nal apparatus. Say your rosary, Francis, and pray for your internal
apparatus.
Mam visits me on Thursdays. Id like to see my father, too, but
Im out of danger, crisis time is over, and Im allowed only one visi-
tor. Besides, she says, hes back at work at Ranks Flour Mills and
please God this job will last a while with the war on and the English
desperate for flour. She brings me a chocolate bar and that proves
Dad is working. She could never afford it on the dole. He sends me
notes. He tells me my brothers are all praying for me, that I should be
a good boy, obey the doctors, the nuns, the nurses, and dont for-
get to say my prayers. Hes sure St. Jude pulled me through the crisis
because hes the patron saint of desperate cases and I was indeed a des-
perate case.
Patricia says she has two books by her bed. One is a poetry book
and thats the one she loves.The other is a short history of England and
do I want it? She gives it to Seamus,the man who mops the floors every
day, and he brings it to me. He says, Im not supposed to be bringing
anything from a dipteria room to a typhoid room with all the germs fly-
ing around and hiding between the pages and if you ever catch dipte-
ria on top of the typhoid theyll know and Ill lose my good job and be
out on the street singing patriotic songs with a tin cup in my hand,
which I could easily do because there isnt a song ever written about
Irelands sufferings I dont know and a few songs about the joy of
whiskey too.
Oh, yes, he knows Roddy McCorley. Hell sing it for me right
enough but hes barely into the first verse when the Kerry nurse rushes
in.Whats this, Seamus? Singing? Of all the people in this hospital you
should know the rules against singing. I have a good mind to report you
to Sister Rita.
Ah, God, dont do that, nurse.
Very well, Seamus. Ill let it go this one time.You know the singing
could lead to a relapse in these patients.
When she leaves he whispers hell teach me a few songs because
singing is good for passing the time when youre by yourself in a
typhoid room. He says Patricia is a lovely girl the way she often gives
him sweets from the parcel her mother sends every fortnight. He stops
mopping the floor and calls to Patricia in the next room, I was telling
Frankie youre a lovely girl, Patricia, and she says,Youre a lovely man,
Seamus. He smiles because hes an old man of forty and he never had
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