(Banging on door)
- Doc! Doc! - Doc!
(Banging continues)
- What the hell is that? - Doc!
Martin.
We found him on the beach. I think he's got hypothermia or something.
Well, stop thinking. Get him into the consulting room.
Careful.
(Alarm bleeps)
(Baby cries)
- Do you know this man? - No, never seen him before.
He were just lying there. I thought he were dead.
- Is he dead? - No.
- Are you sure? - Go away.
Hello?
Can you hear me?
- Can you tell me your name? - Is everything all right?
You ever seen this man before?
- No. Sorry. - Thirsty.
- Can you get him a drink of water? - I must get James dressed.
Fine, I'll fetch you a glass of water.
- Got to go now. - No, you don't.
You stay there. You were found unconscious on the beach.
- Can you tell me how that happened? - (Baby cries)
- Sorry, I've got to go up there. - Yes.
You appear to be dehydrated.
Drink this.
And stay there while I get dressed.
Morwenna!
- Al, what are you doing? - I'm moving in.
- It’s a bit early. - I wanted to catch you before you went to work.
- It's not for hours. - You know it's quarter to eight?
What? Oh, God!
Morwenna?
- Can you tell me your name? - Robert.
- Full name? - Robert Campbell.
Do you know where you are, Mr. Campbell?
- Cornwall. - More specifically?
Portwenn.
Are you Dr. Ellingham?
Yes, I am. Are you registered at this practice?
No. Not yet.
- Who's your GP? - I don't have one. I've been on the move.
You were unconscious when they found you.
- Has that happened before? - Not so far as I'm aware.
I really have to go.
Sit back now. Sit back.
Breathe deeply.
- Do you feel light-headed? - I'm fine.
Been a little tired, that's all.
There's a world of difference between being tired and passing out.
- Do you live here with your family? - That's not your concern.
But there are a few of you around here? Ellingham?
I'll take some blood now.
- When did you last eat something? - I had some breakfast...yesterday.
Your blood-sugar levels could be low. That'd make you light-headed.
(Muffled female voice)
Who's that I can hear upstairs?
- Stop talking. - Your wife?
Mother? Aunt?
Be quiet.
Take Mr. Cornwall's details. I'll be down in a couple of minutes.
Take your time. I need a cup of tea first.
- Right. Hold on a sec. - (Phone rings)
Portwenn Surgery.
(Loudly) Oh, hello, Mr. Barnett, how are you?
No, I said how are you?
I think you're supposed to rub it on your rash.
Your rash.
No, I don't suppose it did taste very nice.
Sorry, I won't be long, Mr...
How rude.
Yeah. No, I'm not coming round.
Look. Yum, yum, yum.
- Morning. - Oh, Mike, hello.
- You're early. - I'm bang on time.
Are you?
- Hello. - No, it's fine. I can manage.
- All right, Doc? - Michael.
So I thought we'd go to Minnie's playtime at the library.
- I don't think that starts till next week. - It started last Monday.
I don't want him cooped up inside all day.
We'll be on the beach later. Should be good weather for sandcastles.
- But sun block. He'll need sun block. - Packed it. Factor 50.
- OK. - Come on, then, Sonny Jim.
It's James, actually. And you'll be back at five, yeah?
- On the dot. - And you won't be late?
No.
Bye-bye, darling. See you later.
- See you all later. - Bye.
- You know that sign's there for a reason? - What reason could that be?
- To stop you from parking. - Not doing a very good job, then.
If you fail to move your vehicle, I'll issue a fixed-penalty notice.
Oh, I should just be two minutes, Constable.
- Really? - Absolutely.
- Seeing as it's you, Dr. Ellingham. - Thank you so much.
- Owl - Careful.
Be quiet. How long have you been in pain?
It's been hurting all night and all morning.
- I've been sick three times. - We had a meal at Bert's yesterday.
- Sunday lunch. - It tasted funny.
- What did you eat? - I had some fish.
- Sea bass, it said on the menu... - Not you. What did you eat?
Roast chicken. Do you think it's food poisoning?
It's always a possibility. I'd need to examine a stool sample.
- Can you provide me with one? - What's that?
- Poo-poo. - Mum!
Not to worry. I'll give you a sterile container and the next time you go to the lavatory
put a small piece of... poo-poo in it and let the receptionist have it.
Mrs. Wead just dropped this off. She said Becky's ill,
but can you read her newspaper and give her the OK to start printing?
- I'll read it later. - Becky wants to hear back by lunchtime.
Oh, does she? Yeah, well, I'm just popping out.
- Everything OK? - Yeah, fine.
And now another blue one on top.
Oh, hello. You OK?
- Yeah, me. You? - Great.
Yeah, we're having a lovely time, ain't we, James?
Hey, do you think Mummy's checking up on us?
No, no. I just had to pop back for something.
This looks fun.
Shall we put this on the top?
Shall we? Look.
- There.
- Louisa... - What?
Well, it's blue on top.
Does it matter?
No.
Well, yeah.
- Why? - Well, they're in order, aren't they?
OK.
Happy now?
Yeah.
OK. On with the red row.
Ruth, please.
Radio Portwenn has survived for many years without me.
We've had letters, postcards and email, would you believe?
The listeners loved you.
Even so, I don't think psychiatric advice should be dispensed in 60-second sound bites.
But you do it so well - with wit, warmth, compassion.
And it's so rare to have a proper expert in the studio.
Most of the people know less than me about their so-called specialty.
The gardening guru is allergic to soil.
The newsreader is dyslexic.
And there's no one around here who has a fraction of your expertise
when it comes to dealing with mental people.
- People with mental-health issues. - They need you.
We all need you. This is your chance to help us.
You're putting me in a very awkward position.
I know. Is it working?
Possibly.
- You lost something? - The espresso cups.
With the saucers, bottom right.
I hope you don't mind. I moved things round a bit more.
You might find the drawers are a little different too. Sorry.
It seems logical.
You're OK with how I'm doing, ain't you?
I mean, if there's anything you don't like, just tell me.
No, I can have a cup of coffee now.
Is Louisa all right?
Yes.
She had a cup of tea earlier.
- Your first patient's here, Doc. - All right.
- Morning. - Hello, Morwenna.
Morwenna.
Morwenna!
- Are you feeling better? - Not too bad, thanks.
- Is that the school newspaper? - Yeah.
- I haven't approved it yet. - You said you'd read it yesterday.
But you didn't and I couldn't wait any longer.
You should have done. How many copies have you handed out?
Loads. And I've delivered quite a few to the shops, cafes, pubs.
- I told you I was going to. - But after I've given my approval.
- Where did you get them printed? - I used the photocopier in my dad's office.
Becky, you're going to stop handing these out until I've read it.
- But that's censorship! - Yes, it is.
Now, pick up that box and come with me.
I'm really very cross with you because you have not listened.
So, how was your first night without me, then?
I can't lie, boy. I miss seeing your toothbrush next to mine.
Here, put that out and go peel some 'taters.
- Oh. Yeah. - Here, have you seen this?
- What? - It's the Portwenn Junior Journal.
I found a pile of them on the steps this morning.
- There's a review of our restaurant. - Is it good?
It's by a Becky Wead. She says her...
"Roast chicken dinner was the most disgusting meal
I've ever had the misfortune to consume.”
So, not good.
It gets worse.
"I was sick throughout the night and all the next morning,
poisoned by the unhygienic food preparation.”
- Poisoned? She can't say poisoned. - I think that's libel.
- Or is it slander? - Either way, it's bad for business.
We need an apology and damages.
Frankly, Louisa, I'm surprised you allowed this rubbish to be published.
I didn't actually see the review before it was printed.
And I wouldn't have allowed it into the paper if I had.
- Everything I wrote was true. - Food poisoning?
That's what Doc Martin said.
How could he know it was our restaurant? You could have got it anywhere.
Mr. Large and Mr. Large have a business that might well suffer because of this.
- Good. - Good? You little...
Leave this to me. Becky, go back to class. I'll have a word with you a little later.
I'm not happy, Louisa. I want a full retraction.
I will sort this out, Bert.
Well, if you don't, your people are going to hear from our people.
- We don't have any people. - Shut up.
- We could have pretended we had lawyers. - She knows we can't afford them, Dad.
Here, hang on a minute. I think I know her.
- Do you? - Yeah. I'm sure I do.
I'll see you later, boy.
- I'm going down the hill to get fish. - Could you get me a battered sausage?
No.
- I'm out of Primidone. - I know.
- Did you get some more? - No. The chemist is open again.
- Is Mrs. Tishell back? - No.
Someone else is running the place till she gets out. I was going to go there tomorrow
I'll go myself. Today.
All right.
- Bert! - Nice to see you round these parts again...
- Jennifer. - Jenny. Right.
- That weekend in Polperro. - Polzeath. And Pendoggett.
Oh, yes! (Chuckles)
You should have kept in touch, Bert.
- I got married. - Yeah, sol heard.
You can tell a lot about a person from how they keep their shop.
Everything here is all over the place.
You've changed a bit. Bit more curvy.
Ditto.
If you need a hand moving into the upstairs flat, my boy will help.
Mrs. Tishell told my agency that it's private property.
So I've rented a room in the Crab and Lobster.
Oh, that's a bit pricey. I've got a place up the hill.
It's a 8&8. It's a lovely room. Free at the moment.
I don't know.
The Crab can be noisy, especially Saturday nights.
- It is a nice idea. - It is, isn't it?
Oh, hello, Doc. Jenny, this is Doc Martin.
Doc Martin, this is our lovely new local pharmacist, Jenny Cardew.
- Yes. I need some provisions. - We're not serving customers till tomorrow.
Oh, I'm sure Jenny can make an exception for you, Doc.
So am I.
Right.
- Prednisone coming up. - Prednisone? Good God, woman.
I have clearly written Primidone.
- Oh. - That could be fatal.
Have you? Let's see.
Well, it might help if you wrote in capital letters.
It might help to get your eyes tested.
I knew you two would hit it off.
Hm. Right.
Here, Doc. I need to talk to you about Becky Wead.
There's no time. I have to buy an onion.
Did you tell her she got food poisoning from me?
- I can't discuss my patients with you. - Hang on! I need to sort this out.
Oh...
- Pollock
- Sold out of everything else. - Say hello to Daddy. Say, "Hello, Daddy."
Becky Wead wrote a terrible review of Bert's restaurant.
- Bert wants an apology. - It’s a terrible restaurant.
- A terrible review seems appropriate. - It's not that bad.
Although the chicken wasn't very good, allegedly.
- Becky said it gave her food poisoning. - That's just a possibility.
- So it might not be Bert's fault? - I can't discuss my patients.
I haven't had the test results back. Even then, I won't be able to discuss them.
That's not much help, is it?
Louisa, you seem rather tense.
Of course! You've no idea what it's like me leaving James with a stranger,
trying to work when all I can think of is my baby and counting the minutes till I get home.
I told you you went back to work too early.
Don't start.
To makes things worse, James has decided he doesn't need food.
Don't worry. He ate an enormous breakfast then an even bigger lunch with Michael.
Oh.
Well, good for Michael.
(Hens clucking)
- Morning. - Shh.
- He should be awake now. - He had a bad night. So did we.
Go through.
The sooner you get him into an appropriate routine, the better for everyone.
- Ruth hi.
- To what do we owe this pleasure? - I had half an hour to kill.
I felt like a coffee
and I thought you might like to wish me a happy birthday.
It's your birthday? Ruth, happy birthday!
- What are you doing to celebrate? - What I always do.
Absolutely nothing.
- Martin. - Hm?
Um...
Yes, I could take you to lunch.
All right. Pick me up at 12:30.
- I'm busy all morning. - What are you doing?
- Broadcasting live on Radio Portwenn. - Oh, not that awful phone-in?
No, Martin, I'm reading the football results.
I think she was joking.
I see.
Followed by Ask The Gardener with Gordon Spelling,
who's back from sick leave and raring to go.
But next on Radio Portwenn, it's the return of Dr. Ruth Ellingham,
who will be offering advice to anyone who needs it
Louisa! Louisa!
- Do you want to walk together? - I'd love to, but I'm late.
I've got to get a move on. Oh, bye-bye, darling.
- Bye-bye, sweetie. See you later. - Bye.
- What have you done about that newspaper? - I haven't had a moment.
Meanwhile, anyone that visits Portwenn can read that my restaurant is not safe to eat in.
Have your bookings gone down since yesterday?
They've not gone up. And that newspaper's full of lies and slander.
- Its actually libel. - Then do something about it!
- I don't have any time, Bert. - And I don't have any customers, Louisa!
You never did, Bert!
WOMAN: I mean, what's the point? I feel like life's not worth living.
- What's there to look forward to? - Oh, come on, Sheila.
There's plenty of things to look forward to.
There's the Steam Fair, there's the Flower Show,
and the Portwenn musical players are giving us their Oklahoma next month.
- (Line goes dead) - Hello?
I'm afraid we've lost Sheila. So let's try our next caller.
Perhaps I should speak to this one.
- Of course, Dr. Ruth. - Dr. Ellingham, please.
MAN: Hello, Dr. Ellingham. Can you hear me?
- Yes, she can. What... - What's your name?
- Call me Bob. - And what's your problem, Bob?
- There's a woman. CAROLINE: Isn't there always?
I've known her for years. She means everything to me, and I wanted...
RUTH: / have nothing to say about affairs of the heart
CAROLINE: Not that we're trying to get rid of you.
Yes, we are.
I'm sure Dr. Ruth would like to offer some advice.
Advice is like snow.
The softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon.
And the deeper it sinks into the mind.
I can't remember who said that.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
Well, Bob, I suppose if I had to...
.I'd suggest that you speak to this woman.
Tell her how you feel
Face to face?
- That's always best. - And she will feel the same about me?
She will love me?
I can see Dr. Ruth nodding her head. Who do we have on line three?
- Oh. Hello, Bethany. - Can you hear me?
- Spit it all out, Beth. -I have to tell you now, see, the thing is...
There's no doubt you have an ulcer.
The only question is whether it's gastric or duodenal.
- You said it was food poisoning. - No, I didn't.
I'll make an appointment for you to have an endoscopy.
You agreed it was because of the chicken.
- No, I didn't. - Tell him, Mum.
I think you did actually mention the possibility that it could be.
The possibility, yes, but not the certainty or even the probability.
- Do you know the difference? - Don't talk to my mum like that.
I'll talk how I want. It's my surgery.
The tests on your faeces rule out food poisoning.
Is there any part of that sentence either of you is struggling with?
Good. Take this and go away.
(Door opens)
Oh!
Oh, you gave me a shock.
- Why? You knew I was coming. - Well, yes, I did.
Thanks for the cake.
That's nothing to do with me.
I don't like cake.
Come on.
So, someone’s been in the house.
- Perhaps it's one of your friends. - I don't have friends in Cornwall.
- And who would know it's my birthday? - I don't know.
- Maybe you announced it on the radio. - You heard my programme?
- Of course not. - I made no announcement on the radio.
It's not uncommon for women of your age to experience memory lapses.
Perhaps you told a neighbour then forgot.
Well, happy birthday to me.
(Inaudible muttering)
- Yum, yum, yum. - (Phone rings)
PC Joseph Penhale. 3021.
Is it a matter of life and death? Technically, I am on my refreshment break.
Sorry, Mr. Nugent, but is it vital that you get through that particular gate right now?
I don't think it's appropriate to speak to an officer of the law in that manner.
If you repeat that threat, I could actually arrest you.
- I hope you're not driving anywhere. - I hadn't planned to.
Good.
Perhaps I have a secret admirer.
- Is that a realistic proposition? - You seem not to think so.
However, a red rose is a classic symbol of romantic love
and one appeared on my car the other day.
It's just possible I have a rather amorous stalker.
- That's just wishful thinking. - Oh, Martin, you know very well.
People are surprisingly eclectic in their sexual inclinations.
Eclectic? That's one word for it.
- Want me to come around tonight? - l don’t.
- You haven't touched your fish. - Uh...no.
- Something wrong? - No, I'm fine.
Martin?
I'm fine.
Possibly a slight problem with blood.
Haemophobia?
No.
I'm sure it's nothing. It'll disappear again.
And if it doesn't?
I have a name. Names. People you can talk to.
I'm sure it'll go.
Possibly.
Stay back.
(Flies buzzing)
- Yeah, two o'clock tomorrow. - Next patient.
Message from Truro hospital.
Doc, it's my leg. It's acting up again.
It can wait and so can you. It's the blood test for Robert Campbell.
Doc?
Mr. Miller, I'm not going to examine your leg in the reception room.
Go through to the consulting room and wait.
- Robert Campbell? - I know who he is.
The bloke they found on the beach. He's got type-2 diabetes.
- I know that. Get him in. - I can't. I don't know where he is.
- You took his details down. - I tried, but...
- Well, find him. - How am I supposed to do that?
- (Door slams) - OK, thank you for your help.
(Phone rings)
Joe? It's Morwenna. I need you to find someone for me.
It might look OK to you, Doc, but to me it feels gammy.
Gammy!
- (Phone rings) - No calls!
Have you landed awkwardly or twisted it lately?
Doc, pick up! It's urgent.
- Hello? - Hello, Doc. It's Penhale.
- Yes, Penhale, what is it? - Do you know a Barry Nugent?
Runs a dairy farm up at New Cross.
- His gate's been blocked by this car. - was told this call was urgent.
And there's this bloke, Robert Campbell, been sleeping in the car.
Robert Campbell's a patient. Is he there?
Not as such. But I'm a little bit confused because I found a diary in the car
and it's got some rather unsavoury comments about your Aunt Ruth.
- Is it Campbell's diary? - I assume so.
It seems he's quite an obsessive sort of character.
Somebody left a birthday cake in Ruth's kitchen.
Oh, that's nice.
Go to Ruth's farm as quickly as you can. I'll meet you there.
- Doc? - I haven't got time. I'll call you.
(Ringing tone)
(Phone rings)
(Water running)
Oh!
I'm so sorry, Dr. Ellingham.
Did I scare you?
- Mr. Campbell. - Please, Dr. Ellingham.
Call me Bob.
I knew you recognized my voice on the radio.
Thank you for making it clear what you wanted.
I'm afraid I don't really know what you're talking about.
Tell her how you feel, face to face?
- How did you find me? - You left so many clues in your book.
And that photograph.
That smile.
You know I've loved you ever since we first met.
Four years, five months, three weeks.
I don't blame you for telling them it wasn't safe to let me go.
They had to change their minds eventually.
Now we can start our new life, together.
- Where are you going? - Just downstairs.
I didn't lock the doors and we don't want to be disturbed, do we?
No.
I want to protect you, Bob, keep you safe.
I'll just go down to the kitchen.
I've locked every door, every window.
The phone's discon...
- What are you doing? - Just making sure that it's switched off.
Which it is.
Why don't we have a cup of tea?
Then you can tell me what you've been up to since we last met.
Nothing. I've done nothing since... you know.
Even so, I'd like to sit down and have a talk.
- We're going to have a bath. - Of course we are.
But why don't we have a cup of tea first?
We have all the time in the world.
- You called someone! - No, no. I promise.
- But you love me. You said you did. - When did I?
On the radio. "She will feel the same as I do."
"She will love me" and you nodded your head.
We have to be alone!
We have to!
Psst!
OK, sit rep. I got eyes on a male IC-1, who's inside with your aunt.
I didn't show myself. I want to know more about this Robert Campbell first.
As far as I'm aware, he's a stalker with a history of mental illness.
- Dangerous? Violent? - Quite possibly.
We need backup - SWAT team, chopper cover, armed response.
- Could you get all that? - No.
Idiot!
Ruth?
Where are you?
- It's just my nephew, Martin. - You can't be sure who it is.
It's me, Martin!
There you are. He only wants to say hello.
- We can't be sure if he's alone. - Oh, I'm sure he is.
Look, why don't we sit down?
Come on.
It's perfectly safe now.
PENHALE: Two armed officers to the north of the building, one to the south.
! want a sniper on the roof.
And keep the dogs in reserve until I give the word to release them.
(Barks like a dog)
The dogs are in position, Sarge. Do you want me to release the helicopter?
- Penhale, shut up! - Sorry.
- You're making it worse.
Try going in through the door. I can't see anything in the windows.
It's locked. I'll find a way in round the back.
Don't worry, Doc. We'll get her out.
Ruth!
If you come through that door, I will kill you.
Do you hear me? I will kill you.
Get out.
No. I'm worried about my aunt.
- And I'm worried about you. - There's nothing wrong with me.
You have type-2 diabetes, I've had your tests back.
- You're lying. - Oh, you must listen to my nephew.
- He knows what he's talking about. - I need to take your baseline sugar level,
give you insulin and get you to hospital.
I'm going nowhere. Tell him, Dr. Ellingham.
Oh, of course I will, Bob.
But before he goes, I wonder if perhaps he might not help you?
Do you really think, Martin, that insulin is the best thing for Bob right now?
What the hell are you talking about?
I thought perhaps Largactil might do a better job. Or Benzodiazepine?
Yes. I agree.
Well, at least the policeman shut up. That's good, isn't it?
- You don't think he's planning something? - I very much doubt it.
(Hens clucking)
- You mustn't leave me. - Then, I won't, Bob.
If that's what you want.
You were always very kind to me, Dr. Ellingham.
- I'm ready. - No!
Oh, please let him do this, Bob.
- Tell him to go away. - I think you'd better do as he says.
- Leave you alone with a psychopath? - I'm not a psychopath.
I am not a psychopath!
Want me to prove it?
Uh... No. I believe you.
Then go.
- Let go! - You let go!
- I hurt you. - will kill you.
ow!
I love you!
I knew it.
If you truly loved me, too,
you'd drop that knife.
Argh!
(Groggily) I don't feel very well.
Nobody move! Armed police!
- I've got a baton. - Oh, for God's sake!
Is this the loony? Stay down! If you attempt to get up, you will be Tasered.
I've left my Taser in the car. Could you get it?
- No. - Dr. Ellingham.
I love you.
Not me. He means her.
Am I right in assuming he's a former patient?
Yes. De Clerambault's syndrome.
A paranoid illusion with amorous fixations.
Probably made worse by the diabetes.
- I'll make you a cup of tea, if you like. - I'm not going back in that kitchen.
- What? Ever? - Well, certainly not tonight.
I've been out here long enough.
Tomorrow I'll look for somewhere to live in the village.
You really don't have to worry about him. He'll be locked up for years.
By the time he gets out, you'll... you'll have gone away.
Fingers crossed.
- Louisa. - Hi, Bert.
- What's happening with the newspaper? - Well...
I've thought about it. And I've decided not to do anything.
- It's just a school newspaper, Bert. - You've done nothing?
Well, what I've done is to allow a free-thinking intelligent girl
to write an article criticizing a meal she didn't enjoy very much.
- I know, but... - I can see it from your viewpoint.
And I'm sorry if you think Becky's been unfair. But she is ten.
I haven't poisoned anyone.
Not for ages, anyway.
Would it help if we put an advert into the next edition?
- OK. - Great. We'll do that, then.
But I want a photograph of the restaurant.
And the menu. And maybe a voucher.
I can take the photo myself, but it's up to you to pay for the printing!
Gosh, what a day. How's your hand?
- No, it's fine. - Are you sure you're all right?
- Yes. I'm fine. How was your day? - Yeah, good.
I bumped into Bert. Found myself defending Becky Wead.
Freedom of the press, fair comment. That sort of thing.
- Quite right. - She's written something about you now.
What?
'A bedside manner is a concept completely alien to Dr. Ellingham.
"He's patronizing, abrasive, and completely disempathetic."
It's not even a word.
I know, Martin.
But apart from that, I think it's very well written for a ten-year-old.
Yes.
Are you sure you're all right? You look very pale.
I'm fine. Thank you.