Everything Has Its Time - страница 4

«When was the last time you saw Rachel?» the voice of her father distracted her from her dismal train of thought.

«I went to the hospital at the start of the week. But she didn’t want to see me. The doctors say her condition is slowly getting worse.»

«Again?» he asked anxiously.

«Yes. Delusional thoughts and hallucinations again. I was told she got alcohol from somewhere and was openly making advances on the doctor, and was trying obscene acts on people…»

«Stop it, please, Erin,» his face grimaced in pain, «I can’t hear any more of this about my own daughter… Can you adjust my cushions a bit, I’m too low down.» She carefully plumped up his cushions so that he could lie more comfortably, not forgetting to kiss him on the forehead while she did so. Then she straightened out the wrinkles in the woollen blankets, out from under which tubes of liquid led under the bed. «And, if you can, please give me something to drink, Erin.» Here she held to his lips a transparent container with a tube running from it.

«What is this?»

«Water, Dad, like you asked for», she answered helpfully.

«There’s not even enough here to christen a witch,» he joked, without success.

She raised his head slightly and he, hiding his strain, slurped a few sips of water from the tube. He then made a surprised face, but across which suddenly a smile appeared once more: «Yes, this actually is water…»

«What were you expecting?»

«I was so hoping that for his day, Saint Patrick would make a miracle and turn this water into whisky.»

Smiles appeared on both their faces again.

«And yourself, how do you feel?» he asked.

«I’m alright, Dad. I went to the doctor’s a few weeks ago. They said I am fine. They even permitted me to do sport.»

«You’re going to the horse-riding club again?»

«I really want to do it again! I really enjoy it, but I haven’t been there for a while. A world of horses… And I really miss my Beowolf!»

«Beowolf is the very same thoroughbred racer that you talk about so much?»

«Yes. And he’s missed me, I’m sure, and he will have missed the horseracing and jumping. He loves those things!»

«Thank God! And what about your personal life, daughter? Is there any news that I’ll be overjoyed to hear? You must have a bloke by now! Well go on, spit it out!»

«No. Things aren’t going as well there as at work. And I have no time for it at the moment.»

«It’s not about time. I know you. All the real, reliable men have simply disappeared. So… what, have they all died out? Like the mastodons? Their places have been taken over by self-indulgent adult-children. Don’t you think?»

«Dad, I promise that when my searching yields results, you’ll be the first to know.»

«So, you mean that you’ve decided to search for a mastodon?» he grunted unpleasantly, «If so then I fear you’ll not be having results soon.»

«To be honest, the men I meet are young, and pretend to be of impeccable upbringing and venerable background. But then I see they’re just haughty, blue eyed snobs with crooked teeth and, sorry, but bad breath. And some of them would be nothing if it wasn’t for their parents’ chequebooks. You know, the more I get to know the world, the less I think I can find a man I can love truly…»

«These youngsters spend twelve years at boarding school, where they are whipped for walking out of step, and so they lose their independence of thought. And as a result, they consider us Irish to be good for nothing except drunken dancing. You’re a very smart girl, Erin. You understand how people work. But you also must listen to your heart… Often it is only the heart, not cold calculation, that tells us what to do next…»