Read Online An Irish Country Love Story by Patrick Taylor - Free Book Online

lounge.”
    â€œOh, all right.” Sonny shuffled along beside O’Reilly.
    When they arrived Maggie tutted and managed a smile. “There you are, you silly ould fool. You’ve had me worried sick. My heart’s been in my mouth, so it has.” She shoved a huge one-eared, one-eyed ginger cat off an armchair. “And you, General Sir Bernard Law Montgomery, get away to hell out of that and let your betters sit down.”
    The scowl vanished and Sonny hung his head. “I’m sorry, dear, but I don’t know what all the fuss is about.” He inhaled. “It’s just a touch of the collywobbles and I do not wish to be poked and prodded—” He stopped and gasped.
    O’Reilly said, “I’ve brought young Doctor Laverty with me. He’s going to look after your case.” He nodded a go-ahead at Barry.
    â€œHello, Sonny,” Barry said. “Not feeling so hot? Doctor O’Reilly tells me that among other things you get short of breath.”
    Sonny nodded. “I’d like,” he said and pulled in a shallow breath, “I’d like to sit down.”
    Barry stepped forward, took him by the elbow, and helped the man into the armchair recently vacated by General Sir Bernard Law Montgomery.
    â€œThank you,” he said, plucking a tuft of cat hair from the chair and turning a slightly accusing eye on Maggie.
    â€œI’m sure youse doctors would like peace and quiet til look him over, so you will. Now, you do as you’re bid, Sonny Houston. I’ll go and get my hat and coat off, and I’ll put on the kettle and cut a few slices of my plum cake.”
    O’Reilly’s heart sank at the prospect of having to face Maggie’s overstewed tea. He had once described it as being fit only for stripping paint off a destroyer, and her cake as tough enough to patch a shell hole in the same ship.
    â€œNow, Sonny,” O’Reilly and Barry said in unison.
    â€œI have agreed to be examined, Doctors, and you have told me that Doctor Laverty has that privilege. Very well, Doctor. I’ll submit to your ministrations.”
    â€œFair enough,” said O’Reilly, sitting in another armchair. “I’m just going to sit here, both legs the same length.” He hoped Barry’d not be blinded by Sonny’s mild heart failure. While it certainly caused shortness of breath, so did other things.
    Barry draped his overcoat on a chair, set his bag on the floor, and took out his stethoscope. “This won’t take long, Sonny,” Barry said, picking up the man’s wrist. O’Reilly watched his partner’s head nodding as he counted the heartbeats. “Your pulse is nice and regular and running at ninety beats per minute.”
    All right. A bit fast, and compatible with heart failure—or a host of other things.
    â€œLook up,” Barry asked, and pulled down Sonny’s lower eyelid.
    O’Reilly could see that it was pale pink when it should have been scarlet because of the blood cells in the capillaries that lay just beneath the conjunctiva, the transparent membrane lining the eyelid and covering the eyeball. That was a sure sign of anaemia, the marker of a family of blood diseases often overlooked by the sufferer until it became severe. Then other people began to notice how weak, breathless, short-tempered, and forgetful their loved one had become. O’Reilly thought back to his own father’s blood disorder in 1936.
    â€œStick out your tongue, please.”
    It looked smooth and red raw. Oh-ho. This was beginning to add up. There were few causes of that sign.
    O’Reilly waited as Barry quickly completed his examination, stuffed his stethoscope into his jacket pocket, and began explaining his findings to his patient. “I think I’ve a pretty good idea of what your trouble is, Sonny, and it’s not your ticker. Your lung bases were clear, your heart rate’s not irregular, blood