by Adrian White
Katie was unusually quiet. Even when the talk turned to one of her pet subjects – the crappiness of most TV advertising – Katie appeared distracted and oblivious to the banter at the table.
“I think the worst one I’ve seen recently,” said Carmel, “has to be the ad – they’re a department store, I think – that ends up by claiming that they’re ‘almost nationwide’. I mean, if you’re not completely nationwide, you don’t mention it, do you? It’s like saying – we know what we’re doing, almost, but not quite.” She spoke across Katie to Ronnie, a recent arrival at the company, and one of Katie’s protégés.
“I disagree,” said Ronnie. “The worst one by far has to be for Irish Rail. You know, where they reel off how many more carriages they’re running on each line, and then hit us with the punch line – ‘And more to follow’?”
“Yes,” laughed Carmel. “Like they’re proud of something they haven’t even done yet, and want to tell the world.”
“Somebody, somewhere,” said Ronnie, “decided they should run with that ad.”
“An advertising executive,” said Carmel, “or a room full of advertising executives.”
“Er yeah,” said Ronnie, “right, so we’re all agreed then? We’ll run with the ‘more to follow’ promise?”
“More to follow – almost nationwide,” said Carmel.
Katie was pleased to see Ronnie confident and relaxed at the table – the likes of Carmel were quite intimidating if you didn’t know them – but she couldn’t bring herself to join in. A subject like this was often enough for a few Katie McGuire gems, but not today; she smiled along, but was happy for the coffee break to be over. She took the lift and walked back to the office with Carmel.
“Are you mad at me over that phone call?” Carmel was used to Katie being frank with her; if she was in trouble she wanted to know.
“What – no,” said Katie and walked on.
“Then what the fuck is it?” asked Carmel, and stopped by her desk.
Katie looked up at Carmel.
“Sorry, I . . . ”
“Are you okay? You don’t look too good – is it that Mike?”
“No, no – it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“I can get rid of him, if that’s what you want.”
“No, really, thanks, I’m fine. Put him through when he calls. I’m sorry if I was being rude. It’s just . . . ”
“A surprise to hear from him?”
“Yes, you could say that.”
“Well, as I said – he seems nice.”
Katie smiled.
“Oh yes,” she said. “He’s that alright.”
Carmel’s phone rang. Katie looked up at the time; it was exactly ten-thirty.
“You’d best put him through,” she said to Carmel. She walked into her office and closed the door.
“Mike?”
“Katie, how are you? Thanks for taking my call.”
“I had to – if only to get my assistant to do some work today.”
“I’m sorry about that. I thought if I let her go I’d never get through to speak to you. Would you apologise to Carmel on my behalf?”
Katie could hear the nervousness in Mike’s voice.
“On your behalf? Yes, I’ll apologise to Carmel on your behalf. Why are you calling, Mike?”
“Well,” he said, “I’m here in Dublin today, and I thought we might meet up – if you’d like to, that is.”
“We agreed never to contact each other again,” she said. “Under any circumstances – do you remember? So why are you calling me?”
“But that was such a long time ago,” said Mike. “And I’m in Dublin so rarely these days. I saw your column in the paper yesterday – it’s very good, you know – and I thought, well, why not? You’re such a public figure now – what harm could it do to get in touch?”
“Cut the crap, Mike! I want to know why you called. We had an agreement and you just broke it – why?”
Katie knew how easy it was to get sucked into Mike’s pleasantries; she knew how overwhelming they could be.
“But Katie,” he said, “does all that really matter any more?”
“I asked you a question,” said Katie. “If you’re not going to be straight with me then I’m hanging up, and you won’t be put through again. You have one minute to explain why you called before I put down the phone.”
“Katie – ”
“One minute, Mike.”
Katie watched the second hand tick around the face of the clock on her wall. A minute wasn’t long enough to get a grip on hearing Mike’s voice again; not long enough to come to terms with Mike getting back in touch. The very mention of his name – Nice Guy Mike – upset her, and Katie could feel her defences crumbling; defences she’d spent half a lifetime creating. It was a shock rather than a surprise, because she feared the past coming back into her present. She was scared of what that past might drag along with it. If she let in the past, she let in worry and anxiety; she let in guilt and regret, and, if she was honest with herself, she let in loneliness. So she used the minute’s silence to reconstruct the barriers in her mind. She breathed deeply and deliberately.
“Katie.”
Mike spoke exactly on the minute, if only to stop Katie putting down the phone.
“Why did you call?” she asked. More silence. “Mike?”
“I’m in trouble, Katie. I’m in trouble, and I need your help.”
“We agreed never to contact each other,” repeated Katie.
“I know, but – ”
“We agreed for this very reason – that if either of us were in trouble, we wouldn’t drag each other down. And now you’re here, phoning me at my workplace; you’re setting up a connection, a lead, from you to me. Where are you calling from?”
“From a public phone box, in the lobby of a hotel.”
“Where people can hear you?”
“No, it’s quiet.”
“And you were using that same phone to speak to Carmel? How did you pay for the call? You weren’t pumping coins into the slot for an hour – your credit card?” Mike didn’t reply.
“Are you fucking stupid, Mike? I’m putting down the phone – don’t call me again.”
“Don’t go, Katie, please – I need your help.”
“You never needed anyone’s help, Mike, least of all mine. Whatever you’re playing at, I’m not interested. These are the exact circumstances in which you – you, Mike – said not to call. This was your rule and you made me swear to it. God knows there were times . . . I could have tracked you down because I needed you, but I didn’t. And now you’re doing what we swore we’d never do, and knowing you Mike, knowing you, there’s another reason behind this and I don’t want to know.”
“You don’t take much tracking down,” said Mike. “All I have to do is open the newspaper and you’re there.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to contact me, it doesn’t mean all bets are off. Maybe I thought it safer to keep a high profile. What isn’t safe is for you to call me at the first sign of trouble.”
“I received a letter from the FBI,” said Mike.
“What?”
“The FBI – they wrote to me, telling me I’d be receiving a subpoena to appear in a U.S. court of law.”
“Bullshit!”
“Bullshit or not, they know who I am.”
“Counting cards in Vegas isn’t a crime,” said Katie.
“You know as well as I do this isn’t about counting cards in Vegas. I’m a U.S. citizen, remember; I could end up doing a serious amount of time in prison.”
“Yeah, but you’re also a British citizen – and an Irish one too, come to that – I can’t imagine them prosecuting you.”
“They don’t like being made fools of,” said Mike.
“It was over twenty years ago; they’re hardly going to pursue you after all this time.”
“But they are doing, aren’t they? We fucked them over and they don’t like it. And what I hear about U.S. prisons,
I don’t much like either.”
“You’re not going to prison, Mike.”
“We messed with their precious system, and we cheated them out of their money. There’s nothing they care more about than their money.”
“But it wasn’t even that much,” said Katie. “I mean, it was a lot of money at the time, but by today’s standards it was nothing.”
“We proved it could be done – that’s what’s pissing them off.”
“You proved it could be done,” corrected Katie. “I just went along for the ride.”
“And the money,” said Mike.
“Yes, the money, but until you called there was no connection from me to that money. I’m not the one being subpoenaed.”
“I’m scared,” said Mike.
“Bullshit again,” said Katie. “I don’t know what it is you’re up to Mike but – ”
“I’m not up to anything. I just need to see you; I need to talk to you.”
“You want to meet?”
“Yes, I’m in Dublin today, and I want to see you. I’m in the Gresham. I’ll be here until three this afternoon. If you ask at reception, they’ll let you know where to find me. I understand if you – ”
“No,” said Katie. “You can’t do that, Mike. I have a life here; you can’t just walk back into it and ask to see me again – not after twenty years.”
“I know how it must look, and I don’t do it lightly – ”
“I don’t care how lightly you’re doing it – the answer’s no. I have too much to lose here for it to be fucked up by you. I appreciate everything you did for me Mike, but that was a long time ago and I can’t go back there.”
“Please Katie – ”
“No! I’m going now Mike, and I don’t want you to call again.”
She put down the phone and looked at the receiver. She looked at the receiver for a long time. It didn’t ring again until Carmel called through to remind Katie she had a meeting scheduled for eleven; everybody was here waiting.
Part 2
Katie first met Mike on the day she started college. She was twenty years old and nervous. She shuffled along in a line of law students, and waited to collect her timetable for the year. There was a lot of noise in the corridor – a lot of loud and anxious conversation. Everybody seemed to know everybody else, and Katie couldn’t understand how. It didn’t occur to her that they might be as nervous and as apprehensive as Katie was, and show it in a different way. All she saw was a confidence that bordered on arrogance; unlike Katie, they had every right to be there.
This was Katie’s first real contact with a massed body of university students, and she wasn’t too sure what to expect. The morning had been reassuringly anonymous – she registered with the university, was issued with a library card, and directed to the Bursar’s office to pick up her grant. She did what was asked of her, and retreated to her flat in Hulme for lunch. But the afternoon was different: this was her introduction to the Law department. If she was determined to go through with this – and she was – she had to learn how to talk to these people. So she watched and listened and waited in line.
A desk was set up outside a lecture theatre. Three employees from the Law department – the secretary and two of her assistants – gave each student a seminar and lecture timetable, and directed them into the theatre. Katie had deliberately toned down her usual clothes – she wore her black combats, a plain top, and her leather jacket – but she could see immediately that her appearance made the secretary uncomfortable. Katie had hacked her hair short with scissors before leaving for the college that morning; that might have been okay, but she also insisted on wearing an open razor blade on a chain around her neck. It was this that was freaking out the secretary.
“McGuire,” said Katie, as she stepped up to the desk. “Katie McGuire.”
The student next to Katie looked up and smiled.
“Really?” he said. “My name’s Maguire.” He turned back to the secretary’s assistant. “Mike Maguire,” he said.
The coincidence of the names was too much for the secretary to let go.
“Now what are the chances of that?” she asked, beaming. “Out of all these people – you’re not related, are you? No, you spell your names differently, I see.”
The other student held out his hand to Katie.
“I’m Mike,” he said. “I’m an M-A-G Maguire; I take it you’re an M-C-G?”
Katie saw the outstretched hand, but didn’t know what to do. Well, she knew she should shake his hand, but she didn’t expect the boy to be so formally polite – it didn’t seem a very student-like thing to do. And he was just a boy – Katie knew she was a year or two older than most first years, but this Mike looked to be about fifteen. Yet he had the assurance of a twenty year-old that Katie could only wish for.
“How do you do?” he asked. He had an incredibly strong accent – so much so, that even these few words were almost incomprehensible to Katie. What she heard was ‘Hadjadae?’ – or ‘Had your day?’And what had he said about her name? She reached for the timetable information from the secretary, and walked away without saying a word. She went through to the lecture theatre, and took the first seat she saw available.
Katie had never been in such a room before. She took in the tiered seating and the amphitheatre shape, and noticed how the shelf on which she rested her arms would double as a desk on which to make notes. The noise in here was even more intimidating. Everybody but Katie seemed to be talking to somebody. She looked around, but only caught the eye of Mike as he walked into the room. She quickly turned away, but Mike wasn’t to be put off. He made his way over to Katie, and sat down next to her.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything about your name. Maybe we can start over?”
“What,” snapped Katie, “you think the way I spell my name says something about me – is that it?”
“No, I didn’t mean – ”
“I don’t know about where you come from,” she said, “but it means fuck all here,” she said.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m – ”
But his politeness made Katie all the ruder.
“Listen,” she said. “I can’t understand a single fucking word you’re saying, okay? So don’t bother.”
“Oh,” he said. “Oh,” and turned away.
Shit, thought Katie, what a great start. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. And now she had to sit next to this guy for at least the next twenty minutes. There were just so many people here – it reminded her of school and that wasn’t good. She closed her eyes in an attempt to shut out the noise – to shut out the memories of classrooms gone by – but this was never going to work.
Only when someone approached the podium down below did the room quieten down. A young female lecturer said a few words of welcome and a brief explanation of the difference in study methods now they were at university.
“This is perhaps the only time you’ll all be here in the one place together,” she said. “If you don’t attend the lectures, no one will ever know but yourself – until, of course, it becomes obvious that you can’t keep up with your course work. Seminars and tutorials are a different matter and are compulsory; failure to attend means failure of the course.”
There had to be some doddery old lecturers somewhere within the Law department, but for today at least they were being kept under wraps. The woman below was young enough to remember what it was like to be only starting out as an undergraduate.
“You’ll receive no direction during the year in how to study,” she continued. “If I have any advice to give you now, it’s this: make the library your home, and read and learn every case history you can. The whole of English law is in those cases. From here on in it’s up to you. How you get the reading done is up to you. How you get the essays in on time is up to you. You’re on your own – so good luck.”
This suited Katie. She’d spent the past four years studying on her own, and now
she’d signed up for four more. If today was unusual – an aberration – perhaps Katie could just keep her head down and do the work? But if it were like this every day she arrived for a lecture, she’d have to find a better way of coping. She’d handled today badly, and didn’t want the next time to be so bad. It was one thing to keep a low profile, but quite another to attract attention to herself by being so obsessively private. She knew she’d been rude, and turned back to the guy sat next to her, to Mike.
“So many people,” she said. The noise and conversation started up again as the lecturer left the podium.
“Not for long,” said Mike.
“What do you mean?” asked Katie.
“Well, they deliberately start with too many students. If they have too large an intake, they can fail who they like throughout the year.”
“What do you mean?” asked Katie again.
“You heard what the woman said – they’ll fail about a third of us before the first year is out.”
“But how do you know?” asked Katie. “Why would they do that?”
“How many people are here?” asked Mike. “About three hundred – that’s the number of places available on the course. And only two hundred graduate from this department every year. It’s there in the maths.”
“But why?”
“So they can be sure of who they graduate. It’s like a second recruitment process; it gets rid of anyone they think isn’t up to the course.”
This was news to Katie and a shock; it must have shown on her face.
“Don’t worry,” said Mike, “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
Katie knew it would be hard at college, but she hadn’t reckoned on such a high chance of failure. Having got there against the odds – studying alone, catching up on the years of lost schooling, applying for one of the toughest possible courses – it looked as though her battle wasn’t over yet. And her first day hadn’t been such a success. She just didn’t know how to act with other people; she couldn’t go through this every time she met someone new.