Authors: Jean Grainger
‘He is out of immediate danger but we must get him to hospital.’
Mrs Maxwell was weeping with relief, and Colonel Maxwell was hoarse as he replied, ‘The ambulance should be here any moment. It will bring him to Victoria Military Hospital in Cork. Will he… Will he stay well enough for the journey?’
Richard checked his patient’s pulse and breathing. Both had stabilised. ‘He has an excellent chance.’ Gently, he shook the boy’s hand. ‘You’re a great lad, Artie. You’re going to be grand. I’ll see you kicking a football with your brothers in a few weeks, all right?’
Artie’s mother was whispering into her son’s ear, reassuring him that all was well. Moments later two military medics hurried into the room and under Richard’s instructions gently loaded Artie onto a stretcher. The colonel’s wife insisted on being the one to travel with her youngest, leaving her husband to ensure the safety of her older sons – both still sleeping – from any attack made on the barracks by Irish rebels. She paused before leaving to take Richard’s hand. ‘Thank you, Doctor Buckley. He’s our baby, and... There are no words to convey the fullness of my heart, except to say that we are forever in your debt.’
‘You are welcome.’ He packed up his instruments and made his way to a bathroom to wash himself. When he emerged he was directed by the staff officer to a large room that had been turned into a sitting room of sorts. Despite its imposing size and drab walls and floor, the Maxwell family had endeavoured to make it home. A fire burned merrily in the grate and on either side of the fireplace were large, comfortable-looking sofas. The tables and shelves around the room held books and toys and stacked in one corner were cricket bats, fishing rods and footballs. Colonel Maxwell stood with a glass in his hand, his back to the fire.
‘Drink?’ he offered.
‘Yes, I think I will.’ Richard accepted a large whiskey, and stood taking in the room.
Maxwell followed his eyes. ‘It’s not much, I know. The house was better, but just not safe. Dorothy and the boys are better here. I would like to send them back, away from here altogether. But she won’t be bossed about, my lady wife. Says if I’m here then that’s where she’s staying... Though after this, I don’t know.’
Richard said nothing, sipping his drink.
Maxwell poured himself another glass. ‘And how are your two children? Twins, I heard? Boys or girls?’
‘They’re fine. Ruling the roost. A boy and a girl, James and Juliet. They’re two and a half now and full of mischief. Sure you know yourself with your own lads.’ Richard’s tone was light. There was no indication that the men had been at loggerheads just days earlier.
‘The time goes so quickly. It seems like only yesterday our boys were babes in arms and now they’re growing up. The eldest will be off to Eton soon.’ He paused staring into the flames.
‘
Look about that other thing. I need to present a report to my superiors. The local population, you know, providing aid the rebels... It can’t be tolerated. Even if you are a doctor. But I won’t be enquiring too deeply, if you understand me. It’s the best I can do.’
Richard smiled, drained his whiskey and handed the glass to the Colonel. Putting on his coat and hat he said, ‘Good night. Let me know how Artie fares.’