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

Maggie. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
    â€œIt was called pernicious in 1800-and-something when it was first described,” Barry said. “Now, don’t be scared when I tell you that back then doctors could make the diagnosis but had no idea how to treat it. The patients died, I’m afraid.”
    â€œBoys-a-dear.” Maggie jammed a fist against her lips and stared at Sonny.
    Barry hurried to add, “But in 1920, doctors found a cure.” He decided against telling Maggie and Sonny that before vitamin B12 had been identified and synthesised in the 1950s, the cure had been to eat raw liver every day.
    â€œHallelloolyah, that’s a relief,” she said, clearly reassured.
    O’Reilly chuckled at the Ulster pronunciation with the extra “lool” syllable.
    â€œThank you, Doctor,” Sonny said. “I am reassured by your findings, and—” He hesitated. “I’m sorry, Maggie, for yelling at you, and you doctors for my being bloody-minded. I don’t know what came over me.”
    O’Reilly was relieved they did not have to consider dementia any longer. “No need. Being grumpy’s caused by the disease too.”
    Maggie, who must have popped in her false teeth when she was in the kitchen, grinned so widely her hooked nose almost met her chin. “There, you ould goat,” she said. “You’re forgiven for barging at me, going up one side and down the other this morning, and you and your ‘I don’t want no doctors.’ Buck eejit.” But she bent and kissed him—and the room was filled with forgiveness and love.
    She pointed to the tray. “Now, sirs, tea and cake.”
    â€œThat would be really lovely, Maggie,” O’Reilly said, “but the snow is still falling thick and fast out there and we must get back to Number One.”
    Barry picked up his coat and bag. “The ambulance will be here for you tomorrow and I’ll call round to give you the results next week.” He followed O’Reilly, who was making for the door. “We’ll see ourselves out,” O’Reilly said as he hauled on his boots. He was proud of Barry for having worked out a difficult clinical problem, and nearly as proud of himself for gracefully avoiding Maggie’s tea and cake.
    On the way to the car through the continuing blizzard, O’Reilly said, “It’s downhill on the way home. I’ll drive.” He got in. “Well done, Barry,” he said, manoeuvering the big car away from the kerb. “I was getting worried. It was looking like Sonny might have a blood disorder. I have very personal reasons for fearing them. My father died of leukaemia in 1936. But pernicious anaemia is much less serious.”
    â€œI’m sorry, Fingal. He must have been still a relatively young man.”
    â€œOch,” said O’Reilly, heading for the Bangor to Belfast Road, “he was. Only fifty-eight, same age I am now. That was thirty-one years ago, but it was hard at the time. Particularly on my mother. Do you think there’s a chance Sonny might—?”
    â€œHave a leukaemia? The blood tests’ll give us a better notion, but I hope not.”
    â€œTime will tell,” O’Reilly said, slowing behind a lorry spreading sand and salt on the road, “but for now let’s get back home.” The prospect of a warm fire in the lounge and one of Kinky’s hot lunches in the dining room filled his heart with gratitude for Number One Main. “I wonder,” he said, “if Sonny’s Jasper has found his way home yet?”

 
    6
    Pregnancy Humbles Husbands
    Someone was knocking on the door of Barry’s quarters. He looked up from where he sat at a small inlaid walnut table under an Anglepoise lamp. He was assembling the mainmast on his model of HMS Rattlesnake and would be until it was time to accept Fingal’s earlier invitation to go upstairs for a