Where the Rain Gets In (25 page)

“Yes,” said Eugene.

“You’d best come in then, but I warn you
– I’m on my way back out as soon as I have my stuff together.”

Margaret pushed open the front door and
walked in the house. The kitchen was down a couple of steps at the end of the
hallway, at a lower level to the rest of the house. She waited for Eugene to
follow her inside, and then she closed the door. This was Margaret’s domain –
it was like a self-sufficient unit, a cocoon, and it seemed all the more so
with her books spread out across the kitchen table.

“You’ve been studying,” said Eugene.

Margaret cleared away the coffee jug and
cup from her morning’s work in the kitchen. She didn’t offer to make a drink;
she’d have to get a bite to eat in Withington now.

“You’re not at the hospital today then?”
asked Eugene.

“You know I’m not,” said Margaret.

She started to gather up her books and
files. She needed her project with her in case she had any spare time to work
on it this afternoon. She picked up the file for the counselling session in
Withington, and put everything into her college bag.

“What do you want, Eugene?” she asked.
“Why are you here?”

The years had been kind to Eugene – he
still suffered from a chronic shyness, but he’d lost the nerdiness he'd had in
college and was no longer the geek he'd once been. He’d learnt how to dress
well; his glasses were almost fashionable, or at least not as noticeable as
they once were, and he changed the frames every five years or so. He disagreed
with the wearing of contact lenses – there was a lack of available data on
their long-term safety for his eyes. He’d put on a little weight, but he could
afford to and he carried it well. He’d learnt how to handle himself in company,
particularly in business situations where Mike often left him on his own. He
didn’t come across so much as the freaky boffin these days, more the informed
expert whose advice you’d appreciate and listen to. That was out in the world
though; face-to-face and alone with Margaret was a different matter.

“I was looking for Mike,” he said.

“You tried that line this morning,
remember? Let’s not play games, Eugene.”

“Actually, I really am looking for
Mike,” said Eugene. “It’s part of the reason I want to speak to you.”

“You know Mike’s not here,” said
Margaret, “so stop pretending otherwise. I doubt if you’d have dared call
unless you knew he wouldn’t be here.”

“I know he’s not here, but I don’t know
where he’s gone,” said Eugene. “I know where he told me he’s gone,” said
Margaret, “but that doesn’t necessarily mean I know where he is.”

“Would he lie to you?”

“It’s what partners do to each other,
Eugene – haven’t you heard? Didn’t he let you know where he’d be today? He’s
your partner as well, after all.”

“He didn’t say,” said Eugene. He looked up
at Margaret. “You don’t have to be so rude, you know.”

“Was I being rude?” asked Margaret. “I’m
sorry – Mike’s gone to Dublin for the day. He’ll be home late this evening.
There – does that answer your question?” She fastened the buckle on her college
bag, and looked back at Eugene.

“Why would he go to Dublin?”

“I don’t know, Eugene,” said Margaret.
“And if you don’t know, it’s obviously something he wants to keep from the two
of us. There’s nothing new here – surely you know by now that Mike enjoys his little
secrets?”

“I mean,” said Eugene, “why would he go
to Dublin now, with everything that’s going on?”

“You’d have to ask Mike that,” said
Margaret.

“But there’s nothing in Dublin but – ”

Eugene stopped in mid-sentence; Mike had
shown him the cuttings of Katie’s articles in the
Sunday Independent
a
few weeks ago.

“What?” asked Margaret. “There’s nothing
in Dublin but what?”

“Nothing,” said Eugene.

He was obviously lying, but Margaret let
it go.

“It’s not the first time he’s gone off
without saying,” she said. “Why should you be so concerned today?”

“Because I think he’s had enough of me,”
said Eugene. “Of being in business with me, I mean.”

“And do you really need him any more?”
asked Margaret. “Surely you could run the business on your own by now, without
Mike?”

“We’ve so many people working for us,”
said Eugene, “all I do now is turn up to collect my wages – and I don’t really
need to do that to be paid. But at least I still show my face occasionally –
Mike doesn’t even bother turning up.”

“So what’s the problem?” asked Margaret.
“You’re making your money, the business is sound, and you have time on your
hands. Learn to play golf or something – isn’t that what you boys are supposed
to do at this stage?”

“You’re – you’re not being very nice,”
said Eugene. “I don’t want to play golf. I don’t want time on my hands. I want
to know what to do next.”

“And you need Mike for that, do you?”

“Yes,” said Eugene. “In a word – yes.”

“Then you’re going to have to learn to
do otherwise,” said Margaret, “because you can’t depend on Mike to see you
through. You can’t depend on Mike for anything – you should know that by now.”

“But he’s always helped me before.”

“Only because it suited him,” said
Margaret, “and you helped him as much as he helped you.”

“But what will he do next?” asked
Eugene. “I keep thinking he’s going to run off and do something new, something
that doesn’t need my help, and then where will that leave me?”

“Eugene, I’ve spent my entire married
life feeling that way about Mike. And now, if he’s finally decided to do it –
if he’s finally decided to bugger off and leave us on our own – well, you
couldn’t you blame him, could you? There’s neither of us exactly blame-free
where Mike is concerned.”

“Does he know about us?”

“There is no us, Eugene, I’ve told you
that. There’s one mistake, that’s all; one mistake that I’m going to pay the
price of forever, that’s all – a mistake.”

The Millennium, thought Margaret. The
fucking Millennium – there were so many high expectations over such a big nothing,
over the passing of time only. They were trying to be realistic about it, not
to have too high an expectation for the night, and had decided to celebrate it
at home alone – or at home alone with Eugene. His relationship with his
girlfriend hadn’t worked out and he’d spent most of the nineties on his own. He
was now determinedly single. Margaret had the impression he’d been badly hurt
and wasn’t going to go there again; like a research project that had gone
horribly wrong. Margaret didn’t mind letting the Millennium pass in this way –
there was a little bit of symmetry in both starting and ending the decade with
the three of them celebrating in the house together.

Only that wasn’t quite how it worked
out. Mike, being Mike, decided he had to be some place else at the last minute.
One of their clients was jittery over the Millennium and Mike volunteered to be
on site to make sure nothing went wrong come the stroke of midnight. Eugene
assured him everything would be fine and Mike knew that it would, but he said
that wasn’t the point – it was a question of reassuring their client, showing
how much they cared and keeping the contract for another thousand years.

After midnight, once the kids had gone
to bed – Jack was out all night at a friend’s party – Margaret and Eugene had
rolled a joint and waited for Mike to come home. And waited. They were huddled
together on the sofa, Eugene’s arm around Margaret. There was nothing unusual
in this but there was in what Margaret did next – turning to kiss Eugene and lifting
herself across him. They had a hasty, fumbling fuck, their minds hazy with the
dope and listening out for the sounds of Mike returning and the kids upstairs.
It was Margaret who led Eugene but he didn’t need much persuading. She was
glad; it felt good, both the sex and the lesson she was giving Mike. She got
her own back that night – for all the absences and for all the secrets – a
pre-emptive strike for all the times to come.

Eugene had left before Mike came home
soon after two o’clock. Margaret had showered and was in her bed.

The Millennium, she thought, the fucking
Millennium.

Margaret picked up her bag off the
kitchen table.

“Mike wouldn’t just leave,” said Eugene.
“He wouldn’t just go without saying anything.”

“You don’t know what Mike might do,” said
Margaret. “I don’t know what Mike might do. I don’t even know if he’s really
gone to Dublin, though from the look on your face I suspect he has. But I don’t
know why.”

“He couldn’t just leave,” said Eugene,
“not with . . . not with everything that’s happening.”

“Make up your mind, Eugene,” said
Margaret. “You just told me there’s nothing happening, that there’s nothing for
you to do at work. If Mike’s bored with his job, he’ll be making plans to do
something else – you can depend on that.”

“I don’t mean that, Margaret, and you
know it.”

Margaret put down her bag.

“What do you want Eugene?” she asked.
“Why are you really here? And why come this morning, of all mornings, when you
know Mike won’t be around? What were you doing, waiting out in the street for
me to come home alone?”

“That’s not fair – “ began Eugene.

“Why is it that you only ever call when
you know I’ll be here on my own?”

“Margaret – ”

“Is this it?” she asked. Margaret pushed
her right hand to her breast, and felt herself through the silk of her blouse.

“Margaret – ”

“Is this it?” She reached down to the
hem of her skirt and lifted it up to her waist; it was a close fitting skirt
and not so easy to do. “Is this what you came for?” She touched herself through
her underwear. “Or this?” she asked, and turned around and smacked her bottom.
“Come on, Eugene, at least be honest with yourself. It’s here for you if you
want it.” Margaret slapped herself again, but when Eugene didn’t move she felt
ridiculous and pulled her skirt back down. When she saw the look on Eugene’s
face she knew she’d hurt him, but that was what she’d wanted to do.

Eugene turned to go, but then he
hesitated.

“Margaret,” he said. “You and Mike are
my best friends.”

“Your only friends, you mean.”

“No, actually; you’re not my only
friends. But you are my best friends and I care about you, whether you want me
to or not.”

“We don’t need your pity, Eugene.”

“It’s not pity, Margaret. You can’t
ignore what’s going on here, and falling out with Mike isn’t going to help.”

“Maybe we should have thought of that
before.”

“For fuck’s sake, Margaret! I’m not
talking about that, and you know it.”

“So what are you talking about?”

“I . . . I know I’ve made things worse
in the past – ”

“No you haven’t, Eugene,” said Margaret.
“I enjoyed our little fuck that time, our little fucky-fuck-fuck to see in the
new millennium – ”

“Margaret – ”

“Stop saying my fucking name, can’t
you?”

“If there’s anything . . . if there’s
anything I can do to help you, then please just say, but Margaret, you’ve got
to face up to what’s happening – you and Mike both.”

“You can help, Eugene,” said Margaret.

“Yes –?”

“You can help by not calling around here
when you know Mike’s away – that would be a start.”

“Margaret, I – ”

“And then you can help by fucking off
and getting your own life and stop being so dependent on Mike all the time and
now I’d like you to just leave.”

“Margaret,” said Eugene, “I know this is
hard, and I understand if you want to take it out on me – God knows I’ve got it
coming. And I won’t call again if that’s what you want – ”

“That’s what I want!” said Margaret.

“Are you even going to the hospital
today?” asked Eugene. “You have to at least go visit her, Margaret – ”

“I told you I wasn’t working at the hospital
today.”

“That’s not what I – Margaret, you have
to face up to what’s happening.” Eugene knew he was repeating himself, but he
couldn’t think of any other way to put it – this was what he’d come to say.

“I don’t have to do anything,” said
Margaret.

“But she’s your daughter, for Christ’s
sake.”

“I want you to leave now.”

“Please, Margaret – ”

“Please, Eugene,” she mimicked. “Just
go, will you – now?”

Margaret lifted the strap of her bag
across her shoulder and turned away from Eugene. She heard him leave the
kitchen, walk down the hallway and out the front door – only then did she allow
herself to breathe. She tried to think what else she might need for the rest of
the day. She gave herself a few more minutes, and then picked up her car keys.
She left the kitchen and closed the door behind her. At the front door, she
couldn’t resist checking that Eugene really had left, but his car was gone. She
locked the door behind her and walked to her car.