Chapter 7: See Chapter 1 Disclaimer

Recalling that he had to arrange his mother's funeral seemed to deflate Martin, so the ride home was largely conducted in silence. When they arrived at the surgery, Mark helped them both get out of the van. Louisa thanked Mark profusely and Martin shook his hand and uttered a brief but sincere thank you. With that, Mark went on his way.

Al heard the van drive up, so he was ready for the Ellinghams to arrive. Morwenna was playing with Mary, who was a bit of a late walker but clearly making a breakthrough. Having an older brother had lessened her motivation, of course, because James was more than happy to get things for his sister whenever she could make her wants clear. Morwenna had Mary pulling herself up easily and covering the short distances between furniture and people in the small surgery. Meanwhile, James was playing with Christmas gifts, but he jumped up and ran towards his parents. "Mummy, are you alright? Al said you bumped your head. Do you need me to kiss it?"

Louisa replied, "Oh, yes, James, I told the doctor at hospital that he could send me home because my son knew just how to make me all better." James assessed the logistics of the situation as only a highly intelligent four-year-old could, standing on his tiptoes and then eyeing the room for something to climb. Martin noticed and lifted James, who gently kissed Louisa on the back of the head. "Ahh, really, that's all I needed. Thank you, James."

"You're welcome, Mummy. I think Daddy could probably make you better. He can fix anybody." Louisa smiled and even Martin managed a satisfied expression. Apparently, all was forgiven in the Christmas Scrooge department between James and his father. There's a lot to be said for the healing power of a ride in Santa's sleigh, with Daddy at the wheel.

Al asked, "How'd it go, Doc? You're both home so it can't have been too bad."

Martin replied, "As I thought, Louisa suffered a mild concussion. Morwenna, you used your first aid training properly. Well done." That elicited a big smile from Portwenn's official first aid responder.

Louisa had taken a seat on the sofa by this point, and now asked Martin for a cuppa. "I'm also a little peckish, Martin. You had mentioned soup earlier. Does that offer still stand?"

"Of course, I'll start it immediately. I'll cut up some fruit and cheese to hold you over in the meantime."

Louisa asked, "Al, Morwenna, Martin always makes a bucketload of soup so there will be plenty, if you're hungry." Martin's eyes widened dramatically at Louisa's statement. He wanted nothing more than to shoo everyone out.

"No thanks, Louisa, we'd just as soon get home. We have some things that need cooking today. You guys take care of yourselves. You've had a year's worth of trouble in about three days."

Louisa thanked them both profusely. "Really, I don't how we would have coped. Without having two people to manage the children, what with the ice and all, this would have been even more traumatic than it already was. Isn't that right, Martin?"

Martin had to agree, although not as effusively. "Yes, yes."

The young Larges said their goodbyes and Martin set to the task of preparing the family some dinner.

After dinner was eaten and the children were settled, Louisa rested on the sofa with ice on the back of her head. "Martin, any thoughts about your Mother's funeral."

"I'm thinking of just having her cremated and buried with my father in a private ceremony. I'm not even sure if we need to go to it. It would be in London and none of us needs that trip right now."

Louisa's head wanted to issue the usual platitudes, such as, "But it's your mother, Martin," but that was really the point here. Her heart knew that Martin's mother didn't deserve the title. Margaret did nothing but traumatize her son. Even after death, she haunted his conscience as a symptom of hypothermia. Louisa decided support was the only path here.

"Martin, I'd like to say I understand but of course I only know part of the story. At the same time, based on what I know, I completely get what you're saying and I'm 100% behind you if that's how you want to handle it. Surely there are some personal effects, however. Do those need to be sorted?"

"I don't know the situation under which she ended up dying in London. The last I knew, she was in Portugal. I assume some solicitor is looking for me. Then again, maybe I've been disinherited on top of everything else. I would like to get my grandfather's clock back though. I assume she sold it, there was no other reason to take it. Retrieving the clock or a bill of sale is worth involving myself. Tomorrow, I will call the last solicitor I know my father used in case my mother used him too."

The day had been quite arduous and eventful, so Martin and Louisa were more than happy to make it an early night.

zzzzZZZZzzzz

The 27th of December dawned bright and exceptionally cold. The roads had been gritted by now, so that walking wasn't nearly as treacherous as the day before.

Louisa still had a headache and hadn't slept as well as she might have, because she usually slept a bit on her back. The bruise there was substantial and pressing on it was quite painful. She found herself alone in bed and understood why when she glanced at the clock. It was already after 9, well after Martin typically arose. She got up, donned her dressing gown, and made her way to James' room. He was also absent, so she checked Mary's room, expecting and finding it the same. Martin must have taken the children downstairs to allow her to have a lie in. Louisa thought it a shame that the village didn't know this side of him, but she had given up really caring if they did or not. She knew it and that's what mattered. Their loss. At least they appreciated him as their doctor.

Martin and the children were at the table, finishing their breakfasts. Martin looked smart, as usual, in a dark suit and tie. He had also dressed the children. Louisa was pleased Martin could pick reasonable outfits. They may not be described as cute really, but the colors matched and James and Mary looked really, ah, neat.

Martin greeted Louisa, "Ah, you are up. How are you feeling? Can you manage some breakfast? You do need to eat something even if you may not feel like it."

"Good morning to you too, Martin. I feel as you'd expect, a sore spot on the head and my neck is a little bit stiff. And yes, I would like some breakfast. An egg will do, and some fruit if you have any."

"Yes." Martin set to the task at hand, washing and cutting up some apples and pears and setting an egg on to boil. 'Toast? Tea?"

"I'll take a cuppa, but no toast, thank you. What is your plan for the day?"

"I intend to call my father's solicitor as soon as you feel able to watch the children. I'd like to take that call from my consulting room and Mary is at a stage in her mobility where she needs constant supervision. I will make it as quick as possible as you are still concussed."

"Yes, Martin, it's not like I can easily forget that. I'll finish my breakfast and then dress quickly. I'm sure I can manage the children."

"Mm, good. Remember that you still need to rest today."

As soon as the egg timer dinged, there was a knock on the surgery door. "Oh, God," muttered Martin. "It had better be an emergency."

"Better yet, it would be nice if it were just a visitor, although you're right, Martin, unlikely at this time of the morning."

Martin took the time to put the egg into its cup for Louisa and set it in front of her before heading to the door. He opened it to find Joe Penhale again, with Janice in tow.

"Doc, she's still barfing. You said to come back in 48 hours if she wasn't better."

Martin sighed. "Right, yes, come through. Not you, Penhale." With that, he and Janice proceeded into the consulting room. "Tell me about the last two days."

Janice replied, "Well, the barfing is less, and it doesn't burn when I pee. Oh, and I don't have to pee all the time."

"Good, good. The antibiotics seem to have started addressing the UTI. How often do you vomit?"

"Off and on, Doc, I feel sick all the time. I'm just eating toast and tea."

"Right. I'm going to take some blood and here's a container for a urine sample. You can use the toilet outside the consulting room or bring it back from home. Just make sure you hand it to me within an hour of production. Don't just leave it outside." Martin could envision Janice leaving the container outside in the freezing cold.

"Yuck. Fine. I think I can do it here." Janice produced what was needed and Martin joined Joe and her in the waiting room.

"Penhale, pick up some energy drinks. They are filled with electrolytes and way too much sugar, but she needs more calories than just toast and tea. If she can manage a protein drink, add that." Turning to Janice, "You continue the antibiotics until they are finished and update me tomorrow on the surgery phone if you are no worse. If you are worse, call my mobile and plan to come in. In the meantime, I'll send these samples to the lab to see if there's something else going on."

Penhale said, "Will do. Thanks Doc. Glad we can team up to get Janice better."

"Mm." Martin could tolerate talk like this from Penhale better when the man didn't mention 'Dynamic Duo'. Since deciding to stay in Portwenn and receiving the cuckoo clock from Joe as a gift, Martin tried to be a bit more even tempered with him.

Joe and Janice made their exit, Janice atypically silent, and Martin checked that Louisa had in fact finished breakfast and was dressed and supervising James and Mary. He then proceeded back to the consulting room to contact his father's solicitor, Nigel St. Aubyn, who answered on the third ring.

"This is Dr. Martin Ellingham, son of Mr. Christopher and Margaret Ellingham, recently deceased. Am I correct that you are my parents' solicitor?"

St. Aubyn replied, with a raspy voice, "Ah, Dr. Ellingham, I had intended to reach out to you later this week after the holidays had settled down some. First, may I extend my condolences on the death of your mother, Margaret. It's tough to lose one's last parent, even at our age."

Martin chose not to encourage such talk, replying with a terse, "Right," before continuing. "I thought it possible that you might not have my contact information."

"No, I had it in my records from when your father died. Assuming, that is, that you are still in Portwenn at the same place." He chuckled. "Your father always referred to it as a backwater."

Martin winced slightly, then confirmed he was still in the same place.

"Your Mother specified that I should leave her final disposition up to her remaining family, although these instructions are from before your father died and may be out of date. I assume you have some idea of what she may have wanted?"

"Ah, yes, well, we ah didn't speak much. My hope is that we will be able to give you some simple instructions and have you take care of things for us in London. We plan to have her cremated and buried next to my father."

"Very well. From my long association with your parents, that seems as if it would have been acceptable. Now, about the wake, what were your.."

Martin interrupted. "We plan to make this a private ceremony, with the number of attendees quite small if at all. I am an only child, my mother was also an only child, and my father's remaining sibling was estranged from my parents as well. These, um, ceremonies are typically for the remaining family, and this is no one else's business."

St. Aubyn scratchily replied, "Well, um, right, uh…. Knowing your parents for as many years as I have, I believe they might have expected an event similar for your mother as there was for your father?" He was not aware of the dangerous ground he was treading.

Martin replied, in a tight and terse tone, "One thing I learned from my parents. You don't want to cause an adult too much trouble. Are you able to arrange things as I have proposed?" St. Aubyn could almost feel the frost coming across the line.

St. Aubyn replied, "Yes, Dr. Ellingham. Those are straightforward and simple arrangements. Shall I clear the dates with you?"

"No, there is no need. Just please let me know when it's finished."

St. Aubyn didn't seem that happy, but it wasn't his business to be anything other than professionally aloof. His deceased clients did not have the best opinion of their son and he was starting to understand why, although clearly the man was successful. "Very well. There is also the matter of the reading of the will. Is that something you plan to attend in person?"

"Are you aware of its terms? If I am not included in the will, then I have no need to attend at all."

"You are the sole recipient of your mother's assets which, I must warn you, are not much."

"If that's the case, then is it something we can do over the phone, preferably now?"

St. Aubyn sounded a bit pained. "I had not prepared for that today. I hope you will bear with me and let me arrange for that at a later day."

Martin frankly would have liked to get everything over with at once, but given he needed to speak to this man at least once more, when the burial was complete, he agreed. St. Aubyn was about to ring off when Martin chimed in, "And make an appointment with your GP. You clearly have a respiratory or structural issue affecting your voice, perhaps GORD or asthma."

"This is the same voice I've had all my life."

"Mm, oh. Well make an appointment anyway." And with that, Martin hung up.

A/N: The original version of this chapter had a plot mistake making it seem as if Morwenna were still Doc's receptionist. Morwenna has a proposal to become that, but it hasn't been decided yet. I have also revised James' age down from the original seven that I had to a more likely 4.