Home Is The Sailor by Home Is the Sailor (epub)

Author:Home Is the Sailor (epub)
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin’s Press

5

Have You No Bowel, No Tenderness?

O’Reilly pushed away his plate, empty save for a squeezed lemon slice. Not long before a pair of famous Craster kippers had lain, blissfully brown and seductively, steamingly scented. Utterly delicious. While drinking his second cup of tea, he finished reading a story in Tuesday’s The Northern Whig. It seemed that fifteen alleged Soviet spies had been arrested in Canada. He wondered what they’d be spying on in that far cold country, tutted, put down the paper, rose, and crossed to the surgery.

He opened his doctor’s bag, went to a cupboard, took out an ampoule of aminophylline, and put it into the bag to replace the one he’d used yesterday for a seven-year-old boy who was having a severe asthmatic attack. That home visit and a case of influenza had been the sum of the day’s caseload. What had Lars said? “Don’t be surprised if it’s slow at the beginning.” Slow? Glaciers moved more quickly. Still, O’Reilly thought, Declan Finnegan and his French wife were coming today. He headed for the surgery.

Declan and a petite but obviously swollen-bellied woman with glossy brown hair sat side by side. And across the room, perched like a gargoyle on a cathedral on one of the hard-backed chairs, was Albert Bishop. Before O’Reilly could even say good morning and invite them to come to his surgery, the man announced, “The Finnegans don’t mind if I go first, O’Reilly.” As Bishop strode past the couple, Declan raised his eyes to heaven and shook his head.

O’Reilly was sure Bishop had bullied his way past the Finnegans, but did not want to make a fuss about it—yet. He followed him along to the surgery, where Bishop had already seated himself. O’Reilly closed the door. “Good morning, Mister Bishop. I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” To tell the truth I was not expecting to see you ever after last night, O’Reilly thought, as he took the swivel chair. This was something he’d learned from Doctor Corrigan, his senior in general practice in Dublin. That not every patient and their doctor would get along. Sometimes it was better to come to the parting of the ways and have them seek medical advice elsewhere. He recognised that may have been at the back of his mind when he’d deliberately embarrassed Bishop last night.

“Aye, nor me you, but I’ve still not gone since I tried to have a wee quiet word with you. I’ve been seeing a Doctor Robbins in Bangor, but it’s far too far to drive just because I’m bound. My missus, Flo, says she til me, she says, ‘Go on, give O’Reilly a try.’ I says til her that I tried to tell you on Monday night that I needed a strong laxative, but, no, you were too high and mighty to do me a favour, so you were. Sometimes my Flo does talk sense, but. Says she til me, ‘O’Reilly worked here before. He never killed nobody then.’ ”

Now there was a backhanded compliment.

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