The Misremembered Man Read Online Free Page B

trust?”
    “Yes, doctor.”
    “Helping, is it?”
    “Helpin’ a bit, doctor.” Jamie consulted the floor, at once sad. “But they’ll not bring Mick back.”
    The doctor, sensitive to the sudden mood shift, stopped writing and laid down the pen. “I know, James. It must be very difficult without your uncle,” he said gently. “But y’know, time’s a great healer. The medication will help you. How long’s it been now?”
    “Ten months, two weeks and five days, doctor. God I never thought he’d die. That mornin’ I found him dead, I wanted to die, too.” He began twisting his cap in his hands. “Still do sometimes.”
    “Come now, James, that’s no way to talk. It’s been hard for you, I know. But you’re a tough one and you’re making good progress.”
    “But I miss havin’ nobody to talk to, doctor. It’s just me and wee Shep…Mick was always there and we talked ’bout everything.”
    Dr. Brewster drew a handkerchief from his top pocket and began polishing his glasses slowly and ruminatively. “Hmm…that’s why I’m suggesting you take that little break by the seaside. It’ll take your mind off yourself and you never know who you might meet.” He returned the hankie and replaced his glasses. “Y’know, James, there are lots of people in your position, but especially women of your age, who’ve dedicated their lives to caring for parents only to discover that when they die they’ve no one to turn to. You’re only forty-one after all. A woman like that would be very glad to meet a man like you.”
    “God, d’you think so, doctor?” Jamie brightened slightly. “Y’know Paddy and Rose told me I should maybe try and meet someone, too. But I don’t know if any woman would look at the like-a me…a wouldn’t know what to say to them.”
    “D’you know, James, that fact alone would make you the ideal husband. There’s nothing a woman likes more than a silent man; most of them could talk for Ireland anyway, my wife included.”
    Dr. Brewster let out a laugh and Jamie smiled.
    “That’s the spirit, James. Now promise me you’ll have that break?”
    “I will indeed, doctor.”
    “Good man!” The doctor took up his pen again and continued to write. “Now, I’m prescribing painkillers. Two, last thing at night; should ease things in the morning.”
    He tore off the page and handed it over.
    “Me back’s not too serious then, doctor, is it?”
    “No, not serious. Gladys Millman. The Ocean Spray guesthouse.”
    “What?”
    “On the promenade. They say it’s hard to beat.”
    “Oh, I see. Thank you, doctor.”
    Jamie got up, grateful that the ordeal was over, and thankful that the doctor had not examined him or inquired about his fag and booze habits.
    “I’ll go now, doctor,” he said, relieved. “Ocean Spray, you say.”
    “That’s the spirit, James!” Dr. Brewster got up and ushered him to the door. “Now keep taking your medication. It’ll stop you from brooding too much. It’s very important that you don’t come off them until I say so.” He patted his arm, “And after you take that break in Portaluce, call in and tell me all about it. Will you do that, James?”
    “I will indeed, doctor. Right ye be. Thank you, doctor. Cheerio now!”
     
     
    Lydia parked her Fiat 850 two-door car outside the Cut ’n Curl hair-dressing salon on Killoran’s high street, and helped her mother out of the passenger seat. This was a complicated business—the unfolding of Mrs. Devine—what with her rheumatism, arthritis, and general reluctance to being helped by anyone. A good five minutes was taken up, with Lydia grappling and the elderly woman resisting, before finally both stood upright, the car door was banged shut, and they made their way slowly and carefully into the salon.
    Susan, the young assistant, was immediately in attendance with her cheery greetings, eager to get Mrs. Devine out of her coat and her head into the washbasin as soon as possible. In Susan’s