Fingal O'Reilly, Irish Doctor
Read Fingal O'Reilly, Irish Doctor Online
Authors: Patrick Taylor
To Dorothy
A
CKNOWLEDGMENTS
In the acknowledgments section of
An Irish Country Wedding,
I wrote, “A friend recently remarked, ‘You always put acknowledgments at the start of your book. Why? Nobody ever reads them.’” Four days after publication, a reader e-mailed me, and her letter was not a happy one. She took pains to inform me that she invariably read acknowledgments, felt cheated if people who had contributed to a book were not recognised, and was certain she was not alone in this.
I stand corrected.
Fingal O’Reilly, Irish Doctor
would not have been written and published without the unstinting assistance of a large number of people. They are:
In North America
Simon Hally, Carolyn Bateman, Tom Doherty, Paul Stevens, Irene Gallo, Gregory Manchess, Patty Garcia, Alexis Saarela, and Christina Macdonald, all of whom have contributed enormously to the literary and technical aspects of bringing the work from rough draft to bookshelf.
Don Klancha, Joe Meir, and Mike Tadman, who keep me right in contractual matters. Without the help of the University of British Columbia Medical Library staff, much of the technical details of medicine in the thirties would have been inaccurate.
In The Republic of Ireland and The United Kingdom
Rosie and Jessica Buckman, my foreign rights agents.
The librarians of The Royal College of Physicians of Ireland, The Royal College of Surgeons in Ireland, and The Rotunds Hospital Dublin, and their staffs.
To you all, Doctor O’Reilly and I tender our most heartfelt thanks.
C
ONTENTS
1. I’ll Give You Leave to Call Me Anything
2. God and the Doctor We Alike Adore
3. I’m Not Even a Bus; I’m a Train
4. When the First Baby Laughed
5. Not All of These … Can Sleep So Soundly
6. One Law for the Rich … Another for the Poor
7. Ruinous and Old but Painted Cunningly
8. With Aching Hands and Bleeding Feet
9. Come, My Lad, and Drink Some Beer
11. One … Comes to Meet One’s Friends
12. Any Man’s Death Diminishes Me
14. I Was Sick, and Ye Visited Me
15. Bring Equal Ease unto My Pain
17. The Little Fishes of the Sea
18. The Clouds Ye So Much Dread
19. Like a Dog He Hunts in Dreams
21. In a Slither of Dyed Stuff
22. To Put Up with Rough Poverty
24. We Will Pardon Thy Mistake
28. In That Case What Is the Question?
29. Risk It on One Turn of Pitch and Toss
30. This Is the Happiest Conversation
32. I Hear It in the Deep Heart’s Core
33. To Comfort and Relieve Them
34. Dance, Dance, Dance, Till You Drop
36. The Heart No Longer Stirred
40. Upon the Walls of Thine House
41. Exulting on Triumphant Wings
42. I Have Heard of Your Paintings
43. Part at Last Without a Kiss
44. Choose Thou Whatever Suits
51. There’s a Good Time Coming
52. Keep Right on to the End of the Road
1
I’ll Give You Leave to Call Me Anything
“Our first breakfast together as man and wife in our own home,” said Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly, beaming at the suntanned woman across the table. “And how does it feel to be back in Number One Main Street, Mrs. O’Reilly?” Three honeymoon weeks in Rhodes had given them both healthy glows and brightened the silver streaks in the raven hair of Caitlin “Kitty” O’Reilly née O’Hallorhan.
“It feels very good to be home, Fingal, and in what’s now my home, too,” she said, stretching out a hand and covering his.
“And it does be good to have you both back, so.” Mrs. Maureen “Kinky” Kincaid came in bringing a tray with two plates, each bearing a full Irish breakfast. She set one in front of Kitty. “Now eat up however little much is in it, Miss—” She frowned.
Oh-oh, Fingal thought, Kinky’s having difficulty working out the proper form of address between the housekeeper and the mistress of the house. “Miss Kitty” had been fine before the wedding. “Mrs. O’Reilly” would be too formal. “Mrs. Kitty” sounded odd. He waited, a tiny smile playing on his lips.
“Kinky,” Kitty said, “plain Kitty’s fine. Aren’t we friends?”
“We are, so.” Kinky’s two chins wobbled as she chuckled and said, “Indeed we are so, Kitty, bye. And there’s your breakfast, sir. I’ve done the rashers crisp, the way you like them.”
The telephone in the hall began its double-ringing clamour. “I’ll see who that is,” she said.
“That was gracious, Kitty,” O’Reilly said, feeling his mouth water, “and it’s a great relief to me that you and Kinky are getting on so well now.” He stabbed a ring of black pudding, sliced it, and shoved half into his mouth. Greek grub had been all right, but it was great to get back to Kinky’s proper Irish cooking. He was, as she often remarked, “a grand man for the pan.”
“We’d better,” Kitty said, and smiled. “It’ll be a whole new experience for you, having three women in the house and no fun at all if two of them are at loggerheads.”
“True enough.” Young Barry Laverty, who had been O’Reilly’s assistant until recently, had gone to Ballymena for training in obstetrics and gynaecology. His place as temporary assistant had been taken by one Doctor Jennifer Bradley, who was out on a maternity case this Saturday morning. “At least,” he said, “having Jenny living and working here lets me have some weekends off. After breakfast, let’s pop in and see Donal and Julie Donnelly and the new chissler. Kinky tells me the wee lass arrived three days after we left, so her birthday’s July 6.”
“I’ll put that in my diary when we’ve finished breakfast—”
“Sir.” Kinky stood in the doorway. The colour had left her cheeks. “It’s the marquis. His sister, Lady MacNeill, has had a riding accident.”
Fingal ran to the phone, bolting the black pudding as he did. Young ones being born, middle-aged ones falling off their bloody horses. The daily round of the country G.P., a job he’d loved for more than twenty years. And he was duty bound to answer this call even if it was his weekend off. He grabbed the receiver. “John? What’s up?”
He listened as John MacNeill, marquis of Ballybucklebo, explained how his sister had been thrown when her gelding, Bramble, balked at a jump. “You reckon her leg’s bust? I see. Is she conscious? Good. No trouble breathing? Good. John, don’t try to move her. Keep her warm, don’t give her anything to eat or drink, and I’ll be right out.” He slammed the receiver into its cradle. “Kinky, get an ambulance out to Ballybucklebo House.” He stuck his head into the dining room. “Kitty, the marquis’s sister has been hurt. I’m heading straight out there. Shouldn’t be too long.”