Chapter 8: Martin's Experience

Martin was a natural sceptic and still annoyed at the idea of ghost hunters coming to Tremethyk House, but he had a reason for agreeing besides appeasing Louisa and Ruth. He didn't want to say anything to them, but something strange had happened to him while he was in the basement.

He was fascinated by Sir Matthew's chemistry lab, which was untouched since the old man had died. The room was about 30 feet long and 10 feet wide, with only a small window high up near the ceiling for dim natural light. Martin clicked on the wall switches, which turned on the ceiling light and a ventilation fan. The walls were still lined with shelves full of bottles and glass beakers, though the gas line that fed the Bunsen burners was disconnected. The table held the notebooks where the old man chronicled his experiments over the years, though it had obviously been some time since he had been active in the lab.

Martin looked over the shelves to see what supplies of chemicals were still there, and then sat down to go through the old man's notes. After a few minutes, he felt a chill and a strange feeling came over him, making him wonder if he was coming down with a cold. The scar on his arm ached. He began to feel increasingly uncomfortable, breaking into a cold sweat, the hair on the back of his neck standing up.

A sudden dry heave took him by surprise, like that old familiar retching that the sight and smell of blood triggered. That same tightening in the throat that he'd also experienced when preparing to move the family to London recently. He hadn't felt it since realizing he wanted to stay in Portwenn after all. So why is this happening now, he thought, there isn't even any blood here.

He began to feel that someone, or something, was in the room with him, and he was being watched. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an ominous grey shape drifting into view, and moving toward him like a human figure. He felt his eardrums vibrate but there was no discernable sound. His heart began to pound as the shape began swiftly moving right up to his side, when he whirled around to face it and it moved back.

Heart pounding, he fled up the stairs and out to the back garden, where he vomited in the grass. Taking a handkerchief to wipe his mouth, he rested on a bench until he could catch his breath and the heart pounding slowly subsided. He wondered for a moment if what he had seen was a rodent but no, it was too big and too far off the ground, and was moving so close to him it was unnerving.

He went back inside but was reluctant to go down into the basement to visit the room again. He went into the kitchen to find Mr. Robinson. "Er, has my aunt arrived yet?"

"Not yet, sir. She said she would be here in time for tea, which will be served at 4 o'clock."

"Thank you," Martin said. The butler turned to get back to work, when Martin addressed him again. "Er, Mr. Robinson, I was wondering… did Sir Matthew ever mention anything, er… strange happening in his basement laboratory?"

"Strange, sir? How do you mean?"

Martin wasn't sure what he meant. "Something like an unusual noise, or perhaps… a chemical spill, something that might cause lingering toxic fumes."

"No, sir. No noises that I'm aware of, but Sir Matthew was rather deaf in his later years. As for spills, Sir Matthew took care of things himself, he didn't expect me or Mrs. Robinson to go down there. And he had a new ventilation system installed down there just a few years ago. If you have any concerns I can inspect the lab myself."

"No, no, that won't be necessary."

At that moment, the bell rang at the front door and down the hall the Clock Room began striking 4 o'clock. "I'll get the door, that'll be my aunt," Martin said. "Please let my wife and Mrs. Glasson know that tea is served."


The next day, Martin was back in his office, pondering his strange experience. After hearing what Louisa and Eleanor had described in the library, he couldn't help wondering if the ghost hunters might turn up something going on in the old house. Of course nothing supernatural, he dismissed that idea. But at least it would keep the others occupied while he figured out what was really going on. And he advised Louisa it was best if they didn't bring the children to the house for the time being and she agreed.

Meanwhile, he was occupied seeing patients. Several that morning had resisted taking their prescribed medication for their ailments and suggested that he allow them to travel up to Tremethyk House and visit the Doctor's Stones. Mr. Jackson said his old Gran used to say the Doctor's Stones cured her arthritis, now he was suffering from the same affliction and he wanted to try it himself.

"You crawl through the hole in the centre stone, Doc. That's how it's done. My Gran was a housemaid up at Tremethyk House and she swore by it."

"Don't be ridiculous. The hole is no more than 50 centimetres in diameter,' he said, looking at the patient's ample waistline. "Even if you could get through it you'd likely hurt your back, and all for a silly superstition. No, I won't allow it, I don't want people showing up at the house, trampling the garden, and getting themselves stuck in a hole."

Mr. Jackson grumbled but took the prescription Martin wrote out for him.

At midday, there was a break in his schedule. He took the opportunity to check his blood pressure, heart rhythm, and reflexes, just to be certain there was nothing wrong that might cause him to hallucinate. Everything seemed normal. Just as he was thinking about doing a vision self check, there came a knock at the office door and Chris Parsons entered.


Chris reflected on his long time friend, whom he knew from back in their medical school days. Martin could be so aggravating. You never knew what was going to happen with him next. Just a few months ago he was moping about, caring for his baby daughter, tinkering with clocks and hoping the GMC would just invite him back into the fold. Yet he still found time to write scholarly papers and invent the Ellingham Cup. Then he expected Chris to intervene for him with Prof. Langan and get him his old position back, which succeeded against the odds even though Martin had practised medicine without a license in treating that woman whose car almost went off the cliff. Then after practicing for a short while he got invited to be the keynote speaker at the annual ob-gyn conference in London, which netted him a prestigious job offer at Imperial College London. He was then going to abandon the GP position Chris had worked so hard to get back for him, causing an uproar in the village, only to abruptly change his mind after experiencing a serious accident. And, as if that wasn't enough, he had blabbed to Helen, in his usual oblivious fashion, about Chris's unfortunate drunken indiscretion attempting to kiss Louisa that one time.

Really, the man had the emotional awareness of a breadstick, as Chris had recently told him.

To be fair, Chris reminded himself, shortly after he made that remark, Martin had saved his life. Chris still had occasional nightmares about going to rescue Helen from the water and being trapped in the rocks himself. He could still feel the cold waves slowly rising higher and higher, closing in on him, slapping against his face, as the tide inexorably rolled in. It took Martin's strong arms to wrench him loose. Chris was never so glad to make it to dry land, despite the searing pain in his freed ankle.

Now here he was, alive and mostly well, walking with a cane, and with his once rocky relationship with Helen saved by the near death experience. All thanks to the most aggravating - and remarkable - person he knew.

"Martin!"

"Come in, Chris. Good to see you. How are you doing?"

Chris took a seat and held up the cane. "Much better, but recuperating from metatarsal fractures and surgery on a torn Achilles tendon from the way you hauled me up with my foot lodged in the rocks, you big brute." He chuckled. "Seriously though, I've been meaning to thank you for saving my life."

"Mm, just happy to help. And how is Hannah, er, Helen doing?"

"She's recovering nicely, and it's funny how near death experiences for the two of us has really improved our relationship," Chris chuckled again. "But as for you Martin, just when I think you couldn't be any more surprising, you go and manage to get yourself a title and a country house to go with it."

"I didn't do anything to get all that, it just happened to come to me. And frankly, it's proving something of a burden. Just this morning some patients said they wanted to visit the Neolithic stone formation in the garden there for some miracle cure." Martin shook his head in disgust.

"Well, superstition does run deep in these parts. How's Louisa bearing up under the burden?"

"She seems like she's taken to it all. She and her mother are bringing in some ghost hunters to do an exorcism or some ridiculous thing."

Chris laughed out loud. "I know Tremethyk House is legendary around this area, and people are intrigued that there's a new owner since it's been off limits for so long. In fact, I don't know if you've heard, but there's this Cornish-American professor, Hugh Pascoe, coming to visit. Helen's book group is very excited about it and they're starting to turn it into a real event."

"Hm. Never heard of him. What's that got to do with Tremethyk House?"

"She wanted me to ask you, if, uh… you would be willing to allow them to set up a marquee tent there on the grounds to host a literary festival, with him as the special guest. They're doing it on short notice and they don't want to have to wait for the village council to grant permission. I know you saved my life and all, but I did get you your job back."

Martin scowled. "Everyone seems to want something from me now. All right, I suppose there's no harm in it. I'll give you the contact information for Mr. Robinson, the butler there. They can coordinate with him."

Chris thanked him and was ready to leave when Martin stopped him. "Um, I was just wondering… Have you read anything in the medical literature that might pertain to… er, causes of hallucinations… grey hazy type hallucinations that some people might mistake for ghostly apparitions?"

His friend looked at him in surprise. "Has this got anything to do with Tremethyk House's reputation for being haunted?"

"Maybe." Martin was reluctant to go into much detail. "It was Louisa and her mother, they had a strange experience in the library there. My aunt and I figured breathing in mould spores from old books had something to do with it, but I'm wondering if there might be another cause behind this sort of thing, possibly involving vibrations."

Chris thought for a moment. "It does remind me of something I read once, nothing medical though. It was about some research done by an engineer at Coventry University. If I can remember what it was I'll send you some information when I get home."

Martin nodded in appreciation. Chris went out through the reception area and the thought occurred to him again – you really never knew what was going to happen next with Martin.

To be continued…