Chapter 8: The Farewell Party

Still concerned about Sally Tishell, Ruth went to her residence behind the chemist's shop. "Hello Sally. I just dropped by to see if you wanted to come to the party with me."

Sally was now in a dress, looking into a mirror and nervously brushing makeup on her face. "Ah no, no. I, um, I've arranged to say goodbye to Martin up at the surgery."

Ruth thought she might have been trying a bit too hard to seem casual about it all. "Oh that's good. Will you come to the party afterwards?"

"Yes, I think I will. The village needs me to be strong." Sally maintained her casual tone, but was snapping her elastic wrist band as she recited the phrase she had picked up from Ruth.

"That's the spirit!" Ruth tried to sound encouraging, but she didn't quite believe Sally was really handling the situation this well.

At the Platt, the party was just getting starting. People were milling about beneath a big banner reading "Goodbye and Good Luck." Penhale was eager to show Ruth a clock he had gotten Martin as a farewell gift. The mechanical face was alive with little painted figures whirling around in a dance, a water wheel turning, and a man tapping a beer barrel, all as cheerful waltz played.

"What do you think?" he asked, proudly.

"Well…" Ruth didn't know what to say.

"It's fantastic, isn't it. The Doc's gonna love it!" The miniature dance finished and a tiny bird popped out to strike the hour: coo koo, coo koo, coo koo.

For a man who regarded Martin as his close friend, Joseph Penhale certainly didn't know his tastes at all, Ruth thought, but as usual she took the diplomatic route. "You're going to miss him, aren't you."

"I try not to think about it," Penhale said. "That's the best way to deal with uncomfortable emotions, isn't it - push them down to that pit in your stomach and hope they go away."

Ruth had to try even harder to remain diplomatic. "I don't know that that's the best way."

"Well, you've learned something new," Penhale chuckled, pleased to have imparted some wisdom to the eminent psychiatrist.

Elsewhere, Bert suggested to Caitlin that it was time to crack open the "Ellingham Single Malt."

"I thought you were saving it as a gift for the Doc and Louisa," she replied, adding reprovingly "unless you were planning on charging 'em for it."

"No, I thought it might be nice for them to have it as a memento of the place," Bert insisted.

Caitlin was warming up to him. "You can be nice Bert, when you want to be. I was thinking…"

"Yes?!" Bert was eagerly hoping she was thinking something nice.

"If you want to increase that napkin order to 3,000, you'd be making a saving in the long run."

"Oh yeah right. Yeah, good idea." Not what he was hoping for at all.

"Or you could just say whatever it is you really wanted to say to me."

She doesn't miss a trick, Bert thought. He hesitated, before coming out with what he was really thinking. "I made a mistake. I miss you. I was wrong."

"'I was wrong.' Those three magic words I thought I'd never hear from you." She smiled. "I miss you too Bert… but you're still buying those napkins," she teased.


Mrs. Tishell avoided the crowd and walked in her dress and heels up the hill to the surgery, where the movers were loading boxes into the van.

"Is Dr. Ellingham here?" she inquired, only to be informed he was gone.

"He said he'd be back soon," one man said.

"I'll wait for him inside then, thank you." In the house, she found it shocking to see how empty the rooms were. She ran from reception to office, where even the green walls were now bare. The reality of it all hit her anew. "Everything's gone!"

A pair of movers came into the office to pick up some final boxes. "Oh yeah, that's the point of moving," one said. "Everything moves with ya!"

Sally snapped her elastic wrist band so hard it began to hurt.


Down the hill at the Platt, Al served Ruth a coffee from his food van as Janice brought back the ice cream cone she had bought for James, saying "he doesn't want it." Morwenna happily helped herself to the untouched treat.

"He's worried about Chicken," Janice told Ruth, as the boy sat on a picnic table looking despondent. "Can you keep an eye on him for a bit?" Ruth reassured her that she would.

"When is the Doc arriving?" Al asked.

"I don't know," Ruth said. "He's not a great fan of parties, but he's usually punctual. I've been calling him but he's not answering."

To be continued…