An Irish Country Practice

by Patrick Taylor

  The smile on her face made Barry Laverty’s heart grow two sizes and her sublime assurance that Donal Donnelly would love his new daughter added to the confidence Barry had gained from Jack Mills and Fingal as he had wrestled with his own feelings about fatherhood.

  He put his hand on the uterine fundus, thinking how delighted Sue would be to know the Donelleys’ new baby would have her name—and then frowned.

  Oh-oh. Now that the baby was gone, the womb should be shrunken to half its full size, hard and firm. That muscular action would loosen the afterbirth, which would then be delivered. But the uterus was still full size. He couldn’t have missed—?

  Julie moaned. “Unnnuh,” and Barry felt a contraction begin, as strongly as any of the recent ones. He immediately examined Julie vaginally. Och, blether. His fingers encountered the firmness of a second foetal head. He had missed diagnosing twins. Blast. Blast. “Miss Haggerty,” he said with the confidence he did not feel, “there’s another one.”

  “Right,” she said, setting Susan Brigit into a cot and supporting Julie again. “Push, love. You have a twin for Susan Brigit.” Barry felt the head descending well into the pelvis. Thank the Lord for that. It was not uncommon for the second twin to come bottom-first as a breech—a much more technically difficult delivery. The contraction passed.

  Miss Haggerty lowered Julie onto her pillows. “You’re doing fine, Julie.”

  “Will the baby be all right?”

  Barry heard the fear in Julie’s voice.

  “Wheest, love. Doctor Laverty’s doing everything he can, and I need to examine you.” Miss Haggerty moved round and began to palpate Julie’s stomach. “Longitudinal lie, back on the right. Head well into pelvis,” she said, putting the bell of the Pinard stethoscope to Julie’s belly and bending to listen through the flat earpiece. “One hundred and forty-four,” she said.

  “That’s a relief.” Now, instead of berating himself for having made a mistake, Barry concentrated on his work. “Your baby’s coming along well, Julie.”

  And it was. Within fifteen minutes, between them Julie, Miss Haggerty, and Barry, giving thanks for his extra obstetrical training, had delivered a second healthy little girl and one placenta without any postpartum haemorrhage, always a greater risk with twins. The single placenta meant that the girls would be identical. He had given Julie intramuscular Ergometrine to make the uterus contract more firmly and prevent any further bleeding. Miraculously Julie had not needed any stitches.

  Miss Haggerty had put twin one in a crib while she saw to cleaning and wrapping twin two to keep her warm. Both had received silver nitrate eyedrops to prevent eye infections with gonorrhoea if the mother were to be herself infected. The drops were a statutory requirement to prevent blindness. Now, with Miss Haggerty’s help, Julie Donnelly was sitting propped on her pillows with one twin cradled in the crook of each arm.

  “I’m tired,” she said, “but they’re so beautiful. My wee girls.” Her eyes glistened, she swallowed, then began to croon the “Ballyeamon Cradle Song”:

  Rest tired eyes a while

  Sweet is thy baby’s smile

  Angels are guarding and they watch o’er thee

  The lump was so big in Barry’s throat he could only nod. It could have been a catastrophe, he thought, looking at the two little bundles tucked safely beside their mother. So many things could go wrong with multiple pregnancies. But they hadn’t.

  He reassured himself by reciting silently the precise line from Donald’s Practical Obstetric Problems: “The only sure diagnosis [of twins] rests on adequate X-rays sufficiently late in the pregnancy, nevertheless one does not, as a routine, do X-rays.” He took some comfort from knowing he had been thorough in his antenatal care, and even though perhaps the weight gain and swollen ankles might have tipped him off, both were very common in singleton pregnancies. Yes, he’d missed a twin pregnancy, but Providence had smiled, and with the help of a skilled midwife, an experienced mother, and his own extra training in obstetrics, they had brought matters to a successful conclusion. He would not let Miss Haggerty accept any responsibility for his failure. She was a superb midwife and if Barry could be fooled, so could she.

  He cleaned Julie’s nether regions, removed the rubber sheet, stripped off his gloves, untied his mask and apron, and palpated the uterus once more to ensure that it was firmly contracted before covering her feet, legs, and belly with a blanket. He moved to the head of the bed. “Well done, Julie. I’m sorry we’ve all had a surprise. I should have—”

  “Och, wheest, Doctor dear,” Julie said. “Nobody’s perfect”—she gazed from baby to baby and smiled—“except my beautiful wee girls.”

  “Thank you,” he said. Country patients? Salt of the earth. “Now,” he said, “I’ll go and let Donal know.” He headed for the door.

  “By the way,” Miss Haggerty said, “twin one is six pounds two and twin number two is five pounds four. Good weights for twins born two weeks early. Twin two arrived at twelve twenty-one on Wednesday the twenty-eighth.” She smiled at Julie. “You can have two separate birthday parties every year.”

  39

  Surprised by Joy

  Barry crossed the hall and opened the lounge door.

  Sue and Donal leapt up from where they had been sitting in armchairs, each cradling a cup of tea, the Ulster panacea for everything from having lost sixpence to imminent nuclear attack.

  “How’s Tori’s wee brother?” Donal asked, setting his cup and saucer on a nearby coffee table. “She’s at her granny’s and she’s been busting to know about him, but she’ll have til wait til morning.”

  “Sit down, the pair of you,” Barry said, and waited until they had. He wanted to be tactful and break the news gently. “First of all. Julie’s fine, but I’m afraid Tori’s going to be disappointed. There’s no brother.”

  As wind gusts ruffle a lake, expressions flitted across Donal’s face. “You mean it’s not a wee boy?” And before Barry could break the rest of the news Donal grinned from ear to ear and said, “Another wee girl? That’s wheeker, so it is. If she’s got half the get-up-and-go of Tori she’ll be another cracker.”

  Clearly Donal was not one bit fazed that the baby was not a boy. “And Donal—” Barry began, but was interrupted by Sue, who said, “Congratulations, Donal, a wee sister for Tori. And you really don’t mind you have another daughter?”

  “Mind?” Donal said. “Mind? I’m over the moon. I’m Daddy to two little girls.”

  Sue looked at Donal with a gentle smile on her face and then looked over to Barry, who knew what she was thinking.

  Donal said, “Can I go through til see Julie and the wean?”

  Barry glanced back at Sue then began, “Donal, Susan Brigit’s a fine healthy girl, but…”

  “Aye?” Donal frowned.

  “Susan Brigit has a sister.” He saw Sue’s eyes widen and Donal look puzzled.

  “Och sure, Doc,” Donal said, “didn’t I just tell you Tori’s asleep at her granny’s.” He chuckled and began to rise.

  “Tori has another sister too. Julie gave birth to twins.”

  “What?” Donal eyes flew wide. “What? Och, go on, Doc. Pull the other leg. I’ve seen women with twins. They’re always like the side wall of a house this late in pregnancy.” But there was dubiousness in his voice when he said, “Isn’t that right?”

  “Usually,” Barry said, “but not this time. Julie fooled us all. You’ve got two beautiful little girls, and they are both fit as fleas. Susan Brigit’s six pound two and her sister’s five pounds four.” Which could account for some of Julie’s extra weight gain, Barry thought, but hadn’t been enough to make him or Miss Haggerty suspect a twin pregnancy.

  “Are you pleased, Donal?” Sue asked quietly.

  Donal swallowed, frowned, then said, “It’ll take a wee minute til get used til the notion, but…” His buck-toothed grin was vast. “Do you know, Miss Nolan, there’s no happier man than one wearing his wean’s arm for a neck scarf, and I’ll have th
ree scarves til choose from. I couldn’t be more pleased.”

  “And we’re pleased for you all,” Barry said.

  Donal said, “Them’s lovely names Julie picked out for the first one.”

  Barry said, remembering how thrilled he had been when Seamus Galvin had called his firstborn son for the doctors who had delivered him, “The Susan’s for you, Sue.”

  “For me? Honestly?” Sue said.

  Barry nodded.

  “How lovely.” Sue grinned.

  Donal said, “Julie and me never discussed girls’ names, and I like the ones she’s given the first one, but I’d like the second one to have Abigail as part of hers. Abi for short. I had an aunty called that. It means ‘her father’s joy.’ And she will be, I know it, so I do.”

  For a fleeting moment, Barry thought of another Joy, Lewis and Gracie Miller’s daughter, and wondered how Gracie was getting on in Portrush. He said, “Donal, you trot along and see your new family, I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  “I’m off,” Donal said, “but bring Miss Nolan too. She needs til get a look at her namesake.”

  Donal left.

  Sue moved closer to Barry. “You are a very lucky man, Doctor Barry Laverty. Thank you for bringing me. Golly, how flattering to have a baby named for me.” She smiled at him. “It must feel good to be able to help bring such happiness.”

  Barry nodded. “It is.” He kissed her. “And I’m a lucky man because I’m in love with you, Sue Nolan, and yes, if Donal Donnelly can be so elated about daddyhood, I see no reason why I’ll not be.”

  She kissed him. “Thank you for that, darling. Now go and see to your patient and I’ll make a fresh pot of tea. I’m sure Julie’s tongue’s hanging out.”

  “Good idea, pet,” Barry said. “Bring it through when it’s ready.”

  * * *

  While Miss Haggerty had seen to lining an empty drawer with blankets to make a cot for the unexpected second arrival and tidying up the equipment, Barry had examined each newborn thoroughly, then filled in the birth certificates.

  Sue arrived with a tray, cups and saucers, milk, sugar, and a teapot under a woolly tea cosy. She set the tray on the dressing table. “Mrs. Donnelly,” she said, “congratulations on your babies, and thank you very much for naming one for me.”

  Julie said, “That’s Susan Brigit in the wee cot. Would you like to hold her, miss?”

  Sue glowed. “May I?” She turned to Barry. “I’ve never held a newborn.”

  “You go right ahead,” Julie said.

  Sue bent over the cot and lifted the tiny blanket-wrapped bundle.

  Susan Brigit made a soft mewling noise.

  Sue cradled her, and rocked her. “She’s so beautiful. Oh look, her lips are like a little rosebud.”

  For someone who’s never handled a newborn, Barry thought, Sue’s certainly got the knack. And he’d never seen her smile so fondly. His bride-to-be was made for motherhood. And whatever made Sue happy made him rejoice.

  Miss Haggerty poured tea for Julie and herself. She said, “Now, folks, it’s nearly one thirty—Julie and the bairns need their rest. Let me have wee Susan.”

  She took the wee one from a Sue who seemed reluctant to let go, and put the baby back in her cot.

  “I’m going to chase you, Doctor and Miss Nolan.”

  Sue said, “Night, night, Mrs. Donnelly.”

  Barry said, “You’re right, Miss Haggerty. We’ll say goodnight and well done, Julie, and thanks as always, Miss Haggerty.” He followed Sue out, leaving Donal alone with Julie and the girls to say his goodnights.

  Donal appeared in the parlour a few moments later. “I’ve left the tea for Miss Haggerty, but”—he dropped a slow Donal wink—“I’ve a bottle of Black Bush, Bushmills premier whiskey. Would youse stay to wet the babies’ heads with me?”

  Barry shrugged. “Why not?” He was off duty after nine o’clock and could catch up on his sleep. “Sue?”

  “I’ll have to be getting up in a few hours—but why not indeed. Love one.”

  They each took an armchair.

  “Right,” Donal said. “Jaysus, that’s been quite the night. Twins? Twins, begod? Like an ould pal of mine once said, ‘I would not of had of believed it if I had not of would’ve been there.’” He grinned. “But it is dead on, and seeing there’s two babies, it’s doubles all round.” He poured one glass, but Barry said, “Single for me, please, Donal, we really do have to be on our way.”

  “Me too,” Sue said. “Whiskey’s not my usual tipple, especially not at one thirty in the morning.”

  “Fair enough.” Donal poured two much smaller measures. “That there whiskey comes from the oldest legal distillery in the world. King James the First gave them a licence in 1608. Now,” he raised his glass, “to the Donnelly twins. May they both live lives of Riley—and have huge funerals.”

  “Funerals?” Sue said. “Donal, have you taken leave of your senses? They’ve only just got here.”

  “And, miss, amn’t I wishing my girls riches and a full life packed with friends? Could I ask for anything better?”

  “Not a thing,” Barry said.

  “Well, when you put it that way, Donal. Yes, let’s drink to a life of riches and good friends for Susan Brigit Donnelly and Abigail—”

  “Just Abigail Donnelly for now,” said Donal. “Julie said she likes that, but she wants til give a middle name a bit of thought.” He scratched his head. “Now, can youse wait one more wee minute? I want you to know before you go, sir, the thing you advised me about has worked like a charm. I sold all thirty-eight tickets. One for each day from the start of her week thirty-seven til forty weeks and ten days. Sold every single one.”

  “Good for you,” Barry said. “Sue, Donal ran a lottery on what day Julie would be delivered.” He winked at Sue, who grinned, and said, “Donal Donnelly, what will you think of next?”

  “Och, Miss, I’ve always got an eye out for things that might make life better for me and mine.”

  It was then Barry realised that he was going to have to upset Donal’s applecart.

  “Today is day twenty-eight, so Lenny Brown is ten quid better off,” Donal said.

  “Good for Lenny.”

  “That’ll leave twelve quid for me.” He grinned. “See, I was fined five for taking the pheasants, five for trespassing, and I’d to pay your man Bowe six for the birds.” He shoved his hand in his pocket and pulled out and counted off several notes. “There’s the sixteen I owe Doctor O’Reilly, if you’d not mind giving it til him, sir.”

  “Certainly.” Barry accepted the money.

  “The family budget’s still up by twelve pounds. Near two weeks’ wages.”

  “Um, Donal…” Barry said, steeling himself to break the news.

  Donal grinned. “At the heels of the hunt it’s only money. I’m mostly in it for the craic, anyroad. The important thing is Julie’s fine and we’ve got another two wee girls. I can hardly wait to push them in their pram and have ould ones like Aggie Arbuthnot and Mrs. Flo Bishop cooing all over them.”

  A smiling Sue nodded her agreement.

  The man’s enthusiasm was infectious.

  “You’re not a daddy yet, sir, but I’ve seen you with our wee Tori when she’s been sick. You have a way with kiddies. You’ll be a star, so you will.”

  Barry smiled. “I do hope so,” he said.

  “I agree,” Sue said. “Looking at you tonight, Donal, there must be a lot of rewards for being a daddy.”

  Barry said, “I’m sure you’re right, Sue.” He coughed. “But look, Donal, I don’t want to sicken your happiness, but I’m afraid I have some bad news for you too.”

  “What? What’s wrong? Is one of the girls not right?” Donal’s voice rose in pitch.

  Barry realised he’d been clumsy. “Nothing like that,” he said, “but you see, Susan Brigit was born before midnight. She arrived on Tuesday the twenty-seventh.”

  “Oh,” said Donal. “Oh.” He looked at his watch, then scratched
his head. And looked at his watch again. Clearly the implication was sinking in. “Oh. Now there’s a thing.” He frowned and looked at Barry. “I don’t suppose you’d consider…”

  Barry was about to explain that he really couldn’t fudge the birth certificates when Donal said, “That’s a daft thing for me til say, so it is. You’d get your head in your hands if anyone found out, sir, and a bargain’s a bargain. The rules was that if you got the date of birth right, you’d get a tenner. Colin Brown’s going to be a happy wee lad. His daddy bought a ticket for him too. For the twenty-seventh.”

  “You,” said Barry, “are a sound man, Donal Donnelly. I’m proud to know you.”

  “Och, sir,” Donal said, “isn’t it the right thing to do?” He shook his head. “Sure everyone knows that.”

  Barry, well experienced in the ways of bigger cities, was at no pains to disabuse Donal of his belief.

  Donal said, “And never mind that. I’d like you til do another wee thing for me too.”

  Barry sipped his whiskey. “Of course.”

  “Until we got the job on them cottages in May, the cash had been a bit tight at Dun Bwee.” He stared at the table. “I didn’t give nothing til help out the Galvins. I’m desperate sorry, so I am.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about, man.”

  Donal shook his head. “There is. You’ve been here long enough, sir, to know we all helps each other.”

  “True, but I can promise you, Donal, the Galvins have got exactly what they needed. I presented it to them ten days ago.” He had since heard that Seamus’s arrival was imminent.

  Donal laughed. “It’s easy til see you’re a doctor, sir, not a builder. You can have as many quantity surveyors as you like on a job; them’s the experts that work out how many nails and planks and screws you’re going til use. They always get it wrong. Julie’ll understand when I tell her. We’ve got all we need.” He handed over two pound notes. “We’d like them til have that for what we call in my trade ‘cost overruns.’ We want to do our bit. If the girls hadn’t come on two separate days it would have been a fiver.”