Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? by Claudia Carroll Read Free Book Online Page A

FEMUR?’
    I’m not joking, that is the actual decibel level you have to speak to Mrs Brophy at.
    ‘You see, I got a phone call from my agent in Dublin yesterday…’
    ‘MORNING, DAN,’ says Mrs Brophy, sticking her head around the kitchen door. ‘WHERE DID YOU DISAPPEAR OFF TO YESTERDAY, ANNIE? THERE’S A LOAD OF SHOPPING NEEDS TO BE DONE.’
    ‘DON’T WORRY, MRS BROPHY, I’LL GET TO IT…’ I yell back, before trying to grab Dan’s arm. ‘Look, something’s come up that I really need to talk to you about, before you rush off to start work…’
    ‘YES, PAUL FOGARTY RANG; HE SAYS WOULD YOU MIND CALLING OUT TO HIM AT SOME POINT TODAY, WHEN YOU’RE ON YOUR ROUNDS,’ Mrs Brophy cuts in.
    ‘TERRIFIC, WILL DO,’ says Dan, rubbing his eyes exhaustedly and dropping his voice a bit when he sees that between Andrew, James and Mrs B, we’ve got a kitchen-full of guests.
    ‘Morning all,’ we both say together, as I wonder how in hell I can try collaring him again.
    ‘Ah, there you are, Annie love. Any chance of one of your lovely juices?’ Andrew grins at me over his Irish Times and I grin back and say, yes of course, it’s on its way.
    Juicing every morning is a little ritual I’ve had, ever since I discovered, a long time ago, that it was the only way I could make sure Dan was getting some kind of vitamins into him, given the number of mealtimes he’d end up skipping when he was out doing farm calls. Except these days,because our kitchen is like a bus station more often than not, I end up making juices for everyone else as well. So I head to the pantry, grab some apples, fresh carrot and ginger and get chopping, while Dan fills Andrew in on the difficulties he had delivering a calf late last night.
    ‘ANNIE, DID YOU NOT HEAR ME TELLING YOU TO GET TEA BAGS?’ Mrs Brophy snaps at me, on her way to open up the surgery with our new intern in tow.
    ‘YES, ON THE WAY,’ I smile back at her through gritted teeth, tempted to tell her that not only did I hear her, half of County Waterford did as well. Quick as I can, I feck the veggies into the blender as Andrew continues to quiz Dan about the intricacies of dystocia in cows.
    (Loosely translated as a tough birth, for eejits like me.)
    ‘Any superfetation during the pregnancy?’ asks Andrew, peering over the top of his newspaper, with eyebrows exactly like one of the Marx Brothers.
    ‘No symptoms. But just to be on the safe side, I did prescribe a course of…’
    ‘…Anti-inflammatories. Good, good, that should do the trick. But no harm for you to pop out there on your rounds and check in again.’
    ‘Yeah, of course…don’t worry, I’ll make a point of it…’
    ‘And what about Fogarty’s racehorse?’
    ‘Hard to tell, I don’t anticipate any long-term damage, but I doubt he’ll be running again for the rest of the flat season…’
    OK, I don’t mean to be rude, but I know only too well that this conversation could go on for about half an hour. And time is of the essence here before Dan disappears for the whole day, which leaves me with no choice but to step in.

    ‘Guys, I’m so sorry to interrupt, but, Dan, if it’s alright, I really need to have a lightning quick word with you before you start work…’
    ‘Oh yeah, you were telling me about…emm…sorry, what was it again?’ says Dan distractedly and even though I don’t have his full attention, I go for it. Let’s face it, it’s now or never. Knowing him, there’s a fair chance I mightn’t see him again till about two am tomorrow morning. If I’m lucky, that is.
    ‘Yeah…well, the thing is, it’s good news. At least it might be…I have an audition, you see…’
    ‘Hey, good for you,’ both Dan and Andrew chime disinterestedly, just as Dan’s mobile rings.
    ‘It’s today, you see, the audition, that is, and it means going back to Dublin for it…’
    ‘Hang on one sec, Annie, this might be Paul Fogarty. Hello?’
    And just like that, I’ve lost him. He takes the