Read Online An Irish Country Wedding by Patrick Taylor - Free Book Online
Authors: Patrick Taylor
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herself at the Ward 21 desk in Quinn House, the neurosurgery unit of the Royal Victoria Hospital. The normally serious nurse smiled.
It was unusual for nurses to refer to patients by their first names. Donal Donnelly must have made an impression. “Please,” O’Reilly said.
“Quite the character.”
“I do know. What’s he been up to?”
She laughed, and he could hear affection belying her words. “The sooner we get that buck eejit off my ward the better. He’s been running a poker school, and making book on what time the tea trolley will get here.”
“He’s what?” O’Reilly couldn’t help laughing. “He’s incorrigible, that man. Still, it’s a sure sign he’s on the mend.”
“We moved him to a four-bedded ward on Monday morning. By Monday evening it was a miracle he didn’t have a roulette wheel working,” she said. “Make sure you keep an eye on your wallet when you see him, Doctor O’Reilly. At least he’s being discharged tomorrow.”
Still chuckling, O’Reilly walked along the corridor of the octagonal building. Donal had been moved from a single room in the inner core, where the critically ill patients were nursed, to one on the outer side of the corridor, which meant he was getting better. Two of the other recovering patients in Donal’s ward were playing cards at a table in the space between the beds. The third was in bed, snoring.
Donal, head swathed in a turban of white bandages, sat on a chair by his bed reading a tattered copy of Reader’s Digest . A vase of wilted flowers kept a bunch of grapes and bottle of Lucozade company on a bedside locker. His bed was close to a window that gave a view across a lawn to the red-brick Royal Maternity Hospital.
Donal looked up and grinned. “How’s about ye, Doc?” Donal’s buck teeth had survived the fall intact.
“I’m fine, Donal. How are you?”
“I’m keeping rightly, so I am. Dead on. The ould dome still hurts,” he pointed to his bandages, “but, och, I never worry.” He indicated another chair. “Grab a pew, sir. Right decent of youse to come and see me, and that lady friend of yours, Sister O’Hallorhan? She’s been a real corker. The way she looks after me is great, so it is.”
O’Reilly was not surprised that Donal thought Kitty O’Hallorhan, whom he had met several times in Ballybucklebo, was outstanding. She was. And of course she’d give Donal a bit of extra TLC because he was Fingal’s patient. He sat. “I’ll tell her you said so next time I see her.”
“Thanks, sir. I’m getting out the morrow,” Donal said. “Julie’s coming at ten for til take me home.” He took a deep breath. “One of the nurses told her you saved my life. I’m very grate — ”
“Wheest, Donal. All I did was get you into an ambulance.”
“From what I hear, I’ve been one jammy bugger.”
“You’d some luck, I grant you, but it’s Mister Greer and Mister Gupta, the doctor who saw you first when you were admitted, you need to thank.”
“No harm til youse, sir, but you’re a hard man to thank, so you are.”
O’Reilly made a guttural noise. “Bollix,” he said. He’d only done what any doctor should have. “You’ll be glad to get home,” he said, changing the subject.
Donal’s smile faded. “Huh. I’ll not be sorry for to see the back of this place, though. That Sister Hoey. See that one? See her?” Donal’s tone rose.
O’Reilly caught himself glancing in the direction of the door even though he knew that in Ulster, the expression didn’t actually mean you could see someone. Donal was using “see her” for emphasis, and none too kindly either.
“Right spoilsport, so she is. Them three lads?” Donal nodded at his wardmates. “We had a wee poker school going, but she stopped it. And she made me give them back their money on the book I was making on the tea trolley, so she did, before it got here.” He pouted. “I’d’ve made three pounds if she’d not interfered.”
“You’re no
It was unusual for nurses to refer to patients by their first names. Donal Donnelly must have made an impression. “Please,” O’Reilly said.
“Quite the character.”
“I do know. What’s he been up to?”
She laughed, and he could hear affection belying her words. “The sooner we get that buck eejit off my ward the better. He’s been running a poker school, and making book on what time the tea trolley will get here.”
“He’s what?” O’Reilly couldn’t help laughing. “He’s incorrigible, that man. Still, it’s a sure sign he’s on the mend.”
“We moved him to a four-bedded ward on Monday morning. By Monday evening it was a miracle he didn’t have a roulette wheel working,” she said. “Make sure you keep an eye on your wallet when you see him, Doctor O’Reilly. At least he’s being discharged tomorrow.”
Still chuckling, O’Reilly walked along the corridor of the octagonal building. Donal had been moved from a single room in the inner core, where the critically ill patients were nursed, to one on the outer side of the corridor, which meant he was getting better. Two of the other recovering patients in Donal’s ward were playing cards at a table in the space between the beds. The third was in bed, snoring.
Donal, head swathed in a turban of white bandages, sat on a chair by his bed reading a tattered copy of Reader’s Digest . A vase of wilted flowers kept a bunch of grapes and bottle of Lucozade company on a bedside locker. His bed was close to a window that gave a view across a lawn to the red-brick Royal Maternity Hospital.
Donal looked up and grinned. “How’s about ye, Doc?” Donal’s buck teeth had survived the fall intact.
“I’m fine, Donal. How are you?”
“I’m keeping rightly, so I am. Dead on. The ould dome still hurts,” he pointed to his bandages, “but, och, I never worry.” He indicated another chair. “Grab a pew, sir. Right decent of youse to come and see me, and that lady friend of yours, Sister O’Hallorhan? She’s been a real corker. The way she looks after me is great, so it is.”
O’Reilly was not surprised that Donal thought Kitty O’Hallorhan, whom he had met several times in Ballybucklebo, was outstanding. She was. And of course she’d give Donal a bit of extra TLC because he was Fingal’s patient. He sat. “I’ll tell her you said so next time I see her.”
“Thanks, sir. I’m getting out the morrow,” Donal said. “Julie’s coming at ten for til take me home.” He took a deep breath. “One of the nurses told her you saved my life. I’m very grate — ”
“Wheest, Donal. All I did was get you into an ambulance.”
“From what I hear, I’ve been one jammy bugger.”
“You’d some luck, I grant you, but it’s Mister Greer and Mister Gupta, the doctor who saw you first when you were admitted, you need to thank.”
“No harm til youse, sir, but you’re a hard man to thank, so you are.”
O’Reilly made a guttural noise. “Bollix,” he said. He’d only done what any doctor should have. “You’ll be glad to get home,” he said, changing the subject.
Donal’s smile faded. “Huh. I’ll not be sorry for to see the back of this place, though. That Sister Hoey. See that one? See her?” Donal’s tone rose.
O’Reilly caught himself glancing in the direction of the door even though he knew that in Ulster, the expression didn’t actually mean you could see someone. Donal was using “see her” for emphasis, and none too kindly either.
“Right spoilsport, so she is. Them three lads?” Donal nodded at his wardmates. “We had a wee poker school going, but she stopped it. And she made me give them back their money on the book I was making on the tea trolley, so she did, before it got here.” He pouted. “I’d’ve made three pounds if she’d not interfered.”
“You’re no
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