by Adrian White
Whichever, this was why she was lying alone in her bed. Not that they slept together at all these days – again, Margaret couldn’t. They’d tried to continue sharing their bed but sometimes Mike got so agitated in the night that he prevented them both from sleeping. It made sense on nights like this for Mike to move into Jack’s vacated room. Then, one time when Mike returned from being away, he didn’t even try to share the bed with Margaret and had slept on his own ever since. At least this way they could both sleep through the night. God knows what the kids thought. Margaret had watched her own parents grow apart and yet maintain a workable understanding in front of the children – she’d sworn never to be like her mother but here she was, more alike her than ever. It was even stranger when Mike and she were the only ones left in the house, but even this wasn’t enough of a prompt for them to sleep together again. Margaret couldn’t see how they could ever be close like that again – even if she got over what was happening to her, there was too much history to ever go back to the way things were. Mike's simple solution of just loving each other again irritated the hell out of her.
“I don’t know why you think we can just go back to how we were twenty years ago,” she said.
She knew Mike didn’t mean that, but he didn’t bother to argue the point. She guessed that by now he just accepted it – if she didn’t want him, she didn’t want him.
And Margaret, she could either lay in bed going over and over the same old shit or she could get on with her day, and this was what she chose to do. She was surprised when Mike said he was going to Dublin for the day but she didn’t think it was another defensive manoeuvre; she guessed he had business there after all. Now that she was awake, with little chance of getting back to sleep, she planned the day.
She wasn’t working today – she operated a three-day job share at Withington Hospital – but she had more than enough things to do. She was coming to the end of a professional course in counselling and for the past few months she’d been holding sessions with a handful of clients each week. She had two booked for today, one at eleven and one at two. These were part of her course work and had to be written up in full afterwards. She also had some project work to complete and she hoped to get this done first thing before she went out for the day. She also volunteered at the Rape Crisis Centre when she wasn’t working or at college, mostly afternoons and evenings but with the occasional night shift every few weeks. If Mike wasn’t going to be back until quite late, Margaret could extend her afternoon shift at the Centre and possibly complete her project work there.
The counselling course had finally given Margaret the sense of self-esteem she’d been missing as a nurse. Whatever Mike said about nursing, however hard he’d tried to make her see the worth of what she was doing, Margaret had never valued it as she would, say, studying for a law degree. She’d gone straight into nursing from school, and had always felt in awe of Mike’s education.
“But that’s because you’ve never been to university,” said Mike. “You learn more on the ward in one week than I did in a whole term of college – and it’s a lot more use, believe me.”
“So why do they have degree courses in nursing then?”
“I don’t know,” said Mike. “You’ve said yourself that college nurses have to relearn everything they think they know. And besides, you’ve actually passed all those same exams – you just didn’t go to college to do it.”
There was no telling Margaret. It wasn’t exactly an inferiority thing, because she knew she was a better nurse than any college graduate; it was more a respect for something that she’d never experienced herself. It was very easy for Mike to talk about the idiots and fools he met in college; he was there – studying for a law degree, no less. No amount of talk about drink and drugs and easy-to-pass exams could convince Margaret otherwise. Just as when Mike first came back to Belfast on vacation from college in Manchester; nothing he could say would convince her they’d ever be together. Margaret was in Belfast and Mike was in Manchester; she was from the Falls and he might as well have been from another planet.
But the counselling course was different; it was a natural progression on from nursing and something Margaret could call her own. Her days on the course, away from the job-share at the hospital, really felt like going to college; the exams and course-work were certainly real enough and she was good at it, she knew. Perhaps she’d just needed to be at a certain age to be ready for this? She couldn’t imagine her younger self as having the confidence to embark on a new career.
It wasn’t entirely how Margaret had imagined it – a lot of the newer theory was directed towards the patient working things through alone. As a counsellor, Margaret had to accompany the patient, rather than lead them down the path to recovery. But even if it wasn’t always quite what she’d expected, Margaret was proud of her studies; she liked the discipline of applying what she’d learnt and she was going to stick at it.
She pushed back the covers and stepped down from the bed. It was seven thirty-seven. She went through to the bathroom to take her shower.
Margaret had taken to shaving herself between her legs every day. For years she’d had an ambivalent attitude to shaving under her arms – she liked it when she did and she liked it when she didn’t. Mike said it was very European not to shave under her arms and seemed not to mind – seemed to quite like it in fact. She did her legs every few days and had only never bothered when she was feeling particularly down, when the kids were growing up and it didn’t matter one way or the other. It was always a part of her coming out of a depression, a part of feeling better about herself, and making the effort for her own sake as much as for Mike’s. But these days it was an integral part of her shower. She started shaving between her legs about a year ago after reading how healthy and clean it was meant to be. She continued because she liked how it felt – it felt clean but it also felt a little sexy; a little bit of wild that only Margaret knew about. She knew Mike would like it but they were a long way from that – this had to be for herself.
One of the joys of being alone in the house was walking naked with her towel from the bathroom back to her bedroom; the house was too old to have an en-suite built in and they liked the bedroom too much to ever change it. Margaret picked out her underwear. The older she’d become, the more expensive was her underwear; again, it would have been nice to share how good she looked, but these days she made do with how good she felt. She tended to dress up for her counselling sessions, or dress smartly at least. She had a long skirt that she favoured, and a silk blouse and a suit jacket. Margaret’s clothes were an essential part of her preparation for the day. She checked herself in the mirror and, satisfied with how she looked, she took off her jacket and replaced it with an old sweatshirt. She still had a couple of hours’ project work to do before she left the house. She returned the towel to the bathroom and carried her jacket downstairs.
Margaret made herself a full pot of coffee. She alternated using a plunger jug with an espresso pot heated on the stove, depending on the type of coffee she’d opened; today it was filter coffee in the plunger. She boiled the water in the kettle and then poured in a small amount to warm the jug. She swirled the water around the upper part of the jug, trying to heat each part of the glass, and then emptied the water into the sink. She took the jar of coffee from the fridge and filled out four heaped scoops into the jug. She replaced the top on the coffee jar and returned it to the fridge. Without re-boiling the kettle, she poured in enough water to cover the coffee and waited to let it seep into the grinds. She shook the jug to make sure the water permeated through to all the coffee. Every time she did this she thought of the movie Betty Blue, the scene where they’re making the coffee and waiting in awkward silence while they let the coffee grinds soak in the pan. Margaret poured in the rest of the boiled water to the top of the jug. She placed the plunger in the jug and rested it on top of the coffee. She took a tea towel from the rack on the front of the stove and wrapped it around the coffee jug.
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sp; While she was waiting for the coffee, Margaret cleared the kitchen table and wiped it down with a cloth. She kept her college bag on the shoe rack behind the kitchen door; she took out the books for her project and set them out across the kitchen table. She left a space to her right for her coffee and toast.
She took a mug from the cupboard and poured in some of the water that was still in the kettle; she did the same with a plate. She hated using cold crockery and she liked her toast to stay warm once it was ready to eat. She took two slices of bread from the packet in the bread bin, put them in the toaster, and pushed down the lever. She tipped the hot water from the mug into the sink and reached up to the cupboard for the sugar. Using the teaspoon in the sugar bowl, she put a single spoonful into the mug. She left the spoon in the mug and returned the bowl to the cupboard. She unwrapped the towel from the coffee jug, plunged down the plunger and poured the coffee into the mug. She stirred the sugar into the coffee. She tipped the hot water from the plate into the sink and dried the plate with the towel. When the toast popped up, she placed it on the plate and reached for a jar of honey that was kept by the side of the kettle. Using the spoon from her coffee, she scooped some honey on to each piece of toast and then threw the spoon into the sink. She carried her coffee and toast over to the kitchen table and sat down.
Margaret drank her coffee and ate her toast as she read over the work she already had done on her project.
It was ironic, Margaret thought, that she was now the only member of her family to show the slightest interest in going to college. Her children certainly weren’t bothered; they seemed to have picked up on their father’s low opinion of what studying for a degree might bring them. Jack had tried college for a while, if only for his mother’s sake; but he couldn’t stick it and seemed happier now he’d come out and told her. Mike junior didn’t even bother to pretend.
“What would I want to do that for?” he asked. He wanted to see places and earn money.
Margaret was disappointed, but disappointed in the way of all parents who have never been to college and want the best for their children.
She cleared away her plate and washed the crumbs of toast and sticky honey from her hands. She washed the teaspoon at the same time and, without drying the spoon, took down the sugar bowl again from the cupboard and poured herself some more coffee. She settled down to work and studied like this for almost an hour before being disturbed by the front door bell.
Margaret was tempted to ignore it – the kitchen was a long way back, through the hallway, from the front of the house, and Margaret couldn’t be seen from the front door. But when the bell rang a second time, she decided to answer the door and take it as a sign that she’d done enough work for now. She looked at the time – it was almost ten o’clock, and she knew she should be getting ready to leave.
Margaret walked along the hallway, and saw through the glass in the front door that it was Eugene. She wasn’t surprised, but she regretted not anticipating who it might be; it was too late now though.
“Eugene,” she said.
“Margaret,” he said. “May I come in?”
She opened the door wide and stood to one side.
“You can,” said Margaret, “but I’m on my way out.”
Eugene hesitated; he smiled a lopsided smile, and then looked back down to the ground.
“I’m through in the kitchen,” said Margaret, and walked back into the house.
Eugene didn’t follow her, and Margaret took the opportunity to grab the things she needed for the morning. She pulled off her sweatshirt and picked up her jacket. She took a second to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. She had thought she might take everything with her for the day, but now she’d have to come back at lunchtime for the afternoon case files. She picked up her bag, and checked for her car keys inside.
“I was looking for Mike,” said Eugene down the hallway.
“Well, he’s not here,” said Margaret. She pushed past Eugene and pulled the door to behind her. Eugene had to step back from the porch of the house.
“Margaret – ”
“I’m late, Eugene,” said Margaret. “I told you – Mike’s not here.”
“I know, but I – ”
“So why come looking for him then?”
“Because it’s actually you that I really want to speak to,” said Eugene.
Margaret locked the front door.
“Well it’ll have to wait,” she said. “I have a counselling session at eleven, and it’s out at Alderley Edge.”
Margaret walked down the steps in front of the house.
“Please, Margaret – ”
“I told you,” she said again, “I’m late.”
Margaret walked through the gate and into the street. She pressed the remote for her Renault Clio, got in, and drove away.
Katie’s meeting went on for an hour. It was her meeting, so there was nowhere to hide, and she had to put Mike’s phone call to the back of her mind. She was relieved Carmel wasn’t in the room.
This was Katie’s weekly get together with her three trainees, to go over the changes and fluctuations in the accounts they’d been given. She could have gone over them individually, but this way one person’s mistake was everybody’s lesson. She knew of course what was happening to the accounts before the meeting but she let the trainees describe what was going on. She encouraged them to be open and frank about what they were doing – they might as well be if she already knew – and there were never any recriminations at this stage of their training. Nobody actually changed the make-up of a portfolio without first going through Katie. She tried to have them focus separately on currencies, stocks and bonds so they each brought something different to the table.
Katie wasn’t herself but she got through the hour. When she returned to her office though, it was impossible to avoid Carmel’s look of concern.
“Are you okay?” asked Carmel.
“Fine thanks,” said Katie, but she didn’t linger by Carmel’s desk to pick up her messages. And she deliberately closed her door; something Katie only ever did if she was in a meeting or on a very difficult call.
What the hell was Mike thinking? Because he was in trouble, he was determined to drag Katie down as well? So much for all his grand gestures when he set up the scam, keeping Katie well away from the stock purchase of Halibro. Unless they’d followed where the money went next? But if she didn’t actually do anything, could they chase her for the money – or prosecute her for fraud? Would they really pursue it so far? And could they really touch Katie in a different jurisdiction? The movement of money was international but, unlike Mike, she wasn’t an American citizen; they knew where they could stick their subpoena if they tried it on her.
What was the most likely thing to happen? That they would try to stop her trading? That was easily done. Just a hint of an association with what Mike pulled off was enough to say goodbye to her job. Let’s face it – they could do whatever they liked if they put their mind to it.
Is this what Mike was contacting her to warn her about? Well, she’d been ready for twenty years to walk at a moment’s notice. Her money was safe and her passport was in her bag. Mike was more exposed, it was true, but there was little Katie could do to help him. She didn’t believe for one minute that he was scared; and even if he was – what was it to her?
If they followed the money to her then they could follow it elsewhere – to Bruno, for instance.
So Mike knew how to find her – how like Mike. Katie could have tracked Mike down too, if she’d chosen to, but she hadn’t. Did he come across her by chance – this was likely, given her high profile over these past few years – or did he seek her out? Was he watching her before they found him? This was Mike remember; of course he was watching her – watching but not contacting, as agreed. Perhaps, unlike Katie, Mike didn’t need the clean break to see it through? Was he watching out of concern, to see that she was okay? Well, she’d been okay for a long while now – at least by the measure of th
e world – so what was he playing at?
Come on, Katie; stop fucking around! You know exactly what’s going on here. Stop pretending – this is about Bruno and you know it.
There was a knock at Katie’s door and Carmel walked in. She closed the door behind her and sat down in the chair by Katie’s desk.
“Carmel?”
It was obvious to Katie that Carmel didn’t really know how to put whatever it was she’d decided to say.
“Carmel,” said Katie, “if this is about this morning and my being rude, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“No,” said Carmel, “it’s not about that; at least, not about you being rude. You’re the boss and bosses are rude sometimes – ”
“That’s no – ”
“But you aren’t, usually, so don’t worry. God knows you’re a weird fuck, but one thing you’re not generally is rude.”
Katie smiled.
“So,” she said, “apart from telling me I’m a weird fuck – what is it?”
“That phone call, this morning – ”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Katie. “He won’t be calling again, that’s all.”
“But it’s not all, is it?” asked Carmel. “As I said, you’re a weird fuck and you keep yourself to yourself and that’s fine, especially in your position. I know I gossip and everything but it doesn’t mean anything and that’s not why I’m here – to find out what’s going on. So, I don’t know what that was all about this morning and I don’t want to know – well, I do want to know but I know I’m not going to find out, so I might as well pretend I don’t care – but I do care about you and I can see you’re upset, so that’s why I came in.”
Katie nodded that she understood.
“I appreciate it Carmel, I do, but there’s nothing to be done about it and I’ll be fine.”