A Dublin Student Doctor by Patrick Taylor

Author:Patrick Taylor
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates
Published: 2011-12-27T12:34:52+00:00

26

The Stag at Eve Had Drunk His Fill

Fingal loosened his collar. The tram was crowded, hot, and humid. He got off in Phoenix Park near the Wellington Monument, a massive obelisk on a square plinth. It had been erected two years after the Battle of Waterloo as a tribute to the Duke of Wellington, who had been born Arthur Wellesley in 24 Baggot Street Lower. Of Anglo-Irish stock, when accused of being Irish, the Iron Duke had icily replied, “Being born in a stable does not make one a horse.”

Fingal spotted Kitty sitting on the steps at the monument’s base. She was waving at him, hatless, and ignoring the fashion dictate that young ladies should wear gloves.

She hugged him. “Fingal.” She held him at arm’s length. “It’s been forever.”

“It has.” He’d seen her only three times since her restriction to the Home had finished at the end of March and here it was, the first week in June. “But I don’t see what else we could do. We can’t meet on the ward. You’ve been in paediatrics, I’ve been in psychiatry. And the work’s been heavy.”

“At least now that my first year’s over, I’m out of that Nurses’ Home and sharing a flat with Virginia. That should make things easier.”

“After Finals Part One,” he said.

“Of course, after Part One. I know it’s important.” He felt her against him, firm and warm, and he inhaled her gentle musk. The perfume was mingled with a hint of fresh perspiration. He found the combination arousing. He gave her cheek a quick peck. The Phoenix was crowded and modesty forbade public displays of affection.

“Come on,” he said, taking her hand. “Let’s walk up as far as the zoo, across to Ashtown Castle, then head down Chesterfield Avenue to the tram stop.” It was great just to hold her hand. He’d missed her company sorely. Fingal, content to be with her, felt no need to make conversation as they strolled. He wanted to put away his concerns for Father and bask in the company of the young woman who for him was living proof that, as he had once told her, absence did make the heart grow fonder. He hoped Kitty was enjoying the afternoon sunshine as much as he, the springiness of the grass underfoot.

The sticky buds of horse chestnuts had long since burst to free the multifingered leaves. Under the trees a mosaic of emerald brightness and bottle-green shade dappled the lawn where sparrows hopped and starlings strutted. Phoenix Park on the north side of the River Liffey was a rustic refuge in the gritty, workaday capital city.

Horse-drawn open carriages carrying top-hatted gentlemen and ladies sheltering under lacy parasols and wide-brimmed hats rolled through the park. The air was filled with the clop of hooves, the clatter of motorcar engines, the high-pitched squeals of children, and, from the zoo, the piercing cry of a peacock.

“Where are we going tonight?” she asked.

“The Stag’s Head.”

“Stag’s Head,” she said. “Where’s that?”

“On a street off O’Connell Street. We’re meeting Cromie and Virginia.

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