Where the Rain Gets In (24 page)

“I don’t believe . . . ” Mike began. “I
can’t believe that she really wants to die. But I’m scared now that she’s got
no control over it one way or the other.”

Katie said nothing because there was
nothing to say.

“I should have said stubborn,” said
Mike. “When I was describing her to you, I forgot to tell you how stubborn she
can be.” He wiped away his tears with the heel of his hands. “But this surely
is taking the piss?”

“She wants to teach you a lesson,” said
Katie.

“That’s some fucking lesson,” said Mike.
“Enough, already.”

“She’ll decide when it’s enough.”

“But I can’t believe,” said Mike, “I
can’t believe she’d deliberately kill herself just to make sure we got the
message. I know I’ve hurt her, and I know she’s hurting, but what kind of a
mind can see it through for that long?”

“A determined one,” said Katie, “but
you’re right not to give up – she’s depending on you for that.”

“I don’t know what to think or believe.”

“You can believe that she needs you,”
said Katie. “And that she needs her mother.”

Mike looked away.

“Where’s Margaret in all of this?” asked
Katie.

Mike didn’t reply. Katie gave him a
minute or two, but he still said nothing.

“Mike,” said Katie, “what about
Margaret? Tell me about Margaret.”

Mike looked up at Katie and then away
again.

“Mike!”

“Margaret refuses to go and see
Katherine,” he said eventually. “She refuses to talk about Katherine, or to
accept that this is happening. She’s shut herself down completely where
Katherine is concerned.”

“Oh Mike,” said Katie and then, “Oh
God.”

“Exactly,” said Mike.

“Because she thinks she’s to blame?”

“You’d have to ask her that,” said Mike.
“Not that she’s likely to answer you at all.”

“But surely she understands what’s
happening? Where this is going?”

“I guess she does,” said Mike, “but it’s
not enough to change her mind.”

“Oh God,” said Katie again.

“What kind of a person could do that, do
you think?” asked Mike. “What kind of a mother could shut herself off from her
own daughter?”

Katie excused herself and went to the
bathroom. She had to get away from Mike to think at all clearly about this. She
looked at herself in the mirror. She was alone in the room.

Poor Mike, she thought. Mike Maguire,
and the women in his life.

“Poor Katherine,” she said out loud.

And poor Margaret – Katie couldn’t begin
to think what Margaret might be going through.

She returned to Mike.

“I forgot to tell you,” said Mike, when
Katie sat down, “though you might already have guessed. I named Katherine after
you. No one else knows – except perhaps Eugene – because they don’t need to
know, and it wouldn’t make any sense to tell them anyhow. But I know, and it’s
important to me, for what it’s worth. I had hoped to be able to tell you some
day. Not like this though; I didn’t picture it ever being like this.”

“What about your sons?” asked Katie.
“Are they not old enough to help out?”

“They are,” said Mike, “but I’m not sure
I want them to see their sister in the state she’s in.”

“But they’re going to have to be told,”
said Katie. “And sooner rather than later, I’d have thought.”

“I know, but it’s got to the point where
I don’t know what’s best to do about telling Jack and Mike junior. I’m sure if
I told them that Katherine was sick, they’d both want to come home.”

“And is that such a bad thing?” asked
Katie. “Why have you left it so long?”

“Because Margaret asked me not to get in
touch with them,” said Mike. “She didn’t want the two boys to be dragged into
our arguments, and I . . . I thought she was right – or, at least, I did at the
time. Now I’m not so sure what to do.”

“If Katherine’s as sick as you say,”
said Katie, “you’re going to have to let them know, and fuck whatever Margaret
might think.”

“I agree,” said Mike, “only it’s still
difficult to go against Margaret’s wishes, even if I don’t necessarily agree
with her. Plus, I wanted to speak to you first.”

Yes, but why? thought Katie. Why?

“Mike,” she said, “I’m flattered that
you should want to tell me. And I’m sorry to hear about your daughter – really
sorry.”

Mike shrugged.

“I don’t know why you had to go about it
in such a crazy way,” said Katie, “but then that’s you all over. Perhaps you’re
right – I might have refused to see you if you’d told me straight out why you
were here. Whatever – it’s done now, and I’m glad you came; but I don’t know
what else I can do for you. There’s nothing I can say that would make it any
better. You need to be with your daughter, Mike, in Manchester, and not here in
Dublin with me.”

“I’ll be back there soon enough,” said
Mike. “I appreciate you agreeing to meet me – I know it wasn’t easy. And for
listening to me – there aren’t many people I can talk to about this, apart from
Katherine’s doctors of course.”

Mike hesitated for a second or two.

“I have something else to ask of you, though,”
he said. “Something more than just listening.”

“I’m not sure what else I can do for you
here,” said Katie.

“It’s not here that I’m looking for your
help,” said Mike. “I want you to come back with me to Manchester and talk to
Katherine.”

Katie looked at Mike.

“I wouldn’t be able to do that,” she
said.

“That’s what I came here to ask,” said
Mike.

“Well then, no. I’m sorry, but no.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I don’t need a reason,” said Katie. “I
just can’t, is all – and I don’t know what good you think it might do. I don’t
know Katherine and she doesn’t know me; if she won’t respond to you, she’s
hardly likely to respond to me.”

“I think she might,” said Mike.

“Because you’re desperate,” said Katie,
“but you’re wrong. She needs you and she needs her mother, not some stranger
that she’s never met. She needs her mother.”

“She hasn’t got her mother.”

“Her brothers, then,” said Katie. “And
if you can’t bring yourself to ask them, she’s going to need her father all the
more. Look, Mike, if I’ve helped by being here – ”

“You have.”

“But you have to get back to Katherine
now. What did you think I could do?”

Mike was about to reply, but Katie
carried on speaking.

“I don’t know what you thought this might
have to do with me,” she said. “It’s mixed up in your head with the regrets
over your marriage. So you want out of whatever mess you and Margaret are in –
fine, but you know I’m not the answer. I wasn’t right for you back then, and I
wouldn’t be right now. As I said, I’m flattered that you thought to come
looking for me, but you’ve got to get back to your daughter. Go home, Mike; go
home now, before it’s too late.”

“That’s not why I’m here, Katie,” said Mike.
“I loved you then and, seeing you now, I think I could love you still; but
that’s not why I’m here. I’ll say it again – I want you to come back to
Manchester with me and talk to Katherine.”

“I’m not going back to Manchester,” said
Katie.

“You know why I’m asking you,” said
Mike.

“No, I don’t know – tell me why.”

“Because I think you know of a way to
reach Katherine.”

“Why would I know of a way to reach
Katherine when you can’t?”

“I don’t know,” said Mike, “and you know
I don’t know, and you can hide behind that if you want to, but you know why I’m
asking you and you know why I think you can help.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said
Katie. “You’re talking in riddles.”

“Okay then,” said Mike, “here it is in
plain English – from an Irishman living in England to an English woman living
in Ireland. You’ve been living through some pain your whole life and I don’t
know what that pain might be. I hoped I could save you from that pain and I
failed, and now I think I’m going to fail Katherine in the very same way that I
failed you.”

Katie didn’t speak.

“Whatever the pain is that you’ve been
going through,” said Mike, “I think it could help you to reach my daughter.”

Katie still didn’t speak.

“You’re right,” said Mike, “I am
desperate. But desperate people do desperate things. I don’t know why I believe
this might help Katherine, but I do.”

He sat and waited for an answer.

“You didn’t fail,” said Katie,
eventually.

M
argaret had anticipated finishing her
morning session in Alderley Edge, and then having lunch in Didsbury on her way
to the afternoon appointment in Withington. It made sense in terms of the
travel involved. It would also have kept her busy and on the move; the last
thing she wanted to do was languish at home. But because she had left home in a
hurry – grabbing the opportunity and excuse to avoid Eugene – she now had to
drive all the way back to pick up what she needed for the afternoon.

Margaret took the motorway and resigned
herself to her change of plan. The drive gave her time to assess how her morning
session had gone. She felt drained – as she always did after counselling – and
could quite easily have fallen into a deep sleep. She worried sometimes how it
was possible to slip into the traffic of three or four lanes of motorway, and
not even think about the mechanics of driving. She could travel for ten or
fifteen miles, and not remember making a single conscious decision to take this
exit, or merge with that lane. Every now and again, Margaret would resolve to
concentrate only on driving, but it was so monotonous that she couldn’t keep it
up for longer than a minute. She knew it was dangerous, and wondered how many
other cars were being driven in this way.

Her client in Alderley Edge was unusual
in that he was a man. It wasn’t that men didn’t need counselling; it was just
unusual for a man to actually seek it out. Especially in a case such as this:
the man’s partner was the sole wage earner and was not prepared to accept that
his self-esteem might have been threatened by the reversal in roles. He was in
his late-forties and couldn’t get back into the work habit after having been
made redundant; he was doing volunteer work at the local charity shop, which he
believed his partner privately thought was ridiculous. Her career had gone from
strength to strength once the children were grown, and he’d become obsessed
with the possibility that she was having an affair at work.

Margaret had seen him three times now.
She’d immediately recommended joint counselling, but the man’s partner wasn’t
interested. Margaret knew this was a major obstacle if they hoped to resolve
their differences together – so much so, that today she’d switched away from
that approach altogether.

“I think you have to focus on what is
right for you,” she said. “If you can’t work this out together, you’re going to
have to do it on your own.”

Margaret liked the man, and could see he
had a lot of things going for him. His decision to do charity work while he got
back on his feet was a positive thing, she thought – easily dismissed, but it
showed he had at least some self-worth.

“I wouldn’t normally put it in exactly
this way,” she said, “but I think you have to be prepared to accept that you
might be better off on your own.”

Margaret’s client looked up sharply when
she said this.

“I know my job here is to help you find
a way to make your relationship work,” she said, “but there’s very little point
in having a relationship with someone who doesn’t care about how you feel.”

Margaret thought about this in her car
on the motorway. She’d have to write this up clearly and make sure she was
taking the right approach. Had she over-stepped the line in guiding rather than
accompanying her client? She’d have to ask when she was next in college.

Margaret turned off the motorway, headed
into Stretford, and then on to Longford Park. Margaret drove along her road,
and looked to see if there was space to park outside the house. She was
irritated to see Eugene’s BMW parked two houses down and Eugene in it, sat
waiting for her return. She drove into an empty parking space, but she did it
badly and was mad at herself for not reversing in properly. She left her notes
from the morning on the seat beside her, picked up her bag and got out the car.
She walked across the road, into her own front garden, and up the few steps to
door.

“Margaret,” said Eugene from the
gateway.

“Eugene,” said Margaret, and unlocked
the door. She spoke without turning around. “You can be arrested for less, you
know.”

“I . . . I – ”

“Don’t tell me,” said Margaret. “You
really want to speak to me.”