Reception
Joan took Louisa's hands as she beamed at her at the head of the receiving line. "Oh, my girl, I am so very happy for the two of you!" she gushed.
Louisa was smiling back, and she knew for the next twenty minutes or more she'd be smiling until her face hurt; smilng at every person that greeted her.
"Oh, Joan," Louisa hugged her. "I suppose we really are relatives now!"
"And, Martin, that was a lovely ceremony!" She squeezed her nephew tightly then she pecked him on the cheek. "I had my doubts that you'd arrive, especially when we were sitting in the pews. What delayed you?"
"Uhm…" Martin stammered, "Louisa had trouble with her hair."
"And Martin with his suit," chuckled Louisa.
Joan looked from one to the other. "Your hair looks lovely and Marty your suit is fine. Glad you got it all sorted. Right. All the same you two got up to the altar and did the deed. Love to the both of you." She stepped back. "I could never have imagined… that you… both, would… after all this time…"
"We have," Martin stated. "And we did."
Louisa took his hand. "And we are."
As Joan moved away, Martin mumbled to Louisa in a low voice, "Do we have to do this with all the guests? We didn't invite the whole village, did we?"
"It's the way it's done here, people just show up," Louisa answered, then turned to greet Roger and Maureen.
Martin inhaled air through his nose with irritation. What did Porter say? Make your mate happy: that was it. So, he kept shaking hands, speaking to guests, but quickly his words degenerated to a brief, "Hello" or "Thank you for coming."
When Bert stood before him and Louisa, the man said to them, "Doc? Louisa? I am so very happy for the two of you! The village didn't think we'd ever see this day!" He winked at Martin. "I trust you'll take care of our Louisa." To Louisa he said, "I know you two had your ups and downs but oh my, when you come up the aisle, it took my breath away." He hugged them both. "Don't you worry about the reception at all. Me and Al set up a marquee just outside. My mate lent me the canopy for free."
Bert hugged them both again together, squeezing them together like jam in a sandwich. "My lovers."
Louisa squeaked and Martin felt his ribs actually creak under the man's grip.
As Bert left them, Martin muttered, "It figures that Bert would work a deal."
Louisa nudged him in return. "Be nice."
The reception guest parade continued, one after the other, some of whom Martin had never laid eyes on and Louisa barely knew. Finally only Mrs. Tishell and the vicar were the last.
Louisa eyed Sally warily, wondering what she would say.
Mrs. Tishell, dabbed at her streaming eyes, "Doctor Ellingham… and Louisa," she sniffled. "Beautiful, just beautiful."
"Thank you for playing the organ," Louisa told her, and she was earnest in her praise, but she was afraid that Sally might make a scene.
Sally blew her nose. "Don't mind me; it's my hay fever, and I always cry at weddings."
Martin cleared his throat. "I can prescribe an antihistamine and a decongestant; on…"
Louisa nudged him.
"Monday. See me Monday," Martin finished.
Sally stared at him, and then, bowing her head to Louisa, the village chemist shuffled off.
Martin watched her go, then turned to face Porter who had a grim look on his face. The two men faced one another with an awkward silence.
Louisa stepped into the gap, extending her hand. "Oh, Mr. Porter," she gushed, "thank you for performing…"
Porter replied. "Dear lady, I'm neither an acrobat nor lounge singer. Ceremony, yes, but it is an all-prescribed performance, fortunately."
The man's voice had an irritating and mocking tone which put Martin off, yet the man had shown up, after Martin treated his pig. "Your words were…" Martin told him.
"Inspiring!" Louisa blurted out after seeking a noncommittal word.
Porter shook his head and stepped closer to them. "Mark my words well, you two," he told them softly but then he grimaced at them. "My bounty is as boundless as the sea. My love as deep: the more I give to thee. The more I have, for both are infinite. "
"What?" both bride and groom asked.
Porter smiled as he cocked his head. "Shakespeare had a way with words didn't he? Romeo and Juliet – Act 2, Scene 1."
Martin just wanted this odd fellow to leave them alone. "Hm. Yes. Thank you for stepping in."
"Quite a disaster when our vicar fell and broke his hip," Louisa said. "We didn't know what to do, or who to call."
"An ill wind… an omen?" chuckled Porter grimly, but then he shrugged. "But what do I know? I am just a man. By the way, Martin, the pig is doing fine."
Louisa's eyebrow went up. "The pig?"
Porter opened his mouth to draw breath, but Martin cleared his throat, reached into his pocket for the cash which Roger told him to have available, extracted two folded 50-pound notes and pressed them in Porter's hand.
Porter inspected the money. "Ah, yes. The consideration in cash of your connubial gratitude. Slightly more than 40 pieces of silver, but so be it." He ducked his head. "I thank you for the extra cash for services rendered, such as they were." Porter stood straighter and sighed. "Be happy… if you can," he said gravely, then sauntered away.
Louisa watched while Porter retreated, recalling some of the stories she had heard about him. "He is a little…" she muttered.
"Strange," Martin whispered back.
"Yeah. Odd," she agreed. "Pig?" she asked with raised eyebrow.
Martin shook his head. "Uhm, later." Or never, he vowed to himself.
Suddenly Roger Fenn was standing in front of them. "Louisa and Martin," he bowed and with a sweep of his hand indicated the open church door and a white marquee beyond. "If Dr. and Mrs. Ellingham would allow me to escort them to yon reception tent, the party will continue, however, I fear the guests have already made a huge impact upon the available cider supply."
Just as I thought, Martin said to himself. Free food and cider. He started to reply but thought better of it when Louisa made a face at him.
Louisa hugged Roger, then waited a moment until he turned to head for the door. She linked her arm through Martin's, took his hand, and kissed him on the cheek.
"What?" Martin said.
She held his hand tightly and told him, "I would not wish any companion in the world but you:
Nor can imagination form a shape, besides yourself to like of."
"What is that from?" he asked.
"The Tempest. Porter's not the only one who read Shakespeare," she chuckled.
"Oh, right," Martin told her. "Come on then."
As Roger had said the marquee was full; people, tables and chairs, food, all overlaid by blaring music blasting from a boombox on a tall stand at the back.
"Oh, Gawd," hissed Martin, as he tried to back away.
"Oh gosh," Louisa said, and then taking a deep breath, she pulled him inside after her.
=0=0=0=
Martin managed to not sneer at the food laid on the smorgasbord, after Al told him that they'd kept it all in cold boxes, until just minutes ago. "Good," he replied.
"Can't have the whole village getting food poisoning, now can we?" Al laughed.
Martin shook his head, about to mention when Bert had been dosing the village with his spring water contaminated with cryptosporidium from his lambing sheep, but had to force himself not to speak. He shuddered at the memory.
Suddenly he and Louisa were bustled towards the wedding cake, forced to collaborate on cutting a few slices and then make their spouse mate eat some. Martin managed to maneuver a smallish piece into his wife's mouth without any dribbling off the fork onto her dress. Louisa on the other hand tried to cram a huge hunk of cake into his mouth, but most of it went across his lips and down his front.
"Sorry, Martin," she whispered to him after a quick kiss, while the crowd laughed and cheered. She dabbed at the mess on his coat and tie with a towel. "Good thing Pauline snapped some photos before I messed you up. I am sorry."
Martin took the cloth from her hand and managed to clear nearly all the stuff off himself, just as Chippy Miller stumbled up to him.
Chippy smiled from ear to ear, and nodded towards the bride who was now surrounded by tittering women, chattering away about flowers, the dress, and such, for Martin had caught a few words here and there.
The fisherman drew himself up straight and stuck out his hand for a shake. "Congratulations, Doc."
"Yes," Martin took his hand briefly.
"A real beauty there. Cornwall's finest. A real sweetheart. I've known Louisa her whole life." He winked at Martin. "Good for you."
Louisa's figure in her brilliant white dress shown like a beacon in the middle of the village woman, both old and young. The older women were dressed in faded finery, while the younger ones were showing plenty of skin; upper chests and necks, legs and arms. Martin was male enough to notice the desiring look all the men in the tent cast in the bride's direction.
"Yes," Martin echoed to Chippy. He felt a little at sea, in the middle of this bustling throng. At least he'd got Al to reduce the volume of the music.
"You gonna dance?" Chippy asked.
"What?"
"Dance with your missus – the newest bride in Portwenn?" Chippy urged. "I'm not much for it 'cuz my knee's been bothering me a lot. Them pills you got me last week were bollix. Didn't help at all."
Martin sighed. "Did you reduce your motion of it? Rest it? Ice it?"
"No, Doc. I gotta work on the boat, you see…"
Martin closed his eyes. "Monday, Mr. Miller. Not today. Come see me on Monday," he frowned at the pint cider glass the man was holding. "If you are not still too hungover on Monday to remember."
"Thanks a bunch, Doc." Chippy clapped Martin on the back and lurched away in the general direction of Al.
Martin saw the two have a brief conversation and then Al turned to the music machine, which changed from twanging guitars and pounding drums to light and softer music; in which one could actually understand words. Now the tune was sweeter and softer, more melodic, and even he could appreciate that they sang of love and lovers.
Joe Penhale pulled some papers from his pocket, stood up and began to give a speech by calling for attention, which reduced the chattering not one bit. "Settle down!" Joe urged. "Come on now!"
"No, Joe, stop!" protested Al.
Bert took the PC's arm and pulled him into a seat. "Later Joe."
The new village PC protested. "But I got some great jokes – wedding jokes, with a medical twist!"
Martin made his way across the room to Louisa. "Have you eaten?" he asked.
"Just bits and pieces. The cake was good." She grinned at him. "Not really that hungry for food…" she whispered.
Martin had left most of his wedding cake untouched. Far too many fats and sugars and it was getting late, and he was now well into his carbohydrate curfew. He took a breath. "Maybe we can leave early?"
She looked around the marquee. "The party is really just getting started. Just a while longer?"
Martin looked at the pleading in her eyes. He'd have been just as pleased to wed in the registry office, but Louisa wanted this; this crowding and loud mishmash of music, people talking, eating and drinking. This was her style – what she liked – she liked people, unlike him.
But just then the music changed to something very romantic. He heard the words, "I am sailing, I am sailing, home again, across the sea. I am sailing, stormy waters, to be near you, to be free," so, he reached out his hand. "Come, Louisa, let's dance."
Author's Note: The UK broadcast and recordings of the Doc Martin Series 6, Episode 1 wedding dance used "Sailing" by Rod Stewart.
The DVD for the export market used a rather generic song. "My Heart" composed by Gareth Young in 2012. According to Buffalo Pictures, there is a blanket agreement in the UK allowing producers to use any song for free, but outside the UK, the rights to reproduce the songs are very expensive. Therefore, the change in the wedding song.