Back in the 1930s in Ireland…

Back in the 1930s in Ireland for this brief spark of a moment now: the child who’ll be my mother has arrived at the doctor’s house at last.

She knocks at the huge closed door.

Someone opens door after door on the other side of the closed door then opens the outer door.

It’s a housekeeper.

She looks down from the top step at my mother rocking from foot to foot.

What do you want?

We’re needing the doctor for my sister please.

Have you money?

I’ve no money.

The housekeeper tells her the doctor is eating his dinner and can’t be disturbed. She says she’ll pass the message on to the doctor.

By the time my mother gets home her sister is dead.

That doctor comes the next day in the late afternoon. He tells my mother’s mother and father that if they tell anyone he didn’t come out immediately to attend to their girl he’ll report them as rebels to the authorities.

Two days later the bill for this doctor’s visit arrives at their house.