I ducked away from the masked men who were spraying the gutters and feeding their hose through the grating of gully after gully. I’d have preferred to cycle all the way to the hospital, and it would have brought me there in half the time the tram took, but Matron wouldn’t hear of her nurses turning up in a sweat.Įmerging onto the street, I nearly walked into a disinfection cart. How would I replace it when its mechanism rusted up?) I let down the side tapes of my skirt and took my rain-soaked bag out of the basket. I left my cycle in the usual alley and clipped the combination lock onto the back wheel. I pedalled faster, past a motor car creeping along to eke out its petrol. A boy in a man’s coat shouted something rude at me. A waft of dung and blood as I passed a lane where livestock were waiting. My short green cape kept off the worst, but my coat sleeves were soon wet through. I cycled through reeking Dublin streets that were slick with rain. Still hours of dark to go when I left the house that morning.
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