Assessment

Louisa stomped into the house, all in a huff, slamming the kitchen door behind her.

Martin, who was prepping their dinner, noticed her mood right away because she dropepd her hobo bag onto the sofa followed by her laptop and handbag then finishing this strange non-striptease with her coat which she flung to the floor.

"Oooohhhh," she moaned, a further sign of distress.

Martin opened his mouth, about to suggest that whatever it was it may not be good for her to react in such a way as to elevate her blood pressure, especially being 16 weeks pregnant. "Bad day?"

She groaned, shaking her head. "I run a good school, Martin, I do. I deal with kid issues, and their parents, every day, plus I work very hard to manage my staff – well all of them - with care and kindness." She accented each verbal point with a karate chop wave of one hand. "And you know all the time I have to spend wading through tons of paperwork!"

Martin nodded for the last weeks she had been spending more time writing reports than he had ever seen her do so before.

Louisa went on, saying, "And then guess what?"

Martin shrugged.

"Well, believe it or not, and despite the school having very high marks in the district?" Here Louisa had to pause to wipe a teary eye.

Martin put down the sharp knife he held poised over the chicken he was about to debone. He adjusted the knife's position next to the nylon cutting board, then washed his hands thoroughly and dried them. After these steps he went to Louisa who stared at the mess she had made with her dropped school baggage. "You want to talk about it?"

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. "Sorry, Martin, I've been holding this in all afternoon." She smiled at him nervously. "Sorry. Sorry."

He laid the back of his hand on her cheek. "It's fine."

Louisa put her arms around him feeling some comfort from pressing herself against him, especially the pressure against her belly, which lately she had an avid desire to hold, caress and stare down at it.

Martin let her nestle against him, thinking though, that the oven soon would be up to temperature and the chicken still had to be deboned. He cleared his throat and Louisa slowly loosened her hold on him.

"Sorry, Martin, I just…" she said.

"I understand." He didn't want to regale her with his frustrations of the day; idiotic patients, an argument with Mrs. Tishell when he picked up supplies during lunchtime and Pauline, such an irritating receptionist, who today decided it was perfectly acceptable to strip old polish from her fingernails while at her desk.

"How was your day?" Louisa asked.

"The usual."

"That bad?"

Martin tipped his head to one side. "I… got through it."

"Not like the old days when you could just do your surgery." She grinned.

"Well, there were still patent consultations and notes to write, conferring with colleagues, dealing with hospital claptrap and…" he stopped.

Louisa took his hand. "But you miss it. Doing surgery."

He shrugged and turned away. "Best get to preparing our dinner."

"What are you cooking?"

"Baked boneless chicken breasts, couscous, a green salad, pears."

She followed him into the kitchen. "You could save this for tomorrow. Eat out?"

Martin looked at his watch. "Where would we go?" He was not averse to the idea, but he never wanted to eat too late in the evening.

Louisa bit her lip. "Molly, one of the new teachers, told me she went to a place in Polzeath."

"That's 20 minutes away in the car."

Louisa took his hand. "Come on. We need a night out."

Sighing inside, Martin wrapped the chicken in clingfilm, and returned it to the fridge. "Fine."

"The way you said 'fine' it doesn't sound fine."

"No, no, Louisa it's…" He had thought to spend time on a clock that evening. "It's good." He washed the cutting board and knife then dried them and put them away. "Let's go."

Louisa had picked up her things in the front room, tidying the area, for Martin hated a mess. "Let me use the loo," she answered as she went upstairs.

Martin settled himself on the sofa with the new BMJ to wait.

0=0

Martin slowly turned the car onto Atlantic Terrace, scanning for the restaurant. Louisa pointed to the lit sign, so he parked on the right, the car facing the sea for there were no buildings on the right side of the street.. He saw that the street overlooked Polzeath Beach, now darkened well after sunset.

Louisa got out, smiling as she took in big lungfuls of sea air. "We used to come here when I was a girl."

"This restaurant?"

"No, no. Down there, on the beach. Pack a lunch and a blanket."

Martin took her arm as they crossed to the building because the pavement was cracked and heaved in spots. "Careful there," he indicated pathed places. He peered over his shoulder at the beach. Beaches. Dirty smelly places, he believed.

"Okay," Louisa answered, slightly bothered by Martin's caution. She wasn't made of glass, nor was she ill, even if she was with child. Such a quaint term. 'With child.' Not quite yet, still a foetus for months and months yet.

The sign outside the building displayed the words, 'Surf Rider.'

Louisa held his hand as they climbed the stairs to the front door. "This was a sandwich shop when I was a girl."

"Oh, so you've eaten here?" Martin asked.

She shook her head no.

The host, a young woman, seated them and handed them a slim menu. "Sorry," she apologized, "Off season, so we have only a few items. May I offer you drinks before you order?"

"Just water," Louisa told her.

"Same," Martin grunted as he scanned the menu. Sole, turbot, salmon, chicken and beef curry. He mentally chose the sole.

Louisa shrugged off her coat and draped it over the back of her chair. "This is nice," she said as she peered around. The front windows looked out onto the darkened beach and sky, giving what must be an impressive view in daylight. The interior was bleached floorboards and off-white walls, with a tin sheet ceiling and antique ceiling fans. Potted palms were in various corners and the chairs and table were repurposed giving an eclectic vibe to the room. There were just a few other dinners; the place was only one-third filled. She smiled at Martin as he carefully adjusted his utensils to make them all parallel to one another and perpendicular to the table edge. It was a harmless activity; one he had explained to her as a holdover from his surgery days; keeping all his tools ready and in their proper places. She mentally cleared her head, or tried to, but the upcoming school assessment was niggling at her.

Martin asked her just then, "This school assessment – it concerns you."

She ducked her head. "I know it'll be fine…"

"But."

"Yeah," she sighed. "If the person the send is very inquisitive they check everything from loo paper and classroom chalk up to the school records – not just what I have submitted but all the past things."

"And those other reports and so forth, out of your control."

"Yeah." She smiled at hm. "Speaking of control, I was thinking that I've got a scan coming up in a few weeks, and from what I read, they'll look at the baby's sex."

"Normal test, unless…"

"Unless we tell them no; don't tell us." She took his hand and rubbed it. "What do you think about that?"

"Foetal anatomical scans are to look for abnormalities…" Martin saw her wince. "But it's up to the parent whether they want to know, about the sex I mean."

She dropped his hand and sat back and rested a hand on her belly. "I think that was a kick, a real one."

Martin doubted it was an actual kick. "But you felt it."

Louisa was looking at the windows and the dark sea. "Maybe a flutter." She looked down. "Yes, stronger. Swimming around down there. Funny to think that the fluid around the baby is like the ocean."

Martin cleared his throat. "Ammonitic fluid salinity is about 2 percent. The oceans are 3 to 5 percent. But similar."

"Ah, so just an old wives' tale."

Martin said, "Here comes the waitress."

The waitress brought their water and also delivered a bowl of breadsticks, ready to take their orders. Martin of course ordered the sole.

Louisa pursed her lips. "I'd love the salmon…"

"Best not," blurted out Martin.

"Oh right." Martin had given her a lecture on fish that were high in the food chain and might have a concentration of heavy metals. So Louisa said, "Turbot then."

"Potatoes and legumes are the sides," the waitress told them. "And we have a lovely green salad, fresh lettuce from Spain. It's quite good."

Both added a salad to their orders.

After the girl left, Martin looked at his wife. "Louisa, I… I know that I too often am butting in on your diet…"

She held up her hand, so he stopped. "You're just watching out for me."

He held up his hands. "I am not controlling you."

Louisa shook her head with a sly grin on her face. "But you try to do so – and I resist." Then she glared at him. "I am an adult, you know."

He merely ducked his head, for what she said was true. He did assume that he knew best. "I am completely aware…"

She held up a hand and he stopped speaking. "Just move on."

"Louisa, I am sorry. You are a smart woman and I respect that."

"But?" she raised an eyebrow.

"No buts. Here, have a breadstick," he added to move past his gaffe. "You are… the most intelligent woman that I know."

"Most intelligent?" She blushed.

"Yes."

"And you're not just saying that because I am your wife and am carrying your child?" she asked playfully while rubbing her leg against his under the table.

That made him squirm, so he shifted his leg.

Louisa took his hand. "Martin, my mum used to try and control my dad; as if that could ever happen. They were both independent people and…" Suddenly she had to stop as painful memories flooded back.

Martin saw her wince and then dab at her eyes with her table linen. "How's the breadstick?" he asked trying to cheer her up.

"Uhm, tastes like a breadstick." She set it down on her bread plate. "My dad didn't really start to act… I mean… after mum left…"

"When you were eleven."

"You remember. Yes, I was young. And after that dad changed, I mean, he worked a lot harder at being a real parent. Not that he didn't have his faults."

Like being a criminal, Martin recalled. "He became a better parent."

Louisa nodded, now twisting her napkin with both hands. "I… think we ought to agree… that no matter what… that we'll try to do the best for our child."

"Of course we shall."

"Boy or girl."

He nodded.

Then she sighed at him. "Well, what if you decided to head up to London, and I didn't want to?"

"Don't be ridicu… why would I do that?"

She looked around the room. "Here. This place, I mean Cornwall. It's very small; not like London. Bright lights, big city."

"Louisa but I am here, and if I recall properly you were the one who was going to leave."

She leaned back. "I remember." She bit her lip. "I thought I was ready to, staying in the village, and not being with you, I… we did break up didn't we?"

Martin sighed sadly. "Then I asked you to marry."

"And I said yes, and then I got cold "

"Me too. I did as well."

She smiled at her husband. "Through thick and thin – for better and for worse." She paused and touched her belly. "And this is here, was here all along, I mean after we…" she stopped. "Did you actually love me from the first? On the plane coming down here?"

Martin nodded, and there was that feeling of interest and desire when she boarded the plane. "I did tell you that."

"Yes, you did." She chewed on her breadstick for another bite. "So."

He raised his eyebrows.

She smiled. "You did look interesting, on the plane. Then you kept staring at me. I thought you were flirting with me," she chuckled.

"I was examining your eye."

"Glaucoma." She sighed. "So, you didn't want to get into my knickers."

"Louisa!" He hissed but then he saw she was grinning ear to ear.

She leaned towards him. "And you finally did; didn't you? Took you long enough."

Martin thought back. There was her wariness of him at first – if not hatred – after the community board accepted him over her negative views. And then there was Danny Steel. And now… "I suppose I took my time."

She laughed. "Not like things ever run smoothly for us do they?" She rubbed his hand. "You know the first time I really loved you, really, was in the ambulance - Peter Cronk. Saw that there was an actual human being under all that armor you put on. The blood thing, all the teasing, how you ended up in the village. That was hard. But you were in the right place at the right time to save Peter, weren't you?"

"I… I should have sent him to hospital and insisted a proper examination after his fall on the playground… but I didn't."

She smiled. "All the same, you saved his life." She thought back to telling off that too-smart doctor, Adrian Pitts. Martin didn't know about that for she's never told him. Might be put off by being defended by a woman that he really didn't know all that well. But if Martin had not made that crack about bad breath coming home in the taxi. Oh well.

"Just doing my job," Martin repeated as he always did, looking away from her with embarrassment.

Louisa cocked her head to one side while a fluttery feeling went on in her belly. "Then that was a good thing." Next she leaned towards him. "So my ultrasound scan. Do you want to know our child's sex then? Or wait until it's born?"

Martin opened his mouth and then closed it. "Hard to know."