Where the Rain Gets In (6 page)

“But you’re not normal, are you?” Katie
asked her reflection in the bathroom mirror. And she set about cutting herself
again and again, until there was so much blood that she couldn’t see the skin
of her thighs and then she cried, with the pain but also the shame of being
beaten, because she thought she could do this and now she knew she couldn’t, so
she rested her head on the bathroom shelf and let her arms drop between her
legs and let the blade drop to the floor, and she stayed like that for a long
time. And the worst wasn’t over because she still had to clear up the mess, on
her legs and on the floor, and because the moment had gone it was harder to
face up to why she did this to herself, time after time, and she wished she
could stop.

It was almost ten o’clock by the time
Katie was clean and calm and she still had to decide whether or not to go. What
persuaded her in the end was her guess that Mike would be long gone – they were
supposed to be meeting at nine – and also the knowledge that if she didn’t go
tonight, she’d have to do it all over again the next time. And there would be a
next time; if she really wanted this there were things she had to go through.
So she opted for the same plain look she’d worn for the day of registration,
and no makeup; she looked pasty and washed out, but that couldn’t be helped.

Mike was still waiting when Katie
arrived. The bar was noisy and busy, but Katie saw Mike immediately, talking at
the bar, and she walked over. She apologised for being so late.

“That’s no problem,” he said. “We’re sat
over there – what would you like to drink?” Mike saw the panic in Katie’s face.
“Don’t worry,” he said, “it’s only Eugene.”

Katie was relieved; the thought of a
crowd scared her.

“How did you persuade Eugene to come?”
she asked.

“Easy – I told him I was meeting you.
He’s smitten.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Katie, but she
blushed.

“Is that okay?” asked Mike. “I thought
you’d be more comfortable if it wasn’t just the two of us, and Eugene’s
harmless; he’s hardly said a word all night.”

Katie waited with Mike at the bar before
joining Eugene at the table. When she said hello, Eugene murmured something and
looked away, embarrassed. He picked up a pack of cards from the table in front
of him.

Mike smiled.

“They’re all scared of you at the bar,”
he said to Katie. “I asked them if you’d been in, and they knew who I meant
straight away.”

“They’re not scared of me,” said Katie.

“Well, wary then.”

“Because I’m a punk?”

“No, because you’re . . . I don’t know
what you are. There’s something about you that makes people – ”

“Uneasy?”

“Wary, I said – edgy.”

“Which means uneasy. What about you –
aren’t you wary?”

“No,” said Mike. “I don’t do wary. This
is a great pub – how did you find it?”

“Well, don’t go telling everyone about
it,” said Katie. “The last thing I want is . . . ” She didn’t finish what she
was about to say.

“What?” asked Mike. “What’s the last
thing you want – a bunch of students moving in on your favourite pub?”

“I just like it here,” said Katie,
“that’s all. I feel comfortable, even if I make them feel uneasy.” The idea
that she intimidated the punters in the White Horse seemed silly to Katie. She
hadn’t yet learnt the effect she had on other people.

“You don’t think much of students, do
you?” asked Mike.

Katie shrugged.

“They’re okay,” she said. “I don’t have
that much to do with them, really.”

“You’re studying for a four year law
degree,” said Mike. “How can you not have much to do with them?”

“As little as possible, then,” said
Katie.

“I’m a student,” said Mike, “and so is
Eugene.”

“Well, you’re different.”

Katie didn’t like students; she didn’t
like the idea of students. She thought of them as either spoilt rich kids
supported by their parents, or freeloaders on a full grant. She resented anyone
to whom anything came easy when things had been so hard for her. She saw kids –
and they seemed like kids to Katie, though she was only a year or two older –
intent on drinking their way through college and she couldn’t understand them.
She couldn’t understand why they didn’t appreciate just how lucky they were.
She said as much to Mike.

“So you’ll be happy when they do away
with grants to students?” he asked. “Because it’s coming, you know, now that
Thatcher’s in power. We’ll be given loans, not grants, to support ourselves.”

“We might appreciate it more,” said
Katie.

“Yes,” said Mike, “but what about the
people who can’t afford to take out a loan – what about them?”

“If they want it bad enough, they’ll
find a way.”

“Like you?”

“Yes,” said Katie, “like me. Is there
anything wrong with that?”

“Only how self-righteous you sound,”
said Mike.

“What do you mean?”

“You received a grant, and had your fees
paid.”

“But I’d have been a fool not to take
it,” said Katie.

“And you think you’d still have gone to college,
even if you had to pay the full course fees?”

“If that was what I wanted to do,” said
Katie, “then yes.”

“And what about someone without your
ability?” asked Mike. “Someone who doesn’t have your self-sufficient,
hard-as-nails ability to cope with whatever life might throw at them?”
“Come off it,” said Katie. “We’re not talking about people like that. We’re
talking about kids who are given everything, and don’t appreciate it – waste it
even.”

“And you hate that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, and I don’t see anything
wrong in hating it.”

“Why not just be happy for them?”

“Happy for them?”

“Yes, what’s it to you?” asked Mike. “So
what if some kid’s parents are loaded, and he squanders his allowance? So what if
some other kid is given a full grant, and he chooses to drink it away? So what?
Good luck to them!”

“It’s wrong,” said Katie.

“It’s only wrong if you worry that other
people might have more than you, that someone else might have it easier than
you. Why care about them? You have what you want, and you’re doing what you
want to do. Why not just be happy and proud of what you’ve achieved, instead of
spoiling it with your begrudgery?”

“Oh, spare me,” said Katie. “And what’s
begrudgery – is it what it sounds like?”

“You’re the very definition of
begrudgery,” said Mike. “What – because you had it tough, you think everyone
else should have it tough?”

“More or less,” said Katie, “yes.”

“Why not think – I had it tough, so I
hope no one else ever has to? Wouldn’t that be a lot nicer?”

“That’s not the way the world works,”
said Katie.

“Oh,” said Mike, “I can see you’re going
to fit right in. I bet you just can’t wait to be a part of Thatcher’s bold new
Britain, can you? ’Fuck’s sake, Katie, loosen up a little. Everybody should
have a full grant, everybody should have shitloads of money, and no one should
find life hard. There’s money for all sorts of shit, so why not pay for
everyone to go through college – or for everyone who wants to go through
college?”

“But there are so many wankers here,”
said Katie.

Mike smiled.

“Now, that’s a different matter,” he
said, “and I have to confess: I’m a little disappointed on that front myself. I
had this idea that college would be full of cool characters, like something out
a Jack Kerouac novel, but you’re right – there are too many wankers out there.”

“I take it you include me in that
category?” said Eugene.

“No, Eugene,” said Mike, “you’re a geek;
there’s a difference. If you were a wanker then I wouldn’t have asked you to
come along tonight. Now, explain this card counting trick to me. How is it
done?”

Eugene had sat quietly all evening,
shuffling the pack of playing cards over and over.

“It’s not a trick,” said Eugene. He
spoke down at the table, unable to look Katie in the eye.

“How about another drink first?” she
asked.

“It’s not a trick,” repeated Eugene. “If
it was a trick then it would involve some sleight of hand. A trick would be if
I asked you to pick a card, and I managed to see it as you placed it back in
the pack – that would be a trick.”

“Okay,” said Mike. “We’re agreed it’s
not a trick. Now could you please explain it to me in terms I might
understand?”

“Something is not a trick when there is
some logic or a skill attached to it,” said Eugene.

“But a sleight of hand is a skill,” said
Mike.

“But it’s a cheating skill. It’s
deceptive and misleading and therefore dishonest.”

“Jesus, Eugene,” said Mike. “Just show
us the fucking thing, can’t you?”

Katie laughed.

“Let me get the drinks in first,” she
said.

Katie went over to the bar and noticed
for the first time how space was made for her to get served. She paid for the
drinks, and Mike appeared behind her to give her a hand.

“I told you,” he said, once they were
back at the table. “They’re all scared of you.”

She ignored Mike, and turned to Eugene.

“Now,” she said, “are you going to tell
us about this card counting theory of yours, or not?”

“Oh, it’s not my theory,” said Eugene.

“But tell us anyway.”

“It’s essential that you first
understand the concept of not cheating.” He looked down at the table and seemed
to be waiting for some response before going on. Katie looked at Mike, who
raised his eyebrows.

“Eugene,” he said. “We have nothing but
the highest regard for you and your theory – or whoever’s theory it might be.
You’re a mathematical genius, I know – ”

“There is some maths involved, but it’s
at a very low level.”

“Well good,” said Mike, “because maybe
then I can follow it.”

“For example,” said Eugene and he placed
the deck of cards on the table. “There are fifty two cards in that deck. The
chances of picking out a certain card are one in fifty two. If this lady would
like to – ”

“Her name’s Katie,” said Mike.

“If she’d like to think of a playing
card and then pick a card off the top of the deck?”

Katie did so.

“Is that the card you thought of?”
Eugene asked the table.

“No,” said Katie, and smiled at Mike.

“But you can appreciate how the odds
have now improved? There’s a better chance that the next card might be yours?”

“Yes,” said Katie.

“Is that it?” asked Mike.

“No, said Eugene. “I was simply
illustrating how the odds might change.” He looked up and spoke directly to
Katie for the first time. “Could you put the card back and then shuffle the
deck?”

Eugene watched Katie shuffle the cards.

“Mike,” he said, “perhaps you’d like to
shuffle the cards too; I don’t think you were too impressed with the lady’s –
with Katie’s shuffling skills?”

Katie handed the deck to Mike, and
Eugene watched.

“Now what?” asked Mike.

“I can’t state for certain where Katie’s
card will be, but I think you’ll find it is in the lower third of the deck.”

Mike laughed.

“It’s a good job you’re not doing tricks
Eugene,” he said, “because as tricks go, that one stinks – you know what I
mean?”

“That wasn’t a trick. I used my skill to
follow the card as you shuffled the deck.”

“Well, can’t you be a little more
specific?”

“I am improving,” said Eugene, “but for
now my best guess is perhaps the top half of the bottom third.”

Katie took the deck off Mike and looked
for the original card. It was fourteen off the bottom.

“That’s incredible,” she said.

“And you really followed that card?”
asked Mike.

“It’s a skill, not a trick,” said
Eugene. He was back to looking down at the table. “It was quite easy to follow
the first shuffle, as the card only moved the once. When Mike shuffled, he also
cut the deck a few times. I think he was trying to catch me out.”

“How accurate are you?” asked Mike.

“I was confident about the card being in
the bottom third, the rest was an educated guess.”

“Educated?”

“Yes, because I think I took into
account all the relevant factors.”

“And you were counting the cards?”

“No,” said Eugene, “I was simply
observing and remembering. I wanted to show you what could be achieved through
trained observation.”

“So what about counting the cards?”
asked Mike. “How could watching the shuffle be of any use in a casino?”