‘Red or white?’ he asked, as she approached with the trolley.
‘Red please. Have you any Malbec?’ I was more than capable of buying my own drink.
‘I’ll have the same thank you,’ he chipped in over me and handed her a twenty euro note. If I didn’t already feel obliged to make small talk for the next hour, I did then.
He seemed like a nice man, but I’d been making small talk with patients all day and I was exhausted with it.
‘So, what about you?’ I asked, more out of politeness than interest. The hostess moved on to serve the passengers in the seats behind us.
‘I’m a dentist,’ he said. I nearly choked on my glass of wine.
‘You’re kidding?’ Such a coincidence.
‘Do I look like I’m joking?’ he said, with a perfectly straight but definitely natural smile.
‘Just a massive coincidence. I’m a hygienist,’ I told him, and he chuckled.
‘Birds of a feather flock together.’ He smiled at me with a shared understanding.
‘Where did you study?’ It was par for the course; it was such a small world we probably shared some of the same colleagues along the way.
‘Birmingham. Mind you, that was a good few years ago now. What about you?’
‘Edinburgh,’ I said.
‘And do you enjoy being a hygienist?’ He seemed to genuinely wonder.
‘I absolutely love it. I get all the benefits of working with the patients, but without the full responsibility of being the dentist. And I’d honestly hate to make dentures and do root canal treatment.’ The shudder that ripped through my shoulders appeared to amuse him.
‘Do you like being a dentist?’
‘I used to. But now there is so much red tape and paperwork. I spend more time writing up notes for patients than actually treating them.’ He sighed.
‘I can relate.’ Every second page in the tabloids held an advert with a ‘no win no fee’ offer of legal advice for dental negligence.
‘It’s one of the reasons I’m moving home. Things are still a bit simpler in the west of Ireland. We are about twenty years behind the UK. Hopefully I’ll be retired before all the fine print bullshit is introduced. Excuse my language. I probably have another fifteen years of work left in me, part time that is. I’m too fond of the golf to be working full time these days,’ he said.
‘So, you’re moving home?’
‘Yes. My wife is delighted. She wanted to return long ago, but the kids were in college and it was never the right time. But now, I have a son who is a teacher in Dubai and another who’s an engineer in Canada. If we don’t make the move now, we neverwill. It’s a good time to buy in Ireland again now. Not good for them, of course.’ He was referring to the crash after The Celtic Tiger era.
‘So, do you have a job to go to?’ I was curious about him starting again at his age, fair play to him.
‘No. I bought over a dental surgery in a town called Ballina. I’m going to renovate it and extend. I’m hoping to have it up and running early in the new year. Have you heard of Ballina?’ He asked, before taking a sip of his wine.
You couldn’t make it up. It was almost funny.
‘My boyfriend is from Killala,’ I said. I still hadn’t got this stranger’s name, or given him mine.
‘My wife is actually from Killala. I bet she’d know your boyfriend, or his family at least.’
‘I’m Patrick, by the way.’ He extended his right hand clumsily over the arm rest. ‘Patrick O’Mara.’
‘I’m Lucy O’Connor, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’ I meant it. The conversation had turned out to be far more interesting than I’d anticipated. It had been worth downing the Kindle for.
‘So, Lucy, where are you working now? If you’re flying out of London, I can only presume you’re no longer in Edinburgh?’
‘I work in Winchester. I’ve actually got two lovely places, I’m lucky.’ Good jobs were hard to find, regardless of any profession. I was lucky I loved both places. I’d heard horror stories from some of my hygienist friends about unpaid invoices, no nursing support and blunt instruments.
