Ghosts Know

by Ramsey Campbell

  “The chaps with the axes. Our executioners.” I should have realised by now that she lacks a sense of humour, or at any rate my kind, and so I say “The Frugo folk.”

  “They’re with Paula. One of them’s a woman.”

  She must resent my not having considered the possibility; she’s acting as if I denied her a voice. “I hope they’ll be listening to me.”

  “Why should you think they’ll be doing that?”

  “I imagine they’ll be listening to every one of us. Even you, Megan.”

  I mean this more as a warning than an insult, but I don’t much care how it sounds. Most of my colleagues are at their desks in the newsroom, intent on looking not just busy but essential. Presumably that’s why those who glance at me return immediately to their work. I fill a plastic cup from the cooler and hurry into the control room, where the twelve o’clock news is just beginning overhead with no mention of Kylie Goodchild. I’ve borrowed Rick Till’s routine and arrived with little time to spare, boosting my adrenalin, I hope. I wave at Christine and dash past her to chase Lofthouse out of the studio. “You’re in the wrong place, Trevor.”

  He carries on donning the headphones but lifts the right earpiece. “I’m afraid you are, Graham.”

  Before I can argue Christine follows me into the studio. “You didn’t give me a chance to say. Paula wants Trevor to take the phone-in.”

  “You’re my understudy, are you, Trevor?”

  “Just for today.” He lets the earpiece down and adds “As far as I know.”

  “Why didn’t anybody tell me sooner?”

  “I was with the visitors when Paula arranged it,” Christine says.

  Trevor gazes at me as if I have no right to be there, and I tramp after Christine into the control room. “Were they interviewing you?” I murmur. “How did it go?”

  “They haven’t fired me yet.” Before I can establish how much of a joke this is meant to be Christine says “They want you now.”

  “They sent you with the message, did they?”

  “They said as soon as you came in.”

  I shouldn’t appear to be blaming her—she looks anxious enough. I drain my cup on the way to the cooler, where I refill it and then knock on Paula’s door. The sound seems oddly hollow, not least since it brings no response. I’m raising my fist to knock harder when somebody whispers “Conference room, Graham.”

  The voice is so stifled that I can’t identify the speaker or even their gender. It puts me in mind of a nervous child in a schoolroom, trying surreptitiously to help a classmate with the answer to a question. The impression infuriates me, and I rap on the door of the conference room with quite a helping of my strength. I’m expecting Paula’s standard summons, but a man says “Yes, come in.”

  Three people are seated at the near end of the long table, well out of the rays of the sun. Paula has her back to the door and glances around at me. She’s flanked by a man and an equally young woman, both of whom have the scrubbed bright-eyed look of evangelists; they remind me of the pairs who go from door to door. Their expensive lightweight pale grey suits could almost be a uniform. “Graham Wilde?” the woman says, reaching a hand across a document folder that lies beside an open laptop. “I’m Meryl.”

  “Dominic,” her colleague says and holds out a hand the instant she lets go of mine.

  His handshake is no less firm and terse than hers—like hers, as smooth and cool as his precisely shaved face looks. He has a laptop and a folder too, lined up so nearly opposite hers that they might almost be playing at reflections. As Paula joins the visitors in observing me, not so brightly in her case, Meryl says “Sit wherever you’re comfortable, Graham.”

  Both laptops are tuned to Waves. Lofthouse’s muffled voice feels multiplied, as if a pair of invisible but not entirely insubstantial headphones is clamped to my skull. I’m heading for a seat when the first caller says “Have you taken Graham off?”

  “I don’t think anyone would want to do that,” Lofthouse says with a mumble of a laugh.

  “Imitate him, I expect Trevor’s saying,” Paula wants the visitors to understand.

  “We get that,” Dominic says. “It’s not too local.”

  “Not that local is necessarily bad,” Meryl puts in.

  I sit on her side of the table, leaving an empty seat between us. She switches off Wilde Card, but half the muted voice that’s replaced mine lingers in the air until her colleague shuts down his laptop. I don’t know what expression my face betrays, but Dominic says “Don’t you think he’s suited to the job?”

  Of course this is a test, no doubt of loyalty, but it could be a trap as well. “He’s perfectly good at his own. I just wish you’d heard me doing this one.”

  “We have,” says Meryl.

  “I’m glad.” Nevertheless I’m anxious to learn “What did you play for them, Paula?”

  She lifts her head, but her face stays as stiff as her hair. “We’ve been monitoring your output for some time,” Dominic says.

  Though he can’t mean just mine, I feel I should say “Then I’m gladder.”

  Meryl rises to her feet at once, and I wonder what I’ve done until I realise she’s turning her chair towards me. “Tell us why,” she says.

  “You’ll have heard what I’ve been doing for you.”

  “What would you say that was?” says Dominic.

  “For one thing, increasing the audience.”

  It’s Meryl’s turn again. “How do you feel you’ve done that?”

  “I’m sure there are people listening who weren’t before.”

  “Yes,” Dominic says, “but how are you doing it? That was the question.”

  “We agreed I should take it as far as I could, didn’t we, Paula?”

  Before Paula has finished parting her lips Meryl says “What were you taking where, Graham?”

  “Challenging people. Shaking their beliefs up,” I say and keep my eyes on Paula. “You thought I should be a bit sharper with them.”

  “I believe I said you should be honest, Graham.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Dominic enquires without looking away from me.

  “I wasn’t suggesting he wasn’t,” Paula says, “or anyone else at Waves. I was encouraging him to make it central to his presentation on the air.”

  Her conference language must be designed to impress the visitors, but something seems not to have done so. After a pause as brief as her handshake and Dominic’s, Meryl says “You feel it’s your mission to challenge everyone’s beliefs, Graham.”

  “I wouldn’t go quite that far. I’d say—”

  “We all need a mission in our lives.”

  It’s plain how strongly she feels about this—she’s taken Dominic’s turn to speak—but he contributes “We like all the members of the Frugo family to have one.”

  “I didn’t say I hadn’t. I was going to say I question beliefs I think need it. You’ll have heard a few that did.”

  ‘Are you leaving out your own?” says Meryl.

  “I don’t think anyone needs to know what those are. If a caller says, what can I think of, if they say something’s black I’ll do my best to prove it’s white.”

  I’ve an odd sense of having chosen an unfortunate example until Paula breaks the silence. “No, Meryl’s asking if you ever question yours.”

  I can’t help hoping the visitors feel she has assumed too much, but when they only gaze at me I say “I’d like to think so.”

  “We felt you weren’t too comfortable,” Dominic says, “with alternative beliefs.”

  I’m close to giving him the kind of argument that I suspect Lofthouse isn’t having on the phone-in. “Alternative to what?”

  “Dominic’s thinking of the psychic you’ve kept involving in your show,” Meryl says. “What was his name again?”

  “Frankie Patterson.”

  “Frank Jasper,” Paula says with a blink at me that might denote reproach.

  “We ought to remember,” Dominic says. �
�We’ve heard the name often enough.”

  “What does he mean to you, Graham?” says Meryl.

  “Not much at all. Not nearly as much as he thinks he does, as he thinks he means to anyone, I mean.”

  Paula in particular appears to be waiting for me to finish, but it’s Dominic who says “You’ve been making quite a lot of him.”

  “Not half as much as he makes of himself.”

  “Some people,” Meryl says, “could think he’s the star of your show.”

  “Well, I’m sure you don’t. I shouldn’t fancy even you do, Paula.”

  Dominic turns to her as Meryl says “Why even Paula?”

  “I’m waiting to hear that myself,” Paula lets everyone know.

  “You asked me to invite him in the first place, if you remember. You thought he was what we needed. I don’t know if you two both heard that.”

  As the visitors meet this with matching neutral looks I realise that although they may have listened to that edition of Wilde Card, Paula’s instructions won’t have been recorded. I gaze at her until she says “He could have brought an alternative element to your show.”

  Surely the Frugo duo must see that she’s just trying to sound like Dominic if not Meryl as well. “What do you think he brought, Graham?” Dominic says. “After all, it’s your name on the show.”

  “Exploitation of the gullible. A few cheap stage tricks. Pretending he’s someone and something he’s not.” I don’t say any of this aloud; it’s obvious that the trick is to sound positive, and so I tell the three of them “Publicity for us.”

  “There are different kinds, Graham,” Meryl says.

  “True enough, but as you say, everything we do is advertising.”

  “I don’t remember saying that.”

  “Nor do I,” says Dominic.

  “Actually, it was your line, Paula.”

  “Let’s try and concentrate on your Mr Jasper,” Meryl says. “The way you presented him on the air was up to you.”

  I don’t know how many rebukes I’ve just been given, but I can do without all of them. My rage at being harassed by or rather about Jasper yet again is rising closer to the surface. “He had something to do with it too.”

  “Not when he wasn’t there,” Dominic says.

  “Though you did have him on your programme twice,” Meryl points out.

  “Forgive me for saying, Paula, but you brought him in that time.”

  “It wouldn’t have been Paula,” Dominic says, “who put him on the air.”

  “You told me to, didn’t you, Paula? Once he was in the studio you wanted him to have the mike.”

  “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Graham. I was trying to remind you that you were live.”

  I recall her nodding through the window at the microphone. If she didn’t mean what I assumed, why didn’t she make it clear then? I manage to control my rage by saying “Anyway, you were happy afterwards with how I’d handled the situation.”

  Before Paula can voice the response that I see in her eyes Meryl says “Did you take the decision to cut him off, Graham?”

  “I had to clear the studio,” Paula says at once.

  “You did rather seem to be losing control, Graham.”

  “I don’t think I did at all under the circumstances. I’d any number of people crowding into the studio when as Paula says it was five. I don’t know if she’s told you she had to call security to get rid of one of them.”

  “You don’t think you’re losing it now,” Dominic says.

  “I don’t. I never do. If I didn’t have it I couldn’t carry on here.”

  “No need to take it the wrong way,” Meryl says. “There’s nothing wrong with caring about your job.”

  However she means this, surely they must realise it applies to Paula too. Paula is a good deal more defensive than I am, and worse than that as well—not far from an outright liar. Even if I can’t risk saying this I can put some of it into my eyes, and I’m meeting her stiff gaze when Dominic asks me “How would you describe Wilde Card in a sound bite?”

  “Letting people have their say but making them think about it.”

  “That’s quite a big but,” Meryl says, “do you think?”

  I’m on the edge of a joke no better than the worst of Benny’s when Dominic comments “A bit cumbersome for an ad.”

  “Not a phone-in,” Meryl says, “not a drone-in.”

  As I deduce she’s enthusing about the slogan Paula says “You weren’t too fond of that one, Graham, were you?”

  “I came up with it, though.”

  “We’d hope you’d think that’s part of your commitment, Graham.” Before I can tell Meryl I wasn’t complaining she adds “Did you have thoughts about changing your show?”

  Is she referring to Hannah Leatherhead’s proposal? If so they can’t realise it’s no longer in the game, but I won’t be the first to bring it into the open. Instead I say “I wouldn’t mind doing more interviews.”

  “Have you had much experience with those?” says Dominic.

  “The only way to get that is to do it, don’t you think?” When he turns up his left hand on the table but leaves the other one palm down, a gesture that suggests some kind of trick, I say “You heard the interview I did.”

  “You’ve Mr Jasper in mind again, have you?” Meryl says. “You do seem rather concerned with him.”

  “I’d say he was obsessed with me.”

  “Nobody said you were obsessed, Graham.” Dominic gives me a moment to sift this for meaning and says “We’ve been hearing quite a lot about him.”

  “What sort of thing?” I feel I also need to ask “From whom?”

  “On your show, he means,” says Meryl.

  I mustn’t assume they’re colluding in the kind of verbal manoeuvre Patterson might use, but I have to struggle to suppress my rage. “Maybe you didn’t hear enough.”

  “What would you like us to hear?” Dominic prompts.

  “Not you. Everyone, not just you, I mean. I wish I’d said on the air who he was and how I knew before he fiddled it onto his web site.”

  “Instead of pretending to have some of his talents, you mean.”

  “I hope I’ll never be so desperate, supposing he has any.” In a moment I realise what Dominic has in mind. “You’re saying I should have told the listeners how I read his past. You thought I shouldn’t, didn’t you, Paula? You wanted me to keep them in the dark.”

  A minute frown pinches the skin between Meryl’s eyes. As I wonder if she’ll say I’m obsessed with Paula too she enquires “Didn’t you want your listeners to think that was how you were led to the girl who drowned?”

  “Why in God’s name and anyone else’s you’d like to throw in would I have wanted that? I was being ironic about, I’m sorry to bring him up one more time, Frankie Jasper again. Maybe I should stop if it isn’t obvious.”

  “It wasn’t publicity for your show,” says Dominic.

  “That’s right, it wasn’t.” I’m instantly unsure that he was asking a question; could it have been a rebuke? “And attending Kylie Goodchild’s funeral wasn’t meant that way either,” I protest. “Her father wanted me there.”

  Meryl nods but frowns faintly as well. “You said your shows weren’t meant to be about you.”

  Did I tell her that? No, she heard me tell a listener. “I’d say they aren’t, yes.”

  “But another time,” Dominic says, “you told someone there should be a Presenter Awareness Day.”

  “That was a joke.” I don’t know how much of my rage escapes as I add “Obviously I’m no good at those.”

  “You just need to be aware what impression you’re presenting,” Meryl says.

  The renewed silence has to be designed to make me speak. “Which do you think I am?”

  “Rather on the defensive yesterday, we thought,” says Dominic.

  ‘Just like Paula’s been today, you mean.” I keep this to myself, instead saying “You heard what I had to deal with. How would yo
u have handled it?”

  “Perhaps some of it shouldn’t have been broadcast,” Meryl says.

  I’m not about to blame Christine, and I won’t give Paula the chance. “If that’s anybody’s fault it’s mine. What do you think I oughtn’t to let through in future?”

  “Some of the content was bordering on racist,” Dominic says. “That’s got no business being part of Frugo’s image.”

  “What, the chap who made the Jewish jokes? He was Jewish himself. They’re allowed if anybody is, surely.”

  “They’re talking about some of your comments,” Paula says.

  I take hold of the plastic cup, only to find I’ve drained it. “Can we hear what I’m meant to have said?”

  “We already have.” Meryl lets me glimpse sympathy as she says “It won’t help to go over what you meant. We’ve established it’s the impression that counts.”

  “I’d rather have the truth.”

  “Would you?” Dominic says, and I have the notion that he and Meryl are refraining from sharing a glance. “I should think your listeners might too. We know one would.”

  I let go of the cup before it splinters and hide my fists under the table so as to clench them. My mouth isn’t far from sharing the contraction as I demand “Which one?”

  “Your Jewish caller.”

  So Dominic didn’t have Jasper in mind after all, and I lay my open hands on the table. “Because he thought whatever people say about us can’t really harm us, you mean.”

  “No,” Meryl says as if she thinks I’ve made a not especially appropriate joke, “because he thought you should take a lie detector test.”

  “It certainly oughtn’t to do any harm,” says Paula.

  “Especially not to your ratings,” Dominic says.

  I can’t hide my hands again so soon, and I manage not to dig my nails into the table. “If we’re talking about impressions mine are that those tests are for criminals and liars, and I’m sure many of our listeners would think so too.”

  I can’t judge what kind of silence I’ve provoked until Meryl says “We both took one.”

  “It’s standard practice in Frugo recruitment,” says Dominic.

  “Does that mean everybody here will have to take one?”