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“No,” said Brigit firmly. “That was in Britain. Thankfully, the Irish government didn’t patronise people who have been underpaid for decades by encouraging the public to give them a round of applause. They’re highly skilled medical professionals, not kids in a nativity play.” She picked up a cushion and hugged it, which helped her relax a little. “I’m sure a lot of the people clapping probably meant well.”
“He’s started making his own dance music,” interjected Phil. “It’s like listening to a washing machine having a heart attack.”
Oliver Dandridge had left early, possibly to hang upside down in a cave, or maybe he was working the night shift as the child-catcher.
