An Irish Country Love Story
“a man shouted from, it seemed, somewhere in outer space. Barry crawled up from the depths of slumber. After delivering Emer O’Loughlin’s second baby, a girl, he’d tumbled into his bed at five thirty this morning and had been glad to be off duty after nine o’clock so he could sleep on. He was barely aware of the door to his quarters opening and Kinky standing in the doorway.
“Please, sir, wake up,” she said.
Barry forced his eyes open fully and sat up. He was fully compos mentis now. He fisted h...is eyes. “What time is it?”
“Eleven thirty, but we need you at once, so. Willie Dunleavy says Doctor Stevenson’s taking a fit or something.”
“What? Where is she?”
“In the surgery. Please come, sir.” Kinky stood wringing her hands.
Many years of learning to respond at once had Barry leaping out of bed, grabbing and donning a plaid dressing gown over his pyjamas, struggling into carpet slippers, and regardless of his appearance—his hair must look like a ruined haystack—heading into the kitchen where big, round Willie Dunleavy was shifting from foot to foot.MoreLess
“Please, sir, wake up,” she said.
Barry forced his eyes open fully and sat up. He was fully compos mentis now. He fisted h...is eyes. “What time is it?”
“Eleven thirty, but we need you at once, so. Willie Dunleavy says Doctor Stevenson’s taking a fit or something.”
“What? Where is she?”
“In the surgery. Please come, sir.” Kinky stood wringing her hands.
Many years of learning to respond at once had Barry leaping out of bed, grabbing and donning a plaid dressing gown over his pyjamas, struggling into carpet slippers, and regardless of his appearance—his hair must look like a ruined haystack—heading into the kitchen where big, round Willie Dunleavy was shifting from foot to foot.MoreLess
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