Where the Rain Gets In (10 page)

Katie knew that Bruno would appear at
some point on the night of the party; she just didn’t want it to be at the
White Horse.

“He feels really bad about that day at
the gym,” said Mike.

“And so he should,” said Katie. “I just
don’t see how you – ”

“Yes, yes, I know,” said Mike. “You
don’t know why I bother with Bruno. But he thinks the world of you, you know.”

“And he thinks a stunt like that will
make me like him more?”

“He’s trying to get your attention,”
said Mike. “He wants you to at least notice him once in a while.”

“Is he stupid?” asked Katie.

“No,” said Mike, “he’s not stupid, but
he loses the run of himself when you’re around. He doesn’t know how to cope
with you – just as you don’t know how to cope with him.”

Katie knew that sooner or later she had
to come clean with Bruno, and let him know that nothing was ever going to happen
between them. She knew he wouldn’t be as understanding as Mike; Bruno could
never have a relationship with a woman without sex.

But later, when he arrived at the party,
Bruno was quiet and almost respectful of being in Katie’s home. When he took
the time to talk to Katie properly – as he had at the Buzzcocks concert – she
found him to be good company and a breath of fresh air. At times like this,
Katie liked having Bruno around; he lent an edge to their group, and suddenly
the party was alive and full of potential.

“I’m so sorry about the gym,” he said to
Katie. “It was a stupid thing to do, and I apologise.”

“It’s nothing to do with me,” said
Katie. “It’s the other members you should be apologising to.”

“I know, I know,” said Bruno, “and I
have. I’ve spoken to everybody who was there, and I’ve written to the gym to
apologise. They say they’re reviewing my membership.”

“But why would you do such a thing?”
asked Katie.

Bruno shook his head.

“I don’t know. Sometimes I just . . .
lose it.”

Well, Katie could understand that.

“But what a thing to say,” she said.

“I know,” said Bruno. “It was
unforgivable – and I’m sorry.”

But by the end of the party, Bruno had
reverted to type. As people left, the farewells were full of drunken assurances
to meet up again through the summer. Katie played along, though she knew it was
just so much bullshit. She was too tired for goodbyes. Mike was asleep on the
sofa, and Katie wished he’d wake up; he’d pick up on her mood and know how to
get rid of the few remaining guests. Everybody was going back to the security
of their parents’ house and summer jobs and, perhaps, holiday trips abroad.
Mike was returning to Belfast as part of his agreement to work for the firm
sponsoring him through college; only Katie and Bruno were staying in
Manchester, just as they had at Christmas.

Bruno walked through to the kitchen and
grabbed a six-pack of beer from the fridge. Katie was in the hallway, saying
goodbye to Eugene, and Bruno pushed past to leave.

“Oh right,” said Katie, “just take the
last of the beer, why don’t you?”

Bruno turned at the door.

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“It’s not like you brought anything with
you in the first place,” said Katie.

Bruno dropped the cans to the floor. He
grabbed Katie by the neck, and pinned her to the wall of the hallway. Katie’s
feet were lifted from the ground, and she struggled to take her weight on her
toes. She couldn’t breathe because of Bruno’s grip on her throat. He had his
other arm drawn back to hit her.

“You sh-shouldn’t,” said Eugene, and tried
to block Bruno’s fist.

“Fuck off, Eugene!” said Bruno.

“Bruno!” shouted Mike. He ran through
from the other room.

Bruno stared at Katie.

“Let her go,” said Mike. “Put her down.”

Bruno shifted his grip so he held Katie
up by her jaw. She could breathe, but she was still unable to reach the floor
with her toes. She spoke to Bruno through her clenched teeth.

“Go on, then,” she said. “Fucking do it,
why don’t you? Get it over with, you cunt!”

“I fucking will, you bitch!” said Bruno.

“Bruno!” shouted Mike.

Bruno lowered his arm and relaxed his
grip on Katie. She slumped against the wall.

“Give me a cigarette,” he said to
Eugene.

“I – I don’t have one,” said Eugene. “I
don’t smoke.”

“Here,” said Mike and offered a packet
to Bruno. “Now calm down, for Christ’s sake.”

Bruno took a cigarette, lit it, and drew
heavily on it. He stared down at Katie and she stared back. Everybody stayed as
they were, and waited for Bruno to decide what to do. He took three long drags
on the cigarette, and threw the butt out the open front door.

“Thanks for the party,” he said, and
leant down to pick up the cans of beer.

“Leave the beer,” said Katie.

Bruno shook his head.

“If Mike wasn’t here, you’d be dead,” he
said to Katie.

“I know,” said Katie, “you’re a hard
man; we all know. But I still want my beer.”

Bruno shrugged and laughed, and then
walked out the door.

“Katie!” shouted Mike. “Let him go –
it’s not worth it.”

Katie sensed Eugene trembling next to
her by the door, and she turned her attention to him.

“It’s okay,” she said to him, “it’s
okay.” She led Eugene back into the flat and sat him down. The others in the
room mumbled their farewells to Katie and Mike. The party was over now, that
was for sure.

“Would you like me to stay?” asked Mike.

“No, I’d like you to make sure Eugene
gets home okay.”

“I want to stay,” said Mike. “I could
take Eugene home and then come back. I could help you clear up.”

Katie shook her head. They both knew
what he was talking about.

“I don’t want you to,” she said. “I want
to be on my own.”

When they’d left, she stood in the
hallway where Bruno had pinned her to the wall. She’d been scared, but she’d
felt something else too and she finally understood her relationship with Bruno.
For a brief moment, she had wanted him to touch her. If he’d lowered his arm
and touched her, with his fingers and not his fist, or maybe even his lips, she
wouldn’t have stopped him – even with Mike there, so close by. She reached up
now to her own lips and smiled.

Well now, there’s a thing, she thought.

But nobody would ever know, and she’d
never let herself be caught out like that again.

The summer gave them all a chance to
cool off. Mike arranged for Katie to work for his American company, or a
subsidiary of them, in Manchester.

“Why would I want to work for an investment
banker?” she asked.

“Why not – what else are you going to
do?” said Mike. “I doubt there’s a case of English law you haven’t read and
memorized and anyway, don’t you need the money?”

This last was a consideration – Katie
was tired of just existing. Three months was a long time to wait before her
next grant cheque, and signing on for the dole seemed like a step back into
dependency, back into care.

“But why would they want me?” she asked.

“Because I told them how suitable you
are,” said Mike.

“On what grounds? I don’t even know what
they do.”

“On the grounds that every workplace is
the same.”

“And what would you know about that?”
asked Katie. “You’re only just out of nappies.”

Mike smiled.

“Ouch,” he said. “Point taken – that
last bit I picked up from my father.”

“And what does he do?” asked Katie.

“He’s a management consultant, so he
knows about these things. He reckons that once you start a job, you find out
just how easy it is and how useful you really are.”

“Have you ever had a job, Mike?”

“Yes,” he said, “I have, but this isn’t
about me. Who knows, you may even like it.”

This was Mike, forcing the issue again;
he wouldn’t allow Katie the easy option of staying hidden away at home.

“Katie,” he said, “you’re studying for a
law degree. If you do nothing else with your life, that’s already more than
most people ever hope to achieve. But what will you do next? I know its several
years away, but what’s going to happen once you graduate? You’re not going to
sit in a flat in Hulme, staring at a graduation certificate pinned to your wall
– or are you? I don’t know – perhaps you want to become some big, flash,
corporate lawyer, or maybe help disadvantaged children – I don’t know, and it
doesn’t really matter. But you’re going to have to learn to live out there in
the world, and this is as good a way as any. Otherwise, what’s the point in
trying in the first place?”

Katie smiled.

“Fine speech, Mike,” she said.

“Well . . . ”

Katie knew he was right and she was glad
that he cared, but in the end it was the money that made up her mind – that and
the fact there were now over two million people on the dole. She was lucky to
be given the option of working, and she found that she liked it. She learnt a
lot and was a natural, it seemed, when it came to the principles of banking.
The company offered to sponsor Katie for the next three years in college. She
told Mike when they met up again after the summer.

“It’s in their own interest,” said Mike.
“They wouldn’t do it unless they saw something in it for them.”

Katie had enjoyed working, but it was
good to be back in college, back to her studies, and good to see her friends
again. Even Bruno was still around, though for now he kept his distance from
Katie. She knew he attended the gym regularly, because she saw his name signed
in at reception, but she never saw him there again. She next saw him a few
weeks into the new term and she was surprised, because it was on campus.

“Did Bruno apply to do another course?”
she asked Mike.

“No, he’s working for me now.”

“Working for you – doing what?”

“I’m starting a listings magazine for
Manchester,” said Mike.

“A what?” asked Katie.

“A listings magazine – like
Time Out
in London.”

“But that’s London,” said Katie. “Is
there enough happening in Manchester to justify a full magazine?”

“Well, we’re going to have articles and
stuff but yes, Manchester has enough going on – more than enough over the next
few years. I got the idea from that concert we went to – or you all went to. If
Manchester’s producing the best bands in the country then people will want to
see them; they won’t want to miss out on what’s happening.”

“But that singer’s dead,” said Katie.
“He hanged himself.”

“That was unfortunate,” said Mike, “but
there are others on the way. And there are new clubs opening; things are
happening, believe me.”

“Yes,” said Katie, “but we never go –
it’s just for the tourists. And when we do go there are only about twenty
people there. It’s hardly what you’d call a movement.”

“You might not go,” said Mike, “but I do
and I tell you, something is definitely happening here. You’re just pissed off
because punk is dead, and you can’t cope with the fact that something new might
be happening without you. Why do you think all these Londoners want to come to
college in Manchester?”

“Okay, okay, I get the point,” said
Katie, “but how do you go about setting up a magazine? And what do you mean –
Bruno’s working for you?”

“I’m responsible for raising the
finance, persuading investors that it’s worth their while.”

“And what does Bruno do – stand beside
you to help persuade them?”

“No,” said Mike. “Bruno’s doing two
things: he’s making sure the venues notify us with details of what’s on, and
he’s working with the writers on their articles for the first edition.”

“The writers?” asked Katie.

“Mostly people in college studying
journalism or suchlike.”

“You mean those wasters that you see in
the coffee bar all day?”

“Yes, those wasters – you know, Katie,
sometimes you’re not very nice. Just because someone doesn’t fit your profile
of the conscientious student, doesn’t mean they have nothing to offer.”

“It sounds like a charity project for
Bruno.”

“As I said – that’s not very nice. I
wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t think it could make me a lot of money.”

“How – how can it make you money?”

“Selling advertising space, selling the
whole magazine if it takes off – though naturally, I haven’t told that to
anybody else.”

Mike was a strange mixture – since
coming back to college, Katie had noticed how much more politicised he’d
become. He was as exercised by the striking steelworkers as he was by events in
the North. Yet self-interest was never far away; accumulating money, legally or
otherwise, was what that drove him on. The idea for the magazine probably
originated as a way to help out Bruno, but Mike couldn’t be involved in
something for long without thinking how it could make money. So while he may
not have liked the direction society was heading, he was ideally placed to
benefit from it.