Whispers Through a Megaphone Read Online Free PDF Page A

dispersed, Jilly Perkins. Just you remember that. Don’t question everything. Don’t forget the small hammers .
    That evening, inspired by Jilly’s tunnels, Ralph wrote new text for his practice leaflet:
    RALPH SWOON MA HIP, UKCP REGISTERED
    Specializing in short-term psychotherapy
    (No long-term work undertaken)
    Moving to short-term work was a step down a tunnel towards a light. He was on his way out of a profession, edging backwards, coming undone. His clients weren’t to blame. They were brave and open and he admired their attempts to make sense of themselves. He simply wished they were plants.
    Ralph sat at his desk. The building was quiet. No one else was here. He looked at the photo above his desk: a bluebell wood in Guernsey.
    His mobile rang. It was Sadie.
    “Where are you?”
    “I’m at work.”
    “Really?”
    “I had some paperwork to do.”
    “Really?”
    “Why do you keep saying really ?”
    “It’s your birthday.”
    “I went for a run, so I thought I’d call in and finish a few things off.”
    “A run?”
    “Yes.”
    “What things?”
    “Admin.”
    “I woke up and you weren’t here.”
    “Sorry. I should have left a note.”
    “No, you should have stayed. I bought croissants.”
    “I’ll be home soon. An hour at the most.”
    “We need to get the house ready for the party.”
    “I know.”
    “People are arriving in ten hours.”
    Ralph laughed.
    “What are you laughing at?”
    “Ten hours is a long time.”
    “Only a man would say that.”
    “What?”
    “A man who doesn’t feel responsible for cleaning the house, preparing the food, sorting the drinks, hanging the decorations.”
    “Sadie, you paid a cleaner to come in. The place is immaculate. I’ll be home later this morning and we’ll sort the food then, okay?”
    “Well make sure you are.”
    After ending the call, Sadie realized that she hadn’t wished him a happy birthday. Never mind, she would do it later when she gave him his presents. She spread out her arms and legs, enjoying the coolness of the sheet as she rolled onto Ralph’s side of the bed and pressed her face into his pillow. She stayed in that position for five minutes, thinking about the party, thinking about what had to be done, thinking about Kristin Hart.
     
    Yesterday, during his final session with Jilly before her two-week holiday in Cornwall with Trevor the Great Dane, Ralph had discovered something disturbing about his wife.
    “I like your jumper,” said Jilly.
    “Do you? It’s a bit old.”
    “Did your mother knit it for you?”
    “Sorry?”
    Jilly blushed. What a leakage, what a spill. Clean it up quickly. Make it disappear. “Some people’s mothers knit jumpers for them, don’t they?” she said, wriggling in her chair.
    “You seem a bit embarrassed, Jilly.”
    “It’s not my fault.”
    “What isn’t?”
    “If your wife puts it all online, you can’t expect us not to look.”
    Ralph squinted, frowned, put one hand on his chest.
    “Your wife, Sadie.”
    “How do you know my wife?”
    “When we started working together, I Googled you.”
    “Why did you do that?”
    “It’s what people do. I’m not weird.”
    Ralph glanced at the floor, then looked at Jilly. “And?”
    “I found your wife’s blog and Twitter page. I started following them. I follow your sons on Twitter too.”
    “What?”
    “I’m not the only one.”
    Ralph’s mouth fell open. Jilly wanted to get close and peer into it, preferably with a tiny torch. How many fillings did he have? Were his teeth really his own?
    “You’re stalking me?”
    “Absolutely not. I’m not really interested in you . Well I am, but you know what I mean. I’m interested in your wife. Not in a dodgy way, if you know what I’m saying.”
    Ralph’s stomach hurt. It was probably his ulcer. Sadie had a blog? He knew about the ceaseless tweeting but a blog as well? Where did she find the time? Were all his clients following his wife on Twitter? Were they following each other?