Free The Pornographer by John McGahern

bought her a bunch because of their amazing beauty in the frost. On many frozen evenings such as this she and I used to go to Lenten Devotions, down the hill and to the left up Church Street, and stand at the back of the cold, near-empty church.
    “God bless you,” she said as I put the brandy down. “I wouldn’t take it off you but I know you have plenty of money,but I’ll never forget it,” and I saw her eyes fasten on the chrysanthemums in disapproval. “What did you want to go bringing in those old flowers for?”
    “I was just passing them and I thought they looked nice.”
    “They’re a waste. And I’m not likely to get married again,” she began to laugh, but painfully, catching at the laughs. “And I’d hardly be here if I wasn’t trying to put off the other thing.”
    “Ah, but look, all the people around you have flowers.”
    “They’re from the city,” she said. “A good head of lettuce or a string of onions would give me more joy than all the flowers in the world.”
    I thought of her own garden beside the little creosoted wooden gate off where the railway siding used to be, blooming with good things for the table. “You look far better, and I don’t think it’s just in my eyes.”
    She did look better. Though I knew it was of little use. All sorts of clover and sweet grasses glowed here and there on even the steepest slopes. They were not meant to be clutched at.
    “Maybe because they’ve stopped that old deep X-ray. It used to make me feel horrible. I don’t trust any of those drugs and gadgets. But what can you do? When you’re here you have to put up with whatever they want to do to you.”
    “Do you ever hear from Cyril or Michael?” I asked.
    “No, it’d never occur to them that there was such a thing as a pen or paper. They’d not write,” and she started to chuckle. “But there was someone asking for you. She has me persecuted about you. It’s that blackheaded nurse that jumps around.”
    “Well, tell her I was asking for her. She’s a fine looking girl.”
    “I will not. There’s nothing more sets your teeth on edge when you’re down as someone going around showing the joys of spring.”
    “Would you like a little brandy now?”
    “No thanks. I can do without it for a while. The pain’s been not so bad. I’ll keep it till I need it.”
    Through the window above the bed I could see the clear sky of frost, pierced with stars, and the reflection of all the lights of the city beyond the bare trees, and beside them this woman’s fierce desire to live, and in the long ward, all the little groups about, the same desire in each bed, small shining jewels in an infinite unfathomable band. Everywhere there was a joy that was part of weeping.
    Suddenly I felt my eyes blind. I had been taken completely by surprise. There was the need, too, to give thanks and praise; and no one to turn to. So that she wouldn’t see my disturbance, I pretended to fix the brandy bottle more carefully out of sight in the locker.
    “I suppose I might as well be going now. Before they put me out.”
    “What hurry’s on you? Ah, but wait, tell me the truth now, do you think will I ever get out of this old place?”
    “Of course you’ll get out but you’ll have to have patience.”
    “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I never will.”
    “There’s the bell for the visitors,” I said.
    “You can still stay on a few minutes.”
    “It’s great to see you better,” I couldn’t bear to stay.
    “You’ll be in? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
    “I’ll be in the day after tomorrow,” and I saw her relax and then ease to let me go as soon as she had the promise. And now that she was willing to let me go I was ashamed of my haste to be away, and wanted to stay.
    The next day I put aside for what I liked doing best. I did nothing, the nothing of walking crowded streets in the heart of the city, looking at faces, going into chance bars to rest, eating lunch and dinner alone in