Read Online The Memory Tree by Tess Evans - Free Book Online

visitor.
    ‘No. Why do you ask?’
    ‘Just thought I heard you talking to someone.’
    ‘Must’ve been the radio,’ Hal mumbled. And the subject wasn’t mentioned again.
    Mrs McLennon was only human and she began to wonder about the locked room. Finally, with the pretext of cleaning the windows she climbed a ladder and worked her way along to Hal’s retreat. The curtains were not drawn, and after staring in disbelief, she climbed back down, her face puckered.
    ‘Pictures of her everywhere. And holy pictures. All of Mary.’ Mrs McLennon appealed to her sister. ‘What should I do, Alice? It’s not natural.’
    Alice poured the tea thoughtfully. ‘He’s in mourning, remember. I’ve heard of other people doing the same sort of thing. Remember when the Morgans lost Ben in that car accident? Maura was telling me that they left his room exactly the way it was. Just closed the door and left it. Didn’t even tidy up first.’ She bit into her vanilla slice. ‘People do funny things when they’re grieving.’
    ‘So you don’t think I should say anything?’
    Alice was the pragmatic one. ‘It’s his business, Eil. You’ve got a good job there. And what about the kids? If he thinks you’ve been snooping around . . .’
    So Mrs McLennon said nothing and Hal became haggard as he sat in his chair each night, waiting for his wife. The Madonnas, the photos of Paulina, all were remote. Indifferent. They looked down at him with empty eyes, mocking his grief. One night, he couldn’t stand it any longer. He leaped to his feet and began to pull down the pictures, clear away the statues. One by one, he flung them into a cardboard carton. Finally, he reached up to the poster, but his hand fell to his side. No. He couldn’t bring himself to take that down. That picture held Paulina’s essence.
    ‘I’m sorry, Paulina. I meant to keep you safe.’
    In less than an hour, the room was back to its original austerity, but when he left for work the next morning, he decided to keep it locked. It was the one place in his rambling house he could find the solitude he increasingly craved.
    But he couldn’t give up on Paulina.
    You must try harder , the Voice said. Your efforts are pathetic.
    I just need time , Hal pleaded. Give me more time .
    After dinner one night, he sat down heavily on the bed. What had he been thinking? As he had said to Father Murphy, no prayers, no ritual would bring her back. He had not looked after her properly and she’d left him. And well she might. It was the nature of things. Sin entails penance.
    Over the next few weeks, Hal read all he could find on penance. Like the Inquisitors, he favoured physical punishment. A few Hail Marys was a penance for children and the faint-hearted. He finally settled on fasting or flagellation. He still needed to operate in the world, so fasting wasn’t a long-term option. So by default, flagellation became his penance of choice.
    He slipped into Handee Hardware and examined the range of ropes. The Carmelites suggested a soft rope that wouldn’t break the skin. He took it home and knotted it; he wanted to feel pain. Then he waited. The following Monday, while Mrs McLennon was at bingo and the children were doing their homework, Hal began his penance. He sat with the rope on his knees and wondered how it was done.
    ‘Shirt off,’ he mumbled to himself. ‘Singlet.’ He looked at the little pile of clothes on the floor, decided he felt a bit silly in his shoes and removed those as well. He peeled off his socks, and stared for a bit at his long, bony feet. He left his Y-fronts on. That was a blessing, at least.
    ‘Okay, then.’ He swung the rope experimentally over his shoulder. It grazed his ear and fell limply down his back. Try again. His bursitis was hurting more than the rope. Best to try the other hand. Maybe if he swung under his arm and aimed for his lower back . . . That was a bit better but he was sure that pictures he had seen of saints had them doing it the