is still a midden. I’m not sorry to be living in the Nurses’ Home. They do let us out now and then and Dublin’s quite the city.”
“It is that. Here.” He handed her the newly washed dentures. “Off you go.”
Kitty. Kitty O’Hallorhan. That name had a ring to it, she could laugh at herself, and, those eyes. Fingal O’Reilly smiled. When she came back he was going to ask her for a date. He sang the old Irish air in a tuneful baritone,
Kitty, me love will you marry me?
Kitty, me love will you go?
“I heard that,” she said. “You’ve a fine voice, Mister O’Reilly—and a quare brass neck. Marry a big lig like you?” She chuckled. “Not in a month of Sundays.”
“Well,” said O’Reilly, quite unabashed, “maybe it is a bit quick for a proposal—”
“Wash these,” she said, handing him three sets.
He bent to his task. “But I could take you to the Savoy on Saturday night. I Was a Spy is on. Conrad Veidt and Madeleine Carroll.”
“You’re not a shy one, are you?” she asked.
“But he’d better start being one on my ward, Nurse O’Hallorhan.”
Fingal looked round to see Sister Daly, brows knit, fists on hips. Her gaze was steely.
“I’ll not have any hanky-panky on Saint Patrick’s Ward—my ward. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sister,” they both said in unison.
“Good. Now get about your business, Mister O’Reilly, and leave Nurse to hers.”
“Yes, Sister,” Fingal said. Doctor Micks might be a consultant here, but the ruler of Saint Patrick’s Ward was Sister Daly. It was not a good idea to have rubbed her up the wrong way on his first day, and it was his fault that Kitty looked as if she was in for it. One of the things Father had always insisted on was, “If you make a mess, you clear it up.”
“Sister, I think you should know that this is all my fault. I thought Nurse O’Hallorhan was going to miss her lunch and so I offered to help her wash the dentures. She didn’t approach me.”
“Is that true, Nurse?”
Kitty nodded.
“And she’d no notion I was going to ask her out.”
“I see.” Sister Daly pursed her lips. “In that case, Nurse, I’ll consider the matter closed. Get on with your duty.”
“Thank you, Sister.” Kitty started scrubbing with the focused concentration of a watchmaker.
“And you.” She pointed a finger. “You can’t sit for your finals without a certificate of good standing from Doctor Micks, so. Do not in the next six months give me any cause to have a word in his ear, bye. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sister Daly. Perfectly. I’ll be going.” Fingal turned and left, not daring to take a backwards glance at Kitty. He could feel Sister Daly’s eyes on him.
He knew where the lads would be eating and decided he had time for a quick bite. Damn Sister catching him like that. He was bloody sure if he’d been given another few minutes with Nurse O’Hallorhan she’d have accepted his invitation. Och well, at least he knew her name. He’d find a way to have another go. And, he reminded himself, it was all very well paying attention to pretty nurses. The real reason he was here was to learn about patients like the anonymous Mister KD.
And as for Sister Daly? He’d be at pains to tiptoe round her and mind his p’s and q’s. Because nothing, nothing was going to stop him sitting, and passing, his finals on time.
10
For This Relief Much Thanks
“Me?” Fingal spun on his heel. “Christ Almighty, I’m only a fourth-year student.”
Nurse O’Hallorhan stood at the door to the ward. “Sister Daly says to come immediately. We’ve sent for Doctor Pilkington, but he’s gone to lunch. The patient with valvular heart failure fainted. He looks awful.” Fingal heard the tremor in her voice. “Sister wants to see if there’s anything you can do until Doctor Pilkington gets back.”
“What I can do?” Jesus. Fingal trotted to the ward, trying to remember what he’d learned about rheumatic heart disease. Mister KD had passed
“It is that. Here.” He handed her the newly washed dentures. “Off you go.”
Kitty. Kitty O’Hallorhan. That name had a ring to it, she could laugh at herself, and, those eyes. Fingal O’Reilly smiled. When she came back he was going to ask her for a date. He sang the old Irish air in a tuneful baritone,
Kitty, me love will you marry me?
Kitty, me love will you go?
“I heard that,” she said. “You’ve a fine voice, Mister O’Reilly—and a quare brass neck. Marry a big lig like you?” She chuckled. “Not in a month of Sundays.”
“Well,” said O’Reilly, quite unabashed, “maybe it is a bit quick for a proposal—”
“Wash these,” she said, handing him three sets.
He bent to his task. “But I could take you to the Savoy on Saturday night. I Was a Spy is on. Conrad Veidt and Madeleine Carroll.”
“You’re not a shy one, are you?” she asked.
“But he’d better start being one on my ward, Nurse O’Hallorhan.”
Fingal looked round to see Sister Daly, brows knit, fists on hips. Her gaze was steely.
“I’ll not have any hanky-panky on Saint Patrick’s Ward—my ward. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Sister,” they both said in unison.
“Good. Now get about your business, Mister O’Reilly, and leave Nurse to hers.”
“Yes, Sister,” Fingal said. Doctor Micks might be a consultant here, but the ruler of Saint Patrick’s Ward was Sister Daly. It was not a good idea to have rubbed her up the wrong way on his first day, and it was his fault that Kitty looked as if she was in for it. One of the things Father had always insisted on was, “If you make a mess, you clear it up.”
“Sister, I think you should know that this is all my fault. I thought Nurse O’Hallorhan was going to miss her lunch and so I offered to help her wash the dentures. She didn’t approach me.”
“Is that true, Nurse?”
Kitty nodded.
“And she’d no notion I was going to ask her out.”
“I see.” Sister Daly pursed her lips. “In that case, Nurse, I’ll consider the matter closed. Get on with your duty.”
“Thank you, Sister.” Kitty started scrubbing with the focused concentration of a watchmaker.
“And you.” She pointed a finger. “You can’t sit for your finals without a certificate of good standing from Doctor Micks, so. Do not in the next six months give me any cause to have a word in his ear, bye. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sister Daly. Perfectly. I’ll be going.” Fingal turned and left, not daring to take a backwards glance at Kitty. He could feel Sister Daly’s eyes on him.
He knew where the lads would be eating and decided he had time for a quick bite. Damn Sister catching him like that. He was bloody sure if he’d been given another few minutes with Nurse O’Hallorhan she’d have accepted his invitation. Och well, at least he knew her name. He’d find a way to have another go. And, he reminded himself, it was all very well paying attention to pretty nurses. The real reason he was here was to learn about patients like the anonymous Mister KD.
And as for Sister Daly? He’d be at pains to tiptoe round her and mind his p’s and q’s. Because nothing, nothing was going to stop him sitting, and passing, his finals on time.
10
For This Relief Much Thanks
“Me?” Fingal spun on his heel. “Christ Almighty, I’m only a fourth-year student.”
Nurse O’Hallorhan stood at the door to the ward. “Sister Daly says to come immediately. We’ve sent for Doctor Pilkington, but he’s gone to lunch. The patient with valvular heart failure fainted. He looks awful.” Fingal heard the tremor in her voice. “Sister wants to see if there’s anything you can do until Doctor Pilkington gets back.”
“What I can do?” Jesus. Fingal trotted to the ward, trying to remember what he’d learned about rheumatic heart disease. Mister KD had passed
Similar Books
