History

"We should get married," Danny said to Louisa.

"What brought this on?" Louisa. "I mean, we haven't been… you know." She reached up to brush his hair off his forehead. Goodness, she thought, sure they'd fooled around a little, some pretty heavy snogging but… marry Danny? "Not been that close," she finished with.

He protested, "We can come up to London, together like."

"But Danny, I have to finish school, and you'll just be starting architecture."

He smiled in his charming way. "So? We can still get married. You can come to visit at weekends. It'll be fun!"

Louisa chewed her lip. Marry Danny? She was only 17 and he'd just turned 18. "I don't… I can't." she cleared her throat. "And besides, I'm with Martin."

"Martin? Martin Bexley?" he laughed. "He's a dweeb!"

"No, no. Martin Ellingham!"

"Ellingham?" Danny said. "Who's he?"

"Our village GP! You know!"

Danny laughed. "Louisa, the village doc is Dr. Sim! Have you lost your marbles?"

Louisa started at her sometime boyfriend. How could he have forgotten? "Dr. Sim is dead!" she protested. "And besides, I'm gonna have a baby!"

Danny startled; his eyes wide. "A baby? Who you been dating? And I thought I was your boyfriend?" he nearly yelled.

"Danny," Louisa muttered, "we're not that close, are we? Never have been."

"But Lou… I love you."

"Danny, no you don't. And please don't call me Lou! How many times have I told you? It's Louisa; my name is Louisa."

He rested a hand on her shoulder and began to shake her. "Alright, Louisa then. Louisa, Louisa, Louisa," he repeated. "Time to wake up."

And from the corner of her eye, Louisa saw her mother standing there, frowning, which was very odd for mum had left when she was just eleven years old.

Louisa tried to resist, turn away, get away from his hand, finally pushing his fingers away, and then she cracked open her eyes to see Martin examining her with a concerned expression.

"Louisa, it's supper time," Martin said. "Nearly five forty-five."

She shook her head to clear the cobwebs. "Gosh. Sorry Martin. Guess I was really asleep."

Martin was still crouching down, his face near hers. "Um, yes." He'd heard her snoring and muttering a few words, seemingly protesting something or someone. She must have been dreaming. Early pregnancy could sap a woman's energy and the last few days had been stressful for both of them.

Louisa levered herself up with her elbows. "Sorry Martin, I was…" she shrugged. "I had a dream."

"Ah." He stood then and held out a hand to her, which she took.

She swung her legs down to the floor. "Such a muddle it was." She rubbed her forehead.

"Headache?" Martin asked,

She yawned. "No, I was having one of those dreams where the past and present are all mixed up."

Martin tipped his head. "Yes." He knew about those sorts of dreams, but sometimes reality could be its nightmare.

Louisa looked up at her husband, then she held out her arms to him, so he knelt down and hugged her.

Martin was slowly becoming familiar with his wife's needs for physical contact. This time, however, she pressed her face into his jacket and began to cry. "Louisa? What's wrong?"

She took a deep breath. "Sorry," she snuffled the words, "that dream… it upset me."

Martin reached to a tissue box, grabbed one, and handed it to her.

Louisa wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

Martin sighed. "Is something troubling you?"

Louisa just looked at him, while cataloging a few things. Edie Marrack, who was having a problem pregnancy and that would concern anyone who knew her, let alone being pregnant herself. Edie's little boy, tucked down with his teacher tonight because mum was in hospital and dad was still away. Edie's mum, now down in Truro, but having to rely on the kindness of strangers for help.

And that made her think about Eleanor, her own mother. Should she call her? Write to her in Spain? The last time was three years when they exchanged holiday greeting cards. That would be a fun telephone call. 'Hello, mum, this is Louisa and by the way, I'm married and pregnant. How are you?' No, bad idea; or maybe not.

The past was long and deep and there were any number of reasons not to contact mum. They… didn't get on, was the polite term. Last time she had seen her mum was when she was about thirty and mum had taken it into her head to fly up for the weekend. Seven years ago, wow. Long time ago and the two days together had been less than, well perfect.

The more Louisa thought about it, the longer and longer her list of cares and concerns became. Finally, she stopped herself with a will. Martin had moved to sit on the sofa next to her, one hand on hers, his face a mask of concern.

She turned to face him. "I… maybe I got weepy, just thinking about Edie and her mother and how a woman… well, sometimes she needs her mum to be around. I ought to…" she bit her lip. "Maybe call mine."

Martin shook his head. "Your what?"

Louisa breathed deeply. "MY mother."

Martin cleared his throat. "Right."

"Oh, not for a visit; nothing like that. Just to check in, you know."

Martin stood and turned towards the kitchen. "Suit yourself." He began to fiddle with the silverware on the table, aligning the utensils with the edges of the table mats. He checked the time on oven the timer. The chicken should almost be ready.

Louisa got up and approached him, cautiously. "I was just thinking. Mulling it over." She touched the tiny spray of flowers on the table. "Flowers are nice."

"Pauline left them."

"Nice of her."

Martin slipped on oven gloves and opened the oven door, pulling out a baking tray with breaded chicken sizzling on the hot metal. "There's sprouts and boiled potatoes plus a salad," he announced.

The smell made Louisa wrinkle her nose. "Plenty."

"Fruit crumble as well, for afters." He cleared his throat. "Aunt Joan dropped it off this afternoon, before you got home."

"That was nice of her. We should invite her to have dinner with us." Louisa paused, nearly adding that Joan was equivalent to Martin's mum. "Let's pick a night soon?"

"Yes," Martin replied. "Do you wish water or milk to have with your meal?"

"Water." She had already started pregnancy vitamins as well as a calcium supplement.

Martin efficiently loaded their plates, filled their water glasses, and then helped Louisa to be seated.

They began to eat their meal. Strangely, Martin said, "If you wish to contact our mother then do so."

Louisa wondered how she might react to Martin if she met him. "Okay."

"And how long since you saw her?"

"Oh, five years, no it was seven."

"I see."

"Of course, you saw your parents, last year."

Martin set down his fork and stared at her. "Horrid people."

Louisa winced at his words.

"Louisa, you are quite fortunate you didn't get to know them better." Martin was still angry and horribly disappointed with his parents. He always knew that they were different from other people, but their visit festered on very many levels. Martin hoped to never see them again.

Louisa ducked her head. "Sorry I brought it up, but I was just thinking about my mum."

Martin sighed. "Fine."

Louisa then asked, "I seem to recall you were telling me about an old colleague you ran across?" She smiled encouragingly. "And old friend, were they?"

Martin froze. "Right, but I did not expect that they'd turn up here in Cornwall. The big city is far more their type of domain."

Louisa smiled. "When did you know them?"

"Um… in school. Medical."

"Does Chris Parsons know them as well?"

"Yes," Martin said flatly, for this was getting into dangerous waters.

"What's his name?" Louisa asked.

Martin looked away, seeking an answer, when his mobile rang. He pulled it from his pocket. "Ellingham."

An old man's voice met his ear. "Doc? This is Mr. Routledge!" the man was shouting. "I dropped a knife, and it stuck me!"

"Where? Are you bleeding?" Martin asked.

"Oh yah. A lot."

"Where… ARE… YOU… BLEEDING?" Martin was yelling now.

"Leg. Fell from the table – the knife. Stuck me in the thigh."

Louisa's eyes were wide for she could hear the entire conversation.

Martin stood up. "Do not pull it out! I'll be right there!" He rung off. "Must go. Routledge."

"I heard." Louisa nodded. "Off you go, then." She went to the door and kissed her husband as he left with his medical bag. "See you."

"Right. Sorry about dinner," he said as he went out the door.

She watched as he ran down the hill. There goes the Doc, she thought.