Advice

Dr Kelly called as Martin was closing the shop.

"I am the living embodiment of temptation. Will you come down to Paddles' with me and have a pint?"

In another town the local doctor and chemist might be expected to drink at the hotel, which would have a better class bar, but O'Brien's was so dismal and gloomy that Martin and Peter much preferred to bypass it in favour of Paddles' earthier but more cheerful atmosphere. They settled into a snug.

"My advice?" Martin held his head one side quizzically. He didn't think there was any real excuse other than a need for a companion.

"It's young Anna. She has me worried. She keeps saying that everyone has a down on her, and that she really did see a womman down at the lake crying..."

"At that age they're so full of drama..." Martin was consoling.

"I know. God, don't I know. But you know the way you sense when someone's telling the truth?"

"Well, you don't think she saw a ghost?"

"No, but I think she saw something."

Martin was nonplussed. He didn't know what he was expected to say.

"Do you remember her?"

"Remember who?"

"Bridie Daly, or Brigid Daly, or whatever her name was? The one who drowned."

"How would I remember her? Weren't we only kids?"

"What did she look like?"

"I haven't a clue. When was it? It was way back."

"It was in 1920."

"Peter, we were only eight."

"Was she dark with long hair? It's just that Anna is so positive."