Free Heart and Soul by Maeve Binchy Page B

tonight?”
    “Do you still have Judy Murphy's awful little things every night?” Clara was admiring.
    “They're not too bad when you get to know them. They're deafening, of course, but that's their way.”
    “You're a very tolerant young man,” Clara said approvingly, and they both went back to work.
    Barbara and Fiona had been to the hairdresser's during their lunch hour. When Declan saw them at the staff meeting that afternoon he longed desperately to curl his fingers around the little ringlets beside Fiona's ears. He pulled himself together sharply. He must be going mad. He cleared his throat three times before he felt confident enough to wish them happy hunting at the gala tonight.
    “We'll hear all about it on Monday,” he said, hoping that the yearning wasn't obvious in his voice. She must not know how desperately he wanted her not to go.
    “I'll be able to report firsthand,” Tim said. “I'll be working there tonight and I'll have chapter and verse about what went on.”
    Declan wondered for one mad moment if he could beg Tim to ensure that Fiona came home early, safely and alone.
    “So can I report.” Ania laughed. “I will be taking in the coats there.” Barbara and Fiona were delighted with this news and jumped up and down with excitement.
    “Maybe you'll meet someone too,” Barbara said.
    “Not in the cloakroom, I fear.” Ania was realistic.
    Somehow Declan got through the rest of the day. With a heavy heart he went out to join Clara at her car.
    “Hilary had to cancel at the last moment. She's got some crisis to do with her mother, but let's you and I go anyway,” Clara said. They folded his bicycle away and she drove them to a smart wine bar.
    •   •   •   
    “This is very kind of you,” Declan said, trying to drag his attention to this pleasant woman sitting opposite him.
    “No, on the contrary, I am grateful to have a nice person to talk to on a Friday evening rather than going home to an empty house,” she said.
    Clara ordered a fizzy water, followed by one glass of white wine, then another fizzy water. Declan had three glasses of claret. Clara told him of her daughters, Adi and Linda, of Adi's difficult boyfriend and Lindas difficult lifestyle. She told Declan how she now had rules in the house, for their own good as well as hers. They must realize that they could not walk over people forever.
    “I don't expect you walk over your parents, Declan,” she said unexpectedly.
    “I have probably taken all their sacrifices for me very much for granted,” he admitted. “I think we all do. Did you?”
    And there she was again, talking away about her remote father who never seemed at all interested, her difficult, disappointed mother who snapped out a series of criticisms rather than having a conversation.
    “What one word would you use to describe her?” Declan asked.
    “Regretful.
That's the word. She always regrets something. Like that nobody has any manners anymore, or how expensive everything has become, or that I married Alan or that I left Alan, that Adi
has
a boyfriend and Linda
doesn't
have a boyfriend. Whatever state there is, it's wrong. I didn't realize it before.” She looked surprised.
    “Maybe I should be a psychiatrist,” Declan joked.
    “Don't you dare. You're just the kind of GP we used to read about but never met. Stick at it, Declan.”
    “I will. I wish I weren't so dull and plodding, though.”
    “I don't think of you at all like that. You've helped a lot of patients very significantly in under a week. You actually like people and it shows. What's dull and plodding about being that sort of person?” She sounded sincere.
    “Women prefer rats, bounders, merciless people.” He kept it light.
    “Yeah, they do for five minutes, but not when they grow up.”
    “I hope you're right. I'm not much good in the merciless stakes.”
    “I'm right. Trust me.”
    “Let me get you one for the road,” he offered.
    “No, Dr. Carroll, and you remember