Chapter 2: Jumble Sale

By the time Martin and Louisa finished washing up from breakfast and getting James and Mary ready for the day, people were already gathering on the stone terrace waiting for the doors to open. Morwenna flung open the door to the warm summer day and they surged in to pore over the jumble sale in the reception room.

Martin walked through the crowd, carrying a heavy box to his office and PC Joe Penhale tagged along.

"Are any of your stethoscopes for sale, Doc?"

"No, of course not."

"Are you taking them with you?"

"Obviously." Martin thought Penhale was as obtuse as ever but he kept his patience.

"I thought it was more of an office job."

"Oh no, no, I still have clinical duties."

A tall, thin, nervous-looking man came up and introduced himself. "Henry Rice. We talked on the phone before."

"He's not selling his stethoscopes, if that's what you're wondering," Penhale chimed in.

"I wasn't," Rice said. "No, I'm here to look at some clocks for my antique shop. I'm something of a horologist," he added, with a touch of pride.

Mingling with the crowd, Louisa could tell Martin wasn't fond of the idea of selling off his beloved clocks, but she reminded him the purpose was of the sale was not just to lighten the load for the movers but to raise money for the Portwenn Lifeboat Station. "Remember, it's all for a good cause. I know it's not easy parting with your collection but think of it as a fresh start."

"Yes," Martin reluctantly agreed. He ushered Rice into his office, which was largely packed up in boxes already. He set up the last of the clocks, most of which were already arrayed on a table, along with an antique barometer he had also restored. He was proud to display them but a bit uncomfortable with this stranger looking them over with a critical eye.

"Very nice," Rice said. "Yes, they're wonderfully maintained. I'd be happy to take them all off your hands."

"Yes." Martin hesitated, eyeing some particular favourites. "Maybe I'll just keep that one." He paused. "And that one."

In the reception, a man came in through the crowd. He was wearing a tweed jacket and denim shirt, with a flat cap on his greying hair. Morwenna thought he looked like a gentleman farmer, but he was obviously not a local. "Is there a doctor here? I thought this is a doctor's surgery," he said.

"Yeah it was, not any more. Permanently closed. You'll have to go to Wadebridge," she replied.

"I don't even know where that is," he said, favouring his shoulder. "Isn't there somebody who could help me here? I'm in a lot of pain."

Morwenna took pity on him. "Come on then."

In the office Martin was enjoying discussing his clocks with the antiques dealer but finding himself reluctant to part with a few more of them, when Morwenna came in.

"Sorry Doc, got a bloke here says he's in pain."

"Arthur Collins," the man introduced himself and indicated his shoulder. "I think it could be broken, it's killing me!"

"You'll have to go to Wadebridge."

"Is that far?"

Martin was mildly exasperated but unable to turn away one last patient. "No, all right, I'll see you here."

"What about the clocks?" Rice said.

At this point, Martin was determined to hang onto almost all the clocks. "Yes, you can take that one, and the barometer, for 300."

"That's not what we agreed," Rice said, clearly displeased. "You said they were all for sale.

Martin didn't care. "Well, it's what we've agreed now. That one, and the barometer, for 300. You can give the money to Morwenna on your way out. Excuse me, I have a patient."

Impatiently, he gestured the way out, while the exasperated antiques dealer took the one inferior timepiece he was allowed, and the barometer, and left.

To be continued…