Trials
"How do I look?" Louisa asked Martin when she got to the bottom of the stairs. She had gotten up early for a shower and breakfast, then had dressed and applied makeup carefully. It didn't hurt to make a good impression.
Martin was in the waiting room, filing the latest PCT reports, so he turned from the filing cabinet. The first thing he noticed was Louisa's face, which looked slightly puffy, but given the pregnancy that made sense, as greater fluid volume circulated in blood and lymph. Then he noticed her new dress, which was green, which she wore with a cream or white sweater thing on her arms and shoulders. Her belly protruded and her bustline now seemed to be larger. "You look good."
"Thanks," she bit her lip. "The assessor is coming in today so I wanted to look good, if that's all you can say."
"Ahm, no, no. You look…" Pregnant he thought, Louisa, you look, pregnant, desirable and lovely. "Ahm, nice."
"Well, nice is step up from good so I'll accept that." She went to him and gave him a kiss. "You have a nice day."
"Yes," he said, but he'd just looked at the patients on the schedule and he knew it would be a day of wingers, whiners and moaners.
She got into her coat, the long one, got her bags sorted and went to the door. "I hope to be home on time, but it might be I'll get stuck after school."
"Yes," Martin had already turned away, his thoughts on the upcoming day as he sighed inside.
At school, Louisa checked in with Sally Chadwick and Mr. Coley, the latter seeming to be more forgetful than usual lately. The school looked very nice and the extra hours that Mr. Coley had put in made the school all gleaming, even though the weather was very cool and scudding clouds meant a blow was coming.
"All set?" Sally asked her. "I've got the staff room, the copy room and in here all squared away."
"Thank you, Sally. You are the best secretary that I've ever worked with."
Sally blushed. "Thanks," she ducked her head, slightly embarrassed.
"So when they get here, just ring me and I'll come out to meet them."
"Got a name?"
"No. They just said they'd get here this morning." Louisa sighed, wishing she could have found out their name to look them up, or even make a discreet call or two. "Right," she said, bracing herself for what might come.
Pauline arrived at surgery sniffling and coughing, so Martin sent her home. "Next time, if you are sick, just call me first? Right?" he told her.
"But you need me to be here…" she stopped to cough into a crumpled tissue, as Martin backed away.
"No! Put on your coat, don't touch anything, and get out!" He nearly shuddered at the thought of who knew what pathogens she'd brought and spread about. He actually stopped inhaling until she had left, then he got spray disinfectant and sprayed it liberally about the room. Then he took surface cleaner and with it wiped down the desk, chair, computer keyboard and mouse, plus the coat rack, finally carefully cleaning the front door, doorknob and door jam.
He had just finished the door when Mr. Tishell showed up, hobbling on his right foot. Martin nearly screamed when he saw him. Clive's partial deafness, although now fitted with hearing aids, was still an impediment to communication plus the man spoke in a loud, penetrating, and irritating way that set Martin's teeth on edge.
"Doc!" Clive called out. "I come a bit early! This toe is bothering me a lot!"
"Yes," snapped Martin. "Go through."
In surgery, Clive stripped off a heavy shoe, then pulled off a sock displaying a reddened and sore-looking toe.
"I think there's summatt amiss at that big toenail, Doc!" Clive proclaimed. "Feels hot to the touch as well!"
Martin inclined his neck to peer at it. Lovely. He could see a yellow patch at the lateral edge of the nail plate. "You injured it?"
"Too right! Stubbed on a stone step, few days back. I ought to know how to walk, right? Out on the rig we all wear steel-toed boots. Didn't think I'd need 'em here in the village!" he guffawed.
Martin moved Clive to the exam table. "Get up here, lie down and put your foot on this cushion." Then he prepared his tools. A syringe for local anesthesia, a scalpel, gauze and a saline irrigator bottle. He put on his gloves, swabbed the skin of the toe with topical antiseptic and then injected the local.
Clive peered down at his foot. "Gonna cut me, Doc?" he said as Martin picked up the scalpel. "Like old days, eh?"
Martin tried to ignore the crack, but his top skills as a surgeon would now be applied to decompress an infected nail bed - a paronychia - by jabbing a knife under a toenail. "Hold still," he told Clive as he applied the scalpel, then pushed the blade until pus came gushing out.
In her office, Louisa found herself pacing back and forth, until at last she forced herself to sit in her office chair, with hands clasped together, waiting for her visitor. She tried to calm herself, to push from her mind all the worries of this school review and also whether she and Martin should ask to find the sex of their child via ultrasound. It was all a lot to think about and just as she felt a definite kick down in her belly, her desk phone rang. She grabbed the handset, trying to settle her head before she spoke, but it was no use. "Yes?" she said, her voice trembling.
"Louisa, Sally. Your visitor is here."
"Right, good." She stood up to face the inevitable, while the baby kicked or waved an arm inside her. Down the short corridor, she saw a bald man standing there, a ring dark hair over his ears and with a moustache. He had on a tan jacket and dark pants, with a white shirt and a grey tie. Presentable, but she noticed that one black shoe was polished while the other was scuffed.
"Hello!" the man exclaimed, his face lighting up. "You must be Miss Glasson!" He stuck out his hand for a handshake.
She took his hand, which felt clammy and cold. "Yes, but it's Mrs. Ellingham." She held up a hand to show him her wedding ring. "Got married." She dropped his hand and had to suppress an urge to wipe it on the back of her dress.
"Oh, splendid, that is so good, just wonderful!" he gushed. "And a baby as well! Off to the family way! Marvelous!"
"And you are?" she asked, shifting the topic away from her pregnancy and marital state.
"Oh, yes! Sorry! David Strain." He stopped. "And when is the… the… your baby due?"
"Summer."
"Oh splendid. I haven't any children of my own, just students, you see. Plus some nieces. I taught for years and years and the little tykes… uhm, they… oh, well, that doesn't matter."
"Right," Louisa answered. "This is Sally Chadwick, who is our school secretary and she will be glad to help you with anything you need during your visit."
Suddenly, Strain's face changed from happy and smiling into nearly a scowl. "Oh yes, that," he almost growled. "Now about this visit or evaluation. Where to begin? To get a start. Hm?" He cocked his head, put his hands behind him and began to rock back and forth in an agitated way.
After a very long and silent pause, which must have last a full minute,Louisa prompted him, asking, "The building? Records? Attendance? Classrooms? Canteen? Budget?"
He shook his head. "No, no… how about…" he snapped his fingers. "Boiler!"
"Mr. Strain, you want to see the school boiler?" Puzzled, Louisa caught a startled look from Sally.
Strain froze, now staring at Louisa, his eyes wide. "No, not the boiler, per se, the… uhm… cleaning supplies?" He snapped his fingers once more. "Yes," he said, now smiling. "Cleaning supplies."
Louisa replied, "Okay. Right. Mr. Coley is our custodian, and he does a marvelous job. Let's go find him and he could show you our cleaning supply cupboard."
Strain nodded, without speaking, holding his hands clasped behind him once more.
"It's just down the corridor; if you would follow me." Louisa turned to go, then stopped when she realized that Mr. Strain was not following. "Mr. Strain, please come with me?"
With a start Strain took a step. "Yes, yes, Carry on. I'm with you. Summer, you say?"
"Summer?"
He waved a hand in the general direction of her belly. "Your baby."
"Yes. School holiday."
He nodded. "Good timing."
Or just awful and terrible timing, Louisa thought. "Yes, and now here is Mr. Coley, our cleaner."
Mr. Coley was staring at the gymnasium floor as they approached. "Mrs. Ellingham, I just finished polishing; a new coat of wax, so don't you go slipping," he warned.
"I'll be careful. Now, Mr. Coley this is Mr. Strain and he's here to look over our school. Give us a grade; that sort of thing."
Mr. Coley shook Strain's hand. "But what you want with me?" he asked.
"Cleaning cupboard, my good man," Strain told him clapping him on the shoulder. "I think that Mrs. Ellingham was concerned when I asked to see your cleaning supply storage space. You see, many cleaner chemicals are caustic and poisonous, and I must inspect your facility to ensure that those items are properly labeled and stored safely," he smiled at Louisa. "You see?"
Louisa let out a careful breath, "Oh, right. Yes that is a good idea." As Mr. Coley escorted Strain to his supply room, she braced herself. This was going to be a very long day.
In the afternoon, Martin finally got the last patient out the door and he turned his thoughts to dinner. If Louia was to be delayed after school, then something simple should be prepared. Baked chicken and potatoes plus sprouts. Fruit. With that plan in his head he went to the kitchen and began to prepare.
Shortly after five, Louisa arrived, and she looked exhausted, her hair askew, her arms drooping. "Bad day?"
Louisa shook her head. "Tiring. The evaluator is a man named Strain and I must say he sure pulled me in different directions today. The man is alternately smiling and friendly and then in a flash goes stern and cold."
It reminded Martin of some surgeons he had worked with. "Ah."
"Yes, ah." She sighed. "I'll go up and lie down for a half hour if I could."
Martin checked his watch. "I haven't heated the cooker yet, so it will take some time to bake the chicken. Take an hour." It would be past his carbohydrate curfew, but he'd manage.
Louisa dumped her bags onto the kitchen table. "Great."
Martin listened carefully as Louisa made her way upstairs and as he listened to her slow progress, he winced. "Bureaucracy," he muttered.
When dinner was ready he went up to wake her. She blearily shook her head as he turned the light on in the bedroom. "Supper."
"Sure," she said, as she levered herself to a sitting position. "Oh and Martin, I could really feel the baby kicking today." She smiled. "It's really alive down there." Louisa stood up and held out her arms. "Give us a hug."
Martin's mouth had gone dry. "Good. I mean…" he nodded. "Very good," he said into her fragrant hair. Her belly was pressed hard against his and he felt fear; fear of fatherhood.
They ate supper and after Louisa settled down on the sofa. After Martin had finished cleaning the kitchen he joined her with his BMJ. She was reading some celebrity magazine; to each their own he thought. A quiet hour passed, broken only by the flipping sound of pages. Louisa started to yawn so Martin suggested that she go to bed.
"Good idea that I get some rest. Mr. Strain told me tomorrow he wants to look at patient records, summaries, all that." Louisa wrinkled her nose. "Won't be fun."
"Sometimes work conditions can be less than acceptable," he added.
She patted his leg. "Less than optimum, as a doctor friend of mine once told me." She yawned. "I am for bed."
"I'll check things down here," he told her.
Louisa had gone past the front door when someone outside knocked on it. She looked at her watch for it was now half-eight and full dark; sunset long ago. Louisa shook her head.
"What now?" she muttered. Opening the door she saw an old woman holding the handle of a small rollie case. She had dyed red hair and was dressed in a shabby heavy coat and long scarf, staring at her.
"Lou-lou! How's my little girl?" the woman asked excitedly.
"Mum! What are you doin' here?" Louisa said in dismay.
