John McGahern - The Pornographer

We climbed bare concrete stairs and went through swing doors. Suddenly we were in a long hall with beds on either side. I asked her if it was the ward and she nodded. I hadn’t recognized it, always having come to it from the other side. The ward was in darkness, except for the lines of moonlight, and the blue light beside the night nurse sitting behind the glass at the other end. My heart was beating as I counted the beds from the other end to discover where my aunt was lying. As I drew near to that bed I stopped and caught her.

“She may see us.”

“No. Even if she were awake she’d think it was a change of nurses.”

“I’m not going any further.” I could feel my heart pounding. “You go on to your friend. I’ll just stay here.”

In the dim light, I stood and listened to the far roar of the night traffic through the city. I thought I heard a moan or few words of prayer in the night but could not be certain because of my pounding heart. All were women in this ward and they all had cancer. It was like being in the middle of a maternity ward in the night, and all those women were waiting to give birth, to their own death. I counted the beds again to the right of the door. Her bed must be the bed two beds away. I searched for the heap of bed clothes. I thought I saw them move. People have a second sense? What if she sensed me there? The two girls were smiling in the blue light behind the glass and beckoning me forward. They were like what, like roses, I did not know, among pain, ignorant of all pain, like girls, like blue roses. They sank into chairs, laughing as I shook my head. When they started to call me again, still laughing, I turned away, and did not turn back till I heard them come towards me. I felt like kissing the other girl instead of shaking her hand, kissing them both, laughing and crying. Almost not knowing what I was doing, I followed her out into the night, and there was the sharp sound of the lock turning.

“Bridie was delighted to see us. It broke up the night for ner. Often you’d long for an emergency at night though it’d mean more work. The night goes quicker then. You should have come into the office. The office is soundproof and Bridie wanted to meet you.”

“I was afraid.”

“You never thought you’d be coming in to see your aunt in the middle of the night, did you?” she laughed roguishly and I seized her in a long kiss, her body almost completely naked beneath the dress. When I released her she picked up two big fistfuls of hay and putting them up to her face pretended to be advancing slowly on me from behind a barrier of hay. When she was very close, with a sudden movement, she piled the hay all over my hair and face, and started to run. I clawed the hay free and as soon as I caught her we both went down into the wet grass. I could single out stale sweat now and perfume and ammonia smells mixed with scent of the new hay. When we rolled over and lay still on the ground it was amazing to see the moon so large and still, becalmed above the trees and out in the depths of the sky. We rose without a word and went in.

She went straight ahead after going through the door of the home, this time down a narrow straight corridor. She opened a door very quietly, and we were more in a cell than a room, white walls, a radiator, a narrow bed, a dressing table and wardrobe, and on the wall above the head of the bed a plain black crucifix.

“This is my room,” she whispered and put her fingers to her lips. “The walls are paper thin.”

There were photos of football teams on the dressing table and she lifted them, pointing out several players, “My brothers.” More than half the players in one of the photos seemed to be her brothers. I lifted another photo, that of a handsome grey-haired man and herself, both in evening dress.

“He’s very handsome. Is he your father?”

“No,” she laughed. “He’s the married man.”

“Let me stay a half-hour. Let me hold you in my arms.”

“The walls are worse than paper.”

“I’ll be quieter than if you were here on your own.”

“But it’s practically morning.”

“I don’t care. I promise to go in half an hour,” and with a smile and almost resignedly she turned off the light.

The curtain wasn’t drawn and I held her when she’d slipped out of her clothes to caress and worship her body in the soft yellow light. She was soft and amazingly beautiful, yet rugged as a young animal. I followed her as quietly as I’d promised into the narrow bed, and hardly daring to breathe held her in my arms.

This body was the shelter of the self. Like all walls and shelters it would age and break and let the enemy in. But holding it now was like holding glory, and having held it once was to hold it — no matter how broken and conquered — in glory still, and with the more terrible tenderness.

“We met on a poor night,” I whispered.

“Why?”

“I have to go to London in the morning,” and when she looked at me as if I was lying, “I know it sounds like an excuse but it’s true. You can even ask my aunt if you don’t believe me.”

“How long will you be?”

“A week or so. I can’t be certain. I’ll ring you when I get back.”

She took my mouth in a long kiss, sealing her whole body to mine.

“I suppose it’s not safe?” I said.

“It’s never safe.”

“There’s no use risking spoiling it, then.”

“The next time I’ll have precautions,” and she went below the sheets, the peace that flooded out a perfect calm, the even moonlight only a thin tattered shadow.

“You don’t resent I’m not a virgin?” she whispered as we kissed after phoning a taxi.

“I’m too old for that. Why should I? Why should you be idle while waiting for my white horse that might never gallop even close.”

“I’m glad,” she kissed me again. “You’d be surprised how many resent it.”

“Their box of tools are the only ones fitted for the job, is that it?” and she caught me beneath the arm with her nails as she laughed.

As soon as the taxi arrived, men suddenly appeared from all directions, wanting to know if they could share my taxi into town. I told them they’d have to ask the taxi man.

“This is more like a brothel than a nurses’ home,” I said as I bade her goodbye.

“I know,” she held my face a moment in her hands. “Don’t say it too loud. There have been complaints.”

Three men shared the taxi into town. One was very extrovert and sat in the front seat beside the driver.

“You’re new,” he said. “Welcome to the club.”

“Thanks.”

He picked up no hint of sarcasm as he went on to give his name, offered his hand as if he wore a bishop’s ring, and said he was the sauce chef in the Shelbourne.

“What’s your name and what do you do?” he asked as if I were lagging with my information.

I told him my name and that I was working in the advertising business.

“Doing what?”

“Writing ads.”

That appeared to satisfy him and he introduced me to the other two men. One was a plumber. The other worked as a clerk in the Customs House.

“Do you know the name of the nurse you were with?” he asked.

“I don’t think so, and by the way you’re leaving out somebody,” I said.

“Who?” he bridled.

“The driver. You never introduced me to the driver.”

“O that doesn’t matter,” the driver said, the car going very fast through the empty early morning streets. “My name is Paddy Murphy. I’m a Knight of the Realm,” he said. “And you, you’re going to Cabra West?” he said to the sauce chef as if he knew him from a previous run.

It was too late to go to bed by the time I got back to the flat. I washed, had several cups of coffee, packed and got the train to the boat.