Number One before you and Doctor Laverty starve or run out of clean socks.”
“Kinky Kincaid,” O’Reilly said, “Sir Donald’s idea of ‘no time’ doesn’t mean in a day or two.” O’Reilly didn’t want to discourage her, but he didn’t want her to have unrealistic expectations. “You were a very sick woman last night. You’ve had surgery. That knocks the stuffing out of anybody. It’ll be a week before you’re even out of here. And if you’re worried about our socks, there’s always Lilliput Laundry. They pick up and deliver.”
“But,” she said, struggling to sit straight up, “what’ll you eat?”
“Not our socks, anyway,” he said, and was pleased to see a smile return. “You lie still now.” He laid a hand gently on her shoulder.
She sank back on her pillow, closed her eyes, and gasped.
O’Reilly waited until she looked at him again, then said, “We’re managing fine. That steak and kidney last night? Delicious.” Liar, he thought, but in a good cause. “And you know what Ballybucklebo’s like. You’d need to beat our neighbours off with a big stick.” He saw her relax and wondered if he could make her smile again. “I know what hospital grub’s like. You’re not allowed to eat yet, I understand, but when you are, I’ve two slices of Mag gie MacCorkle’s plum cake I could bring up.” He heard a faint chuckle.
“Doctor O’Reilly, sir,” she said with a little grin, “you do be a terrible one for taking a hand out of a poor Cork widow woman.”
O’Reilly noticed that the toy hare Barry had mentioned was on the pillow beside her. “Doctor Laverty sends his love, says please get better soon.”
“He’s a nice young man.”
“He is that,” O’Reilly said, then, “I spoke to your sister Fidelma last night and Sinead was there too. She and Malachy send love. Fidelma said to tell you she’s getting Eamon to drive her up.”
“Thank you for letting them know. I’ve not seen them for a while.” She frowned. “It’s a brave stretch of the legs from Beal na mBláth.”
O’Reilly laughed. “Your sister said you’d say that and to tell you to pay no heed. They’re coming and that’s that.”
“Fidelma and me were always close.”
“I think,” said O’Reilly, “they’ve a half-notion to take you down to Cork to convalesce.” He knew that six weeks was the generally recommended term, but he’d keep that to himself for now. “Let’s see how you are next week, all right?”
She struggled forward. “But, sir, who’ll look after Number One?” He heard her anxiety.
“Kinky Kincaid,” he said firmly. “You will, but only when you’re on your feet. In the meantime, Barry and I can manage and I’ve already told you about the neighbours. We’re coming down with pies, stews, roast chickens.”
She lay back on her pillows. “I suppose.”
“And I’m sure Kitty — ”
“Miss O’Hallorhan?” She frowned. “In my kitchen?”
“Not at all.” O’Reilly had been going to say, “will help.” As tactful as a blow to the head with a ball-peen hammer, he thought, and instead said, “will be distressed to hear you’re not well. I’ll tell her when I see her.” He rose and squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Now Kinky,” he said, “I mustn’t tire you out. You need your rest.”
“Thank you for coming, sir, and please thank Doctor Laverty for seeing to me yesterday,” she said. “Please look after yourself. All I’ve got here in the north is yourself and Number One.” A tear trickled.
“We’ll have you back there in no time,” O’Reilly managed, but only just. His throat was tight.
Kinky lay back on her pillows and closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed and in moments she was snoring gently.
Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly bent and gently kissed her forehead. “Sleep well, Kinky Kincaid,” he said. “Sleep well.”
7
I Am Getting Better and Better
“Have you come to see Donal?” Sister Jane Hoey was sitting by
“Kinky Kincaid,” O’Reilly said, “Sir Donald’s idea of ‘no time’ doesn’t mean in a day or two.” O’Reilly didn’t want to discourage her, but he didn’t want her to have unrealistic expectations. “You were a very sick woman last night. You’ve had surgery. That knocks the stuffing out of anybody. It’ll be a week before you’re even out of here. And if you’re worried about our socks, there’s always Lilliput Laundry. They pick up and deliver.”
“But,” she said, struggling to sit straight up, “what’ll you eat?”
“Not our socks, anyway,” he said, and was pleased to see a smile return. “You lie still now.” He laid a hand gently on her shoulder.
She sank back on her pillow, closed her eyes, and gasped.
O’Reilly waited until she looked at him again, then said, “We’re managing fine. That steak and kidney last night? Delicious.” Liar, he thought, but in a good cause. “And you know what Ballybucklebo’s like. You’d need to beat our neighbours off with a big stick.” He saw her relax and wondered if he could make her smile again. “I know what hospital grub’s like. You’re not allowed to eat yet, I understand, but when you are, I’ve two slices of Mag gie MacCorkle’s plum cake I could bring up.” He heard a faint chuckle.
“Doctor O’Reilly, sir,” she said with a little grin, “you do be a terrible one for taking a hand out of a poor Cork widow woman.”
O’Reilly noticed that the toy hare Barry had mentioned was on the pillow beside her. “Doctor Laverty sends his love, says please get better soon.”
“He’s a nice young man.”
“He is that,” O’Reilly said, then, “I spoke to your sister Fidelma last night and Sinead was there too. She and Malachy send love. Fidelma said to tell you she’s getting Eamon to drive her up.”
“Thank you for letting them know. I’ve not seen them for a while.” She frowned. “It’s a brave stretch of the legs from Beal na mBláth.”
O’Reilly laughed. “Your sister said you’d say that and to tell you to pay no heed. They’re coming and that’s that.”
“Fidelma and me were always close.”
“I think,” said O’Reilly, “they’ve a half-notion to take you down to Cork to convalesce.” He knew that six weeks was the generally recommended term, but he’d keep that to himself for now. “Let’s see how you are next week, all right?”
She struggled forward. “But, sir, who’ll look after Number One?” He heard her anxiety.
“Kinky Kincaid,” he said firmly. “You will, but only when you’re on your feet. In the meantime, Barry and I can manage and I’ve already told you about the neighbours. We’re coming down with pies, stews, roast chickens.”
She lay back on her pillows. “I suppose.”
“And I’m sure Kitty — ”
“Miss O’Hallorhan?” She frowned. “In my kitchen?”
“Not at all.” O’Reilly had been going to say, “will help.” As tactful as a blow to the head with a ball-peen hammer, he thought, and instead said, “will be distressed to hear you’re not well. I’ll tell her when I see her.” He rose and squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Now Kinky,” he said, “I mustn’t tire you out. You need your rest.”
“Thank you for coming, sir, and please thank Doctor Laverty for seeing to me yesterday,” she said. “Please look after yourself. All I’ve got here in the north is yourself and Number One.” A tear trickled.
“We’ll have you back there in no time,” O’Reilly managed, but only just. His throat was tight.
Kinky lay back on her pillows and closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed and in moments she was snoring gently.
Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly bent and gently kissed her forehead. “Sleep well, Kinky Kincaid,” he said. “Sleep well.”
7
I Am Getting Better and Better
“Have you come to see Donal?” Sister Jane Hoey was sitting by
Similar Books
