An Irish Country Wedding (40 page)

“About what?”

“That’s the second nonmedical problem you’ve fixed all by yourself since you came here. Saving Butch was the first.”

Barry mulled that over, then said, “Very good. So good in fact,” he held open the front door, “that when we get to the Duck, I’ll let you buy the first pint.”

42

Use the Gods’ Gifts Wisely

Barry rose when he saw who Kinky was ushering into the dining room. Jenny Bradley remained sitting.

“Doctor Bradley,” O’Reilly said, rising, “may I introduce you to Lord John MacNeill, marquis of Ballybucklebo?”

Jenny, blushing, scrambled to push back her chair and stand.

“Please, sit where you are, Doctor,” the marquis said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jenny subsided into her seat, bowed her head, and said, “My lord.”

“May I?” The marquis indicated the last vacant chair.

“Of course. Today’s the first of July. I take it you are going to give Helen the scholarship, John? I’ve been on eggs for the last three weeks.”

So had Barry, ever since O’Reilly had confided the news about Helen’s chances for the MacNeill Bursary and told Barry to keep it to himself. He said quietly to Jenny, “Doctor O’Reilly’s trying to get Helen a scholarship to study medicine.”

Jenny said, “Good for him. We need more women in the professions.”

“I came to put you out of your misery,” the marquis said. “I’m happy to interpret ‘By July the first’ as meaning past midnight of June the thirtieth, last night. You two medical men will attest that the candidate ‘is of sufficiently robust spirit’?”

“We can manage that, can’t we, Barry?” Fingal said, and grinned.

Barry laughed. “I don’t think the question, my lord, is can
Helen ‘stand the rigours of the aforesaid faculty.’ Can the faculty stand the rigours of having Helen. She is a very determined lady.”

“She’ll have to be,” Jenny said quietly.

“It’s hers,” the marquis said.

“You,” said O’Reilly, “the most honourable Lord John MacNeill, marquis of Ballybucklebo, are a gentleman and a scholar, and the more so for coming round in person to tell us.”

“Least I could do,” the marquis said. “Now do sit down and don’t let me interrupt your luncheon.”

Barry sat and watched as O’Reilly danced a little jig. He was beaming. “Thank you, John. Thank you so very much,” he said. “I’ll have Helen in in a minute. Let you tell her.” He sat. “In the meantime, would you like a cup of tea?”

“Thank you,” the marquis said. “I’ll help myself, and this, Fingal,” he handed O’Reilly a parcel wrapped in silver embossed paper, “is a little something for you and Kitty.”

“Thank you, John.” O’Reilly gave the package a playful shake, smiled, and then looked round.

Barry could tell his friend, for he no longer thought of Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly in any other way, was searching for somewhere to set the gift. Barry rose. “If you like, I’ll trot it upstairs.”

“Please do,” said O’Reilly, handing it over, “and while you’re at it, ask Helen to come here. And there’s a brown paper parcel in the bay of the right bow window. Bring it too like a good lad.”

Barry went into the upstairs lounge where Helen was dusting. “
Another
prezzy?” she said.

“Aye,” said Barry, and set it on the carpet beside the brown-paper-wrapped one he was to take to Fingal. “Doctor O’Reilly would like you to come downstairs for a minute, Helen. He’s got
something to tell you.” As Barry lifted the parcel he had to strug
gle to keep his face expressionless, his voice flat, but he didn’t want to spoil the surprise.

“Fair enough,” she said.

Barry followed her into the dining room.

Helen curtsied and said, “My lord.” She glanced at O’Reilly as if seeking reassurance.

O’Reilly said, “This is Helen Hewitt, sir.”

“I’m delighted to meet you, Helen,” the marquis said.

Barry could see that she was quite overawed.

“His lordship has something to tell you, Helen,” O’Reilly said. “Please come and sit here.” He indicated what had been Barry’s seat.

She sat as if the chair were made of delicate porcelain and not sturdy bog oak.

“Doctor O’Reilly has told me, Helen, that you have the necessary entrance requirements and you’d like to go to Queen’s medical school.”

Jenny Bradley whispered, “Good for you, Helen.”

Helen nodded and said, “Yes, sir. I would.”

“He also tells me, and please don’t be embarrassed, that money is holding you back. That’s a shame, but I can do something about it.”

Barry watched Helen’s smile flash and as quickly be replaced by a frown. She took a deep breath and brought both hands up to lie on the tablecloth, one clasping the other so tightly that her knuckles blanched. Dear God, she’s going to refuse, he thought. He knew how fiercely proud Helen was.

She said levelly, “That’s very generous of you, my lord, and no harm to you, and I don’t mean to be rude, but, aye, it is true we are short of cash.” Barry could understand how she must be struggling. Finally she said, “It is very kind, but I couldn’t accept your money, sir. My da would kill me if he thought I’d taken charity.”

O’Reilly started, “It’s not like
—
” but the marquis leant forward and put his hand over hers. “Helen,” he said, and he spoke to her as if there was no one else in the room, “I can understand how much you want to go. Your trying to refuse charity is one of the bravest things I’ve ever heard, but no one is offering you that.”

Her gaze never left his. “I
 
… I don’t understand.”

“I am able to award a MacNeill Bursary to qualified residents of County Down. You will receive sufficient money to pay your tuition and cover your living expenses. Here,” he offered her a buff envelope, “that’s the certificate of award.”

She frowned, drew back like a cat sensing danger. “So, it’s not you, personally, being generous, sir? I’ve heard of lordships doing kind things like that. It’s the estate, like?”

He chuckled. “I wish I was so rich. But you’re right, Helen, it is the estate,” the marquis said. “It is in what’s called ‘the gift’ of the head of the family. And that’s me. My great-great-grandfather, Richard O’Neill, set up the bursary in 1849, but in 1899, my great-grandfather, William MacNeill, changed it so it could be awarded to young women as well as young men. He was wounded during the seige of Sevastopol in the Crimean War and was extremely impressed by the work being done in the barracks hospital by Florence Nightingale and Mary Seacole. He thought they should be doctors.”

He advanced the envelope. “And so, in that fine tradition,
Helen, you have earned this by your own efforts, and your candidacy has been advanced by someone I trust. It is
not
charity.”

Barry looked at Fingal, who was studying his fingernails.

“Well done, Helen,” Jenny said quietly.

Helen screwed her eyes tight shut, blew out her breath, and opened her eyes. “I don’t believe it. Me?” She pointed at herself. “Wee Helen Hewitt from Ballybucklebo’s going to Queen’s for to study to be a doctor?” She grinned and accepted the envelope. “Dear God,” she said, “it’s a miracle, so it is.” She beamed at the marquis. “I never knew about a thing like this, and I never asked no one, so I didn’t.” She stared at the envelope. “Why me, sir?”

Barry saw O’Reilly put his index finger over his lips and look at the marquis, who shook his head. He turned to Helen. “You come recommended by Doctor O’Reilly. That’s enough for me.”

“You done this, sir?” She turned to O’Reilly. “Thank you very, very much.”

He shook his head. “No, Helen. You did. You stayed on at school. You worked hard. You passed the exams. I merely spoke to his lordship.”

Not quite, Fingal, Barry thought. I know you chased your surgical friends for information, pulled all the strings you could, but the knowledge goes no further than me.

“And
 
… and I can go to Queen’s this September and study medicine? Just like that?” Helen’s smile at O’Reilly was radiant.

The marquis chuckled. “Not quite,” he said. “You’ll have to apply, show my letter to the right people, and I’m not quite sure how the actual application to the faculty
—
”

“Excuse me, sir,” Barry said, “I had to do it in 1957. Doctor
Bradley started in 1956. The procedures won’t have changed
much, will they, Jenny?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “It was pretty straightforward. Fill in forms, show your exam marks, pay a registration fee
—
”

The marquis said, “The scholarship takes care of it.”

Barry said, “No time like the present. If it’s all right with you, Fingal, and you don’t mind covering, Jenny, if I can have the afternoon off?” He looked at O’Reilly.

“Of course.”

“Fine by me,” Jenny said.

“I’ll run you up to Queen’s, Helen. We’ll have to see the bursar, get the forms filled in. Show him his lordship’s certificate. Maybe I can speed things up a bit.”

Helen looked from face to face, tears streaming down her own. “I don’t know who to thank first.”

“Huh,” said O’Reilly, “you can thank me
—
”

Barry was startled. His boss always shrank from profuse thanks.

“
—
by passing every exam first go. Not like some people I once knew.”

Barry wondered what that was about.

“I will, sir,” she said, and sniffed. “I feel such an eejit blubbing like this, but
 
… oh dear
—
” She dashed her hands across her eyes. “Thank youse all. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in all my whole life.”

“Not quite,” Jenny said. “You’ll discover that feeling when you open the letter telling you you’ve been accepted. It’s still tougher for women to get in.”

“You mean
—
” Helen’s face fell.

Barry frowned at Jenny.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to spoil things, Helen. I can remember the waiting to hear. It could take a week or two. That’s all.”

The marquis said, “The bequest is very specific. The bursary is for the study of medicine.”

“Thank God for that,” Helen said. “I’d break my heart if I got turned down now.”

“Please don’t worry,” the marquis said.

Helen stood, darted at O’Reilly, and planted a firm kiss on his cheek. “I promise you, sir, I will pass every exam first go and when I get to be, och, I don’t believe it’s true, but when I get to be Doctor Hewitt, I’ll try to be as good a doctor as you, so I will.” She kissed him again.

You can try, Helen, Barry thought. So can I, but we’ll both be hard-pressed to achieve that goal. And, he noticed O’Reilly looking flustered, I don’t think in the face of thanks I could ever be so reticent. Time to change the subject. “Helen,” he said, “have you got a coat? It’s bucketing outside.”

“I have.”

“Here, Fingal,” Barry said. “You asked me to bring this down.” He handed O’Reilly the parcel.

“Helen, before you go,” said O’Reilly, “when I was a medical student, the dean of our faculty said that no matter how hard we studied we should, without fail, read at least some nonmedical books every week if we were to be educated physicians, but you’ll need textbooks as well. These are for you.” He handed her the parcel. “Open it.”

Barry expected her to rip the paper, but she used a fingernail to peel off the Sellotape, carefully unwrap the package, neatly fold the paper, and set it on the tablecloth. “Och,” she said, “they’re beautiful.” She held up one leather-bound tome for everyone to see.
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
. The second book was even heavier.

“I struggled with that one,” O’Reilly said. “And the subject matter hasn’t changed since it was written.”

Barry recognised
Gray’s Anatomy
, the vast volume that he along with all his classmates had discarded for a much slimmer work,
Johnson’s Synopsis of Anatomy
, which leant itself better to the learning of the absolutely vital anatomical facts. He’d advise Helen later.

“Thank you very much, Doctor O’Reilly,” Helen said. “We done
—
” She corrected herself, “we did
Twelfth Night
at school.”
She held up the Shakespeare. “And
this
,” she said, placing the
Gray’s Anatomy
on the dining room table and patting its maroon cover with gilt lettering, “I can start studying right now, so I can.”

“You do that,” O’Reilly said.

The marquis said, “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Miss Hewitt, and to wish you success.”

Helen bobbed. “Thank you, my lord. Thank you very much.”

Jenny applauded and everyone joined in.

Helen blushed.

Barry said, “Let me congratulate you too, and my lord, Fingal, Jenny, if you’ll excuse us? It’s time for me to run Helen home to pick up her A-level science and Junior Latin certificates to show to the bursar.”

“Can you get back here for six?” O’Reilly asked.

“Of course.”

O’Reilly turned to the marquis. “I’m a bit old for a stag session, but I’m taking my groom’s party to the Causerie this evening for a bite. If you’d like to join us
—
”

“I’d love to, Fingal, but I’m seeing my sister. Myrna’s really looking forward to Saturday.”

“So am I,” said O’Reilly. He turned to his new temporary assistant. “Deep end again for you, Jenny,” O’Reilly said.

“It’s no trouble. You two enjoy yourselves.”

Helen said, “I still don’t know how to thank you all, and you want to get going, Doctor Laverty, but could you wait just a wee minute? I have to tell somebody or I’ll burst so I want to see Kinky.”

“I can wait,” Barry said as he held the door open for her to leave the room and thought, On you go, Helen Hewitt, and it’s a great pleasure for me to be able to help you take the first steps on your journey to a new life.

*   *   *

“It’s a cosy spot,” Fingal said to Barry as they climbed the stairs.

Barry looked around the snug little room. A bar stood to one side. Behind it, bottles on shelves were reflected in a wall mirror. Mister Greer and Sir Donald Cromie were already seated and Mister Greer was waving to them. The other six tables were occupied and a soft hum of conversation rose along with curls of tobacco smoke. Cutlery chinked on china.