The Bachelors by Muriel Spark Page B

the breath invariably
put the girls off, and so provided a mighty fortress against the devil and a
means of avoiding an occasion of sin. Matthew was not sure, however, that Elsie
called for the onion altogether. She was not very pretty. But you never knew
when a girl might show the charm she had within her. And again, the onion might
be useful for the supper, to mix with the mince-meat. There wasn’t another
onion left in the box.
    Was
there not another onion left in the box? Matthew decided that this would be the
testing point: if there was a miraculous onion in the vegetable box which could
be used in the supper he would, before he went to fetch Elsie from the bus, eat
the raw onion he had peeled upon the table; if there was no onion in the box he
would risk having Elsie to the flat with a clean breath. He looked in the box.
A small shrivelled onion nestled in the earthy corner among the remaining
potatoes. He lifted this poor thing, looked at it, pondered whether it was big
enough for the supper. He thought perhaps he should peel and eat this little
onion and leave the larger one for the cooking.
    But
then he recalled his previous lapses from grace, and the exact terms of the vow
he had made before looking into the box. He thought lustfully of Elsie who
would soon be coming back with him to the flat. He seized the peeled onion off
the table, ate it rapidly like a man, dabbed his eyes and his brow with his
handkerchief, and set off to wait for Elsie at the bus stop.
    As if
forewarning her, he gave her a breathy kiss when she alighted. She drew back
only a little; in fact she took it very well.
    He let
her go first up the stairs to his flat and was filled with delight as he
followed her small hips, which moved at his eye-level.
    ‘Nice
room,’ she said. ‘Is that your mother over there?’
    ‘Yes,
and this is my elder brother and that’s my sister with her husband on their
honeymoon. I’ll put on the light, wait and you’ll see them better. My sister’s
got three children. My younger brother is married, too, but my elder brother
isn’t.’ He passed the photographs one by one. ‘This is the National University
of Ireland, Galway, where I was till 1950,’ said Matthew, and then he poured
out the gin. ‘That’s my cousin that was killed in the war, fighting for Great
Britain.’
    ‘Would
you have anything in the gin?’ Matthew said. ‘There’s orange juice or water.’
    ‘I’ll
have it neat,’ Elsie said, ‘and by God I need it.’ She placed the photographs
aside. ‘Alice was ill last night and I was on alone at the coffee bar till
twelve. Why didn’t you come in?’
    ‘I was
on duty,’ Matthew said. ‘I’m always on duty on Saturday nights.’
    ‘Well,
before I left the shop I rang up Alice to see how she felt and she was in such
a state I had to go round and see her. Patrick didn’t come home.’
    ‘What’s
wrong with her?’ Matthew said.
    ‘She’s
expecting a baby. She’s got diabetes. And the man she’s living with’s no good.’
    ‘Can’t
something be done about the diabetes? ‘Matthew said.
    ‘She
has to take injections every day. The man wants her to get rid of the baby.’
    ‘She
shouldn’t do that.’
    ‘She
won’t do it.’
    ‘Yes, she
looks a nice girl,’ Matthew said. ‘Who’s the man?’
    ‘Patrick
Seton — he’s the medium.’
    Matthew
thought she meant go-between, so he said, ‘But who’s the man?’
    ‘He’s
the man — Patrick Seton, he’s a medium.’
    ‘Oh, a
spiritualist?’
    ‘Yes,
he’s a wonderful medium. But he’s no good to Alice. Weak as water. He’s
supposed to be getting a divorce from his wife and then he’ll marry Alice. But
I don’t believe he’s getting a divorce. I don’t believe there’s any wife. And
there’s a case coming up against him on Tuesday for embezzlement or something
like that. He’s been up before the magistrates once already, but the police
didn’t have their evidence ready. Suppose he gets a