The Book of Hours Read Online Free

change.”
    â€œTommy’s no better, I’m afraid. The medicine hasn’t helped a bit.”
    Tommy Townsend was a four-year-old patient whose symptoms had baffled Cecilia for almost two months. And despite her best efforts and twice-weekly consultations, the child was not getting any better. Cecilia gave her head a vigorous scratch and felt her finger come away sticky. “You’d better bring him in again, then.”
    â€œI’ve already asked. All your appointments are taken today.”
    â€œI’ll make time. And I want Dr. Riles to have a look at him. Come in just before lunch. He’s doing minor ops until then.”
    â€œAll right.” Angeline’s voice held all the quiet desperation of a worried mother. “Did you get the lab results back?”
    â€œJust this morning.” Cecilia slit open the envelope, read the results, and sighed, “Inconclusive again, I’m afraid.” She hesitated, then added, “It might be a good idea to move Tommy into Reading.”
    Reading was the closest major city. And the nearest major hospital. Clearly the mother had been thinking the same thing, for all she said was, “I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
    Cecilia dropped into her seat, wishing she could dash back home for another shower and a nap. There was a knock on her door, and Maureen poked her head in. Cecilia told her, “It’s not even nine o’clock, and I’m already exhausted.”
    But the clinic’s chief assistant was beaming. “I’ve got just the remedy for what ails you.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    The smile grew grander still. “You won’t believe who just sauntered in.”
    Cecilia started to snap that she was in no mood for guessing games, when it hit her. “You have got to be kidding me.”
    â€œSuffering from a tummy ache, he is. And wanting to see a doctor.”
    Cecilia leaned back in her seat, just as the day’s first ray of sunshine rose above the neighboring roofline and lanced through her window. “Well, for goodness’ sake, don’t keep the fellow waiting.”
    Maureen’s eyes glittered with the effort of holding in her laughter. “Somehow I thought you’d be saying that.”
    The village clinic was housed two streets off the central market, in a stone cottage as old as the rest of Knightsbridge. Thankfully, the renovators had thought to lower the original floor, which meant Brian was able to stand upright and not strike his head on the ceiling beams. He stood by the central counter, filling out a sheaf of forms.
    At the point where he was asked to give his last address, he hesitated, then wrote out, “Central Hospital, Colombo, Sri Lanka.” A five-week stay seemed enough to qualify it as an abode. From the sound of things, it was several weeks longer than he would have here.
    The receptionist took the completed forms and gave him another queer look before directing him to take a seat. Brian crossed the broad plank flooring and sighed gratefully, seating himself on the wall bench. He took in the scene about him. The morning’s early gloom was gradually burning off. Sunlight fell through the lead-paned windows to cast people and chamber alike in tones of ruddy gold. Everyone seemed to know one another and their complaints. The talk was easy and low, the comforting sound of folks who had lived in one another’s pockets for so long they knew what would be said long before mouths opened. Glances were tossed his way, which only seemed to echo the refrain running through his brain. He did not belong here, and never would. That was scarcely tragic, seeing as how the matter had already been taken from his hands.
    Six hundred and thirty thousand pounds, the realtor had said. One million, one hundred thousand dollars. Brian leaned back in his seat. The bench was high-backed, extremely uncomfortable, but he had sat on far worse. Nothing