Marriage

by Robspace54

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.

Thank you for reading and reviews are much appreciated.

Beginnings

Louisa stared at herself in the mirror, after pinning the wedding veil atop her hair. She sighed. Today had not been a very good day at all. The vicar was down for the count with a broken hip and Martin told her he was 'working the problem.' Would there be someone to marry them?

Then her very pregnant bridesmaid wannabe Isobel shot herself in the eye with a party popper; what a horrid thing, and she didn't even want a bridesmaid, let alone two, the other being Pauline. But there it was, everyone telling her what she ought – or worse – must do.

Then Roger and Pauline started putting down Martin right in front of her, so she'd exploded. Told them off and stormed out of the house. Then Isobel followed her up to the point and went into labor at the top of the path overlooking the village. And, Louisa thought, she had only left her house to get a breath of fresh air and to clear her head and ended up being a midwife.

But there was one thing. Isobel told her that basically what went on behind closed doors was no one else's business. That what other people thought did not matter – only she could decide what was right.

Her eye twitched back at her in the mirror and she rubbed it carefully, trying not to smudge her makeup.

Fortunately, Martin arrived huffing and puffing up the path and delivered Isobel's baby on the grass, out in the open for all the world to see. Luckily no one else was about just the mother, her and Martin.

The ambulance had attended and packed up Isobel and her new daughter. Martin slowly checked his watch after the medics left.

"Not a lot of time," he said.

"For?" she asked.

"Uhm, to get ready? Our… wedding."

"Oh, right," she replied. "Better get a move on, then."

Martin nodded grimly. "Shall I pick you up on my way to the church?"

"No, bad luck for the bride to see the groom before the wedding."

"But, we have seen one another, here…"

She had nodded. "Well, but we'll just pretend this didn't happen, shall we?"

Martin's brow furrowed. "Right.

"We do have a parson?"

"Mr. Porter."

"Porter, oh right, I remember him. He moved out by the reservoir."

"Pigs," Martin muttered. "He keeps pigs."

Louisa took his hand. "Is that relevant?"

"Uhm, no. Later… I'll… tell you about that later."

"Problem?"

He shook his head. "No." Snuck a glance at his watch. "We'd best get going."

She had looked quite hard at him for some strange alarm bell was clanging away in her head.

But now… she sighed… she was dressed in her wedding dress. Wedding dress! Her WEDDING DRESS. "Oh my God," she sighed. "Today's my wedding day." She had to sit down, while her lip sprang between her teeth and a small headache began to throb. "Marrying Martin today," she said aloud. "Mar-tin."

A long pause. "Today? Getting married today." She winced. "But…" she began to say. "I'm not sure."

She stood up, walked to her dressing table, found a piece of paper, picked up a pen and began to write.

=0=

After Martin shaved carefully he took his best suit from the closet, still draped in a plastic bag from the dry cleaners. He stripped away the plastic and found himself staring at a sequined black gown. "Bugger," her muttered. "That fool. Nattering away about his marriage troubles instead of properly tending to his business."

He put the thing back into the closet. Selected his second-best suit and dressed carefully. He sneered at the pile holding his previously work suit, the trousers and mucky from kneeling in a pig pen rending first aid to Porter's pig.

Porter was pleased, but still patronizing to him. "All right," the man had said, "I will perform your wedding. Your funeral."

"It's a wedding and not a funeral!" Martin told him.

"Oh?" Porter replied arching an eyebrow. "You just told me that she makes you happy. Not the other way around. You did not say that you made her happy. Think very carefully, Doctor. I'd think very carefully if I was you."

"You're not ME."

Porter looked him up and down. "And I thank God for it. But still… if you are determined, I'll be there – at the church. Four o'clock you said."

Martin stripped off the mucky gloves and stuffed them into a disposal bag. "Right."

Porter smiled. "You'd better get a move on."

Martin stared at himself in the bathroom mirror while he adjusted his tie. He sighed. This had not been an easy day. He ought to have closed surgery for the morning, blocked out the day, yet he was loath to cancel appointments and heaven knew there were always plenty of patients. From splinters to metabolic diseases, not to mention the imaginary ones. And the villagers were so keen to take medical advice from the postman or a fisherman, or worse the Internet. As if a webpage could ever trump his own medical degree and years of experience.

The tie was ready. So was the shirt, suit and shoes. He stared at himself again and wondered if the man inside the garments was equally as prepared.

"You'll be fine," he told himself. But Porter's words had pierced him. 'Do you make her happy?'

Martin sighed. "Unlikely in many things. Louisa did once say I had many faults." Thank God she had not enumerated all of them. He knew that he could be rude and monosyllabic, and yet also shy and withdrawn. Oftentimes his outbursts were to conceal what he really felt.

He went downstairs, sat on the sofa, and began to finger the wedding band destined for Louisa's finger. What was he doing? He needed to get to the church! But he stayed right there, while both the house phone and his mobile rang endlessly.

No, he thought, the chasm was far too deep and too wide. Marriage? Him? God! It will be a disaster!

Perhaps, he realized, it would be better if he just stayed in place. Didn't move. Best for Louisa if he took the blame. He nodded. Right. They'll understand. The village already had opinions and they voiced them often. Well, he mused, he'd just confirm them once and for all. Right? Right.

He rubbed the gold ring and sighed as light glinted off the shiny surface. Sometimes having is not quite as good as wanting. Yes, he wanted Louisa, his days were brighter when he saw her or heard her voice or held her in his arms at night. But… and there's always a but… he'd not make her happy, and for that matter, she'd irritate him to no end. She liked people, seeing them, going out, talking walks – living a full life in the village. He did not like any of those things.

"Good," he said aloud. "Decided," he muttered.

But just then the kitchen door opened, and Louisa walked in, adorned in her wedding dress and carrying an envelope in her hand.

"Louisa?" he asked, quite surprised.

"Martin? What are you doing here?" she asked.