An Irish Country Wedding Read Online Free Page B

worry about you, sir, and himself. What will you both eat, at all?’ I told her she mustn’t worry, we’d manage, and she grabbed my hand and said, ‘There does be a steak-and-kidney pie in the fridge. Pop it in a medium oven and leave it for twenty-five minutes. It’ll do for your tea tonight, but you’ll have to do without the potatoes.’” Barry shook his head. “She’d dropped the pan and was still upset.”
    O’Reilly smiled. “Bless her. If she’d been on the Titanic she’d have been fussing about other folks before she’d get into a lifeboat.”
    “I know,” Barry said. “Kinky Kinkaid’s a remarkable woman.”
    “She’s that, all right. She’s been mothering me for nineteen years, since 1946 when I bought the practice from old Doctor Flanagan’s estate. Begod, I’d hate to lose her.”
    “Lose her?” Barry shook his head. “She’s pretty sick now, Fingal, but if it is a strangulated hernia, once she’s been operated on, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
    “Oh, no, I don’t mean ‘lose her’ in that sense,” O’Reilly said. “It’s just that   … you know I’m marrying Kitty in July and — ”
    “I know. I’m delighted for you both, Fingal. And I’m sure Kinky is too.”
    “Well, I thought Kinky was pretty chuffed. And she seemed genuinely excited about us buying the ring today. There was that bit of friction between them when Kitty first started coming down here — ”
    “But Kinky seemed happy for you both on Saturday. I’m sure she’s over whatever bothered her. And one thing about being sick, it has a way of putting things into perspective very quickly.”
    “You’re likely right.” O’Reilly puffed his pipe. “But I remember an old saw about two women in one kitchen. Kinky’s going to be a bit wobbly before she gets completely better and she may start to feel vulnerable again.”
    “I’m sure everything’ll be fine,” Barry said. “First we’ve to worry about getting Kinky back on her feet, and cross other bridges when we come to them.”
    O’Reilly raised an eyebrow. “Bridges? That’s my line. Getting philosophical, Barry?”
    “Well, I — ”
    “You’re right,” said O’Reilly. “When we come to them.” He let go a blue cloud of pipe smoke. “There are a few practical matters which are more pressing though.”
    “Such as?”
    “One. Once Kinky gets better and out of hospital she’ll need to convalesce. Are you much of a nurse?”
    “Me?”
    “Nor me,” O’Reilly said. “We’ll have to let her sisters Fidelma and Sinead in Cork know about things as soon as we hear from Jack. They’ll want to come up and see her, and when she’s discharged they might want to have Kinky recuperate with them.”
    “That makes sense.”
    O’Reilly tamped the tobacco into the bowl of his pipe. “If not, we’ll need to find someone here. Sonny and Maggie Houston have a big house and Maggie loves looking after folks.”
    Barry smiled. “If Kinky could put up with Maggie’s stewed tea.”
    O’Reilly laughed. “Or her plum cake, but let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
    “Agreed.”
    “Number two,” said O’Reilly. “How’s your cooking? The magical thing Kinky usually does in the kitchen.”
    Barry laughed. “I lived at home, then went to a boarding school, student residence’s refectory, houseman’s mess, and now Number One, Main. I never learned how. I’d burn water boiling an egg.” Nor, he thought, had boys been expected to master the culinary arts. That’s why only girls were taught “domestic science” at school. “Jack Mills showed me how to make a fried egg sandwich once when we were living in Royal Maternity if that helps.”
    “Hardly Cordon Bleu.” O’Reilly smiled. “I learnt a bit when I was at sea, but it’s pretty primitive. Spam fritters, corned beef hash, corned beef curry. I can fry up well enough and I can boil and mash, and fry potatoes. Make champ.” He poked his pipe stem at Barry. “I thought being