joan. I'm older and lonely for a family. I want to spend time with my grandchild, don't you see," she explains displaying a wounded look.
"That look doesn't fool me," Joan blurts out. "You have always had an avarice, insatiable desire for wealth and you believe Martin is going to give it to you if you are nice to him."
"What do you really want," Ruth asks again.
"I spent over forty years married to Christopher and he left me nothing in the end," she angrily says.
"You divorced him so you could play house in your villa with your lover, Margaret. He stole money from Martin so he could get rid of you. What happened to that money?"
"It wasn't enough for me to live as I should. That is why Martin needs to take care of me now, his father didn't provide for me."
"You have to be kidding, Christopher was talking about half of my farm's worth… that was three-hundred-thousand pounds. Did you spend that in less than two years? On what?"
"Not important."
Margaret reaches for her wine glass, a strange gleam darkens her eyes and Ruth knows that Margaret can't talk herself out of her situation without Fred discovering her true self. Margaret didn't love her son, he was the way to the means towards her covetousness in Christopher's life.
Fred sat quietly next to Margaret, this discussion was making him very uncomfortable. He was finally realizing Margaret wasn't what he thought. Her greed would be the end of his current way of life. He always thought Margaret was the perfect woman when they were younger. She said their relationship was temporary, a fling interrupting her boredom with Christopher as he spent his time reaching the top as a surgeon. Margaret's shrewdness, guile, and slyness were all on display these past months, how had he missed it? Her sudden appearance at his hotel in London, her kind words, and her actions reminded him of the times they were together. What a fool he has been.
"If you will excuse me, I have somewhere I need to be. Joan, Ruth, it has been an enlightening day. Thank you," Fred says without looking at Margaret.
"Where are you going?"
"Home. I'll have your bags sent to the Ponsmere Hotel. There is no need for you to come to my home again." With that, he turned and walked out.
"Fred," Margaret yells and tries to stand, but her long walk on the coastal path has made her older body achy to move quickly.
"Leave him be, Margaret. We will give you a ride to the hotel," Ruth states. "Fred has witnessed your pernicious treatment of your son from our discussion, why would he ever feel he can trust you again."
"You are delusional if you think we will let you anywhere near Marty. According to this text I just received, he told you to leave. You don't want us calling the authorities now do you?" Joan sneered.
Margaret's manner became dramatically vitriolic, if still ungracious, "I don't need your help," she spat as she stood and walked out the door of the bar.
Joan smiled at Ruth before calling the waiter over to order a celebratory drink.
"We should inform PC Penhale of her whereabouts so he can deliver the injunction notice," Ruth smirks towards her sister.
"Then our job will be done," Joan says in a salute.
ME/LE
Louisa leads me to the bedroom then turns to me and suggests I take a shower after my time down at the beach. She affirms that she will wait for me on the bed so we can continue our talk. I do as she suggests and feel better as the hot water beats my body. Vanquishing the hurt coursing through me. I allow my mind to float past the hurt and recognize how much I just depended on Louisa for my stability. Her touch, and her presence soothes me when my mum said those awful things. Each time we talk, she empowers my emotions to filter through my barriers and release me so the only emotion left is love and security. The need for her inundates me, I quickly finish my shower.
I walk into the bedroom, Louisa is lying on the bed seemingly in discomfort.
"Martin… contrac…tions."
I quickly move to the bed, but the thought she is only twenty-five weeks along, no – it's too early. The last time this happened she was dehydrated.
"Louisa, did you drink your fluids?"
"Yes, when I found you on the path… I felt some cramping… I calmed myself – thought my pressure was too high. I heard all those appalling things she said."
"I need to grab my bag. Relax as much as you can; slow your breathing."
I run downstairs and grabbed a bottle of water, and my medical bag from the lounge before running up the stairs to Louisa.
"Here, drink this bottle of water while I examine you."
I check her blood pressure… yes, high… need to lower it.
"Louisa, I need you to lie back so I can place these pillows under your legs. I want you to do your breathing exercises. I need you to relax your entire body so close your eyes and just concentrate on your breathing. That's right slowly in then slowly out."
I use this time to feel the firmness of her uterus reassuring myself she isn't feeling pre-labor contractions. Satisfied that she isn't going into labor, I take her hand, palm side up, and rub along the middle. Stroking in rhythm with her breathing. I see her relaxing and move to take her pressure again.
"That's better, Louisa. Slow in and out.
I move once again to feel for contractions, as I press different areas of the uterus the pressure of a foot or leg meets my hand, so I readjust my position, so my head rests against her. I kiss the spot on her belly where a protruding foot of my child pushes at me. I whisper, talking to my child as a father, not as a doctor, I need my children to know I love them and their mother. I feel tears well up and as I hold them back, I try to explain to them that it isn't time.
"Mummy and daddy need you to grow some more. Please stay put for a few more months. Give your developing lungs more time. We can wait. Promise me," I plead.
I put my ear to the area I felt the kicking and hear the faint beating of its heart, the tears well again as my emotions begin to overrun me. I move to the other side and listen again and find the other heartbeat, as I turn my head to kiss this spot, I receive a kick. A smile spreads across my face with that touch.
"Louisa, how do you feel?"
"Better, but tired. Is everything okay?"
"Your blood pressure set off the contractions. Your anger set them off further. I want you to rest while I talk to Doctor Rawle. I'll be right back."
When I returned from my phone conversation with Rawle, I found Louisa sound asleep and crawled onto the bed beside her, my movement pulls her from her nap.
"Doctor Rawle isn't concerned but he requested we keep you less stressed going forward. Since that is the doctor's order, I believe a massage can help you even farther. Let's move you onto your side so I can lower your stress levels more," I say as I kiss her neck.
End of Chapter
A/N: The cottage in this story doesn't exist outside my imagination so I can place it furtively anywhere (which I did). I found an open landscape on the map and wrote this chapter from there. On the map I scanned the satellite images of Perranporth and followed the coastal path until it hit a fork in the path leading down to the beach, just to the east of that spot is a sandy place, my imaginary cottage sits right there.
I loved making Margaret track through the sand and dirt for this meeting. She won't grace this story any further, so I don't know what happens to her after she leaves Joan and Ruth. Use your imagination.
Martin and Louisa will finish their time in the cottage in private. Martin needs to heal and the best way he can do that is to love his prized possessions – Louisa and the twins.