The Misremembered Man Read Online Free

Alice’s fragrant presence had spoken to him in shining windowpanes, spotless floors, and in flowers that bloomed in pots on every sill. Yes, he decided, yes, it could only be a good thing. Rose McFadden often said that a house needed a woman’s touch to make it a home. And she was right.
    He looked across at Paddy sitting in the armchair where his future wife might sit. He thought of his lonely bed where a future wife might lie, and suddenly the scene darkened, and all the old fears reared up to fell him: fear of change, of circumstances, of other people, of women, of intimacy. In short, fear of all that might make his life better.
    “I couldn’t do it,” he blurted out, more to himself than Paddy.
    Paddy flinched. “Couldn’t do what?”
    “God, I couldn’t bring any woman in here.”
    “But you wouldn’t have to bring her here right away,” Paddy persisted, oblivious to the turmoil in his friend’s head. His wife had advised him to be forceful, and he knew if he didn’t carry home a positive response, he’d get an earful. “You could meet her…you could meet her in a hotel…or a, or a pub or whatever first. Rose and me would help you tidy up anyway—that’s if you…that’s if you…if you decided she was right for you and you wanted to show her your home, like.”
    “And what kinda paper did you say these women were in?” Jamie tried to sound casual. He knew he could not confide his true feelings to Paddy.
    “What kinda what?”
    “Paper, Paddy.”
    “Aw, the paper. I believe she said it was the Mid-Ulster …the Mid-Ulster Vindi -something…”
    “ Vindicator ?”
    “Aye, that’s the one: The Mid-Ulster Vindicator . You’ll get it down in Minnie Sproule’s on a Thursday.”
    A long ash had formed on Jamie’s cigarette as he listened. The smoke issued up from it in a thin column and dissipated toward the ceiling, staining it a little more.
    “I see,” he said, powdering the floor with ash. “Y’know, I might take a wee look at it if I mind.”
    The combined smoke from the cigarettes, hearth and recent cooking had commingled to fill the small space, like a medium’s ectoplasm at a séance. So muggy was it that Paddy had difficulty seeing Jamie’s expression, but he sensed it to be favorable.
    “Aye, no harm in lookin’, Jamie.” Paddy was relieved that he’d got the awkward news delivered and was also pleased that Jamie seemed to be amenable to the idea. He couldn’t wait to report back to Rose. “Naw, no harm in lookin’ atall, atall. And Rose sez…Rose sez, you’re a fine lookin’ fella, Jamie, an’ she sez…she sez it’d be a shame if you’d to spend your whole life lookin’ at the…lookin’ at the…at the…”
    “The fire?” Jamie said, while looking at the fire.
    “Aye, the fire.”
    There was another slack silence. Shep, sensing that the conversation had finished, labored up onto his paws and wandered out the door.
    “Rose is right about that,” Jamie said thoughtfully, from behind his wall of pained repression. The wall from which Paddy had just removed the first brick, leaving a chink through which Rose could reach to help build for Jamie a whole, hitherto unimagined future.

Chapter four
     
    “ T he doctor will see you now, Mr. McCloone.”
    Jamie, head buried in the back pages of the Mid-Ulster Vindicator , failed to hear the summons. For the past few minutes he’d been dissolving the remains of a cinnamon lozenge, while his eyes roamed the “Lonely Hearts” column in wonder and amazement. So many faceless women demanded his attention; so many pleading ladies waited behind the newsprint to be claimed. He had never come across the like of it before.
    “Mr. McCloone!”
    Jamie jumped, tried to fumble the paper shut, but it fell to the floor in a heap. Florid-faced and flustered, he got down on his knees to retrieve it, aware that Miss Mulligan, the receptionist, was advancing across the floor. He’d barely got the last of the pages in order when