Ghosts Know (19 page)

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 you 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?”

Perhaps I shouldn’t have been looking so directly at Paula, who retorts “Will you, Graham?”

“What sort of thing are we talking about?”

“Demonstrating your innocence once and for all,” Meryl says.

“On the air,” Dominic says, “of course.”

I don’t know why that should be taken for granted. Before I can say at least this much Paula says “There’s a good deal riding on it, Graham.”

“Well, if it’s for Waves…” I give them time to appreciate my loyalty, but I still have to say “I’d do it. I’ve nothing to hide.”

“We’ll arrange it,” Meryl says.

“Let’s make it as soon as possible,” Paula says and stands up at once.

I could imagine she’s eager to see the arrangements made immediately until she adds “Shall we break for lunch now? You’ve a lot still to deal with.”

Since she isn’t looking at anybody in particular, I’m not sure if any of this is addressed to me. As I push myself away from the table I’m disconcerted by my sweaty handprints, which glisten until I rub them out with my sleeve. At least nobody else appears to have noticed them; in fact, Paula and the visitors seem happy to ignore me now that I’ve agreed to put on their choice of a show. Paula opens the door and turns to me. “Here’s the news,” she says, and I might assume she’s about to give me some or referring to me if she didn’t add “You’d better take over the phone-in. We don’t want anybody wondering about you, Graham.”

It’s Bite Your Tongue Day, but I won’t be doing that. I haven’t taken any sedatives or sprayed deodorant on my fingers, and there aren’t any tacks in my shoes. You’ve checked that, haven’t you, Jeremy? Introduce yourself to the listeners before I go on.”

“I’m Jeremy Kessler, and I’m a polygraph examiner.”

“The things I was mentioning are ways people try and cheat the test, but they aren’t going to fool the experts, are they?”

“Nobody’s ever succeeded with me.”

“Jeremy comes with the job now we’re owned by Frugo. Anyone who wants to join their team has to pass your test first, isn’t that right, Jeremy?”

“There are more of us than me but yes, I think it’s right that your employer’s entitled to look into your character.”

“Watch out, people. Pretty soon we’ll have no secrets where we work or anywhere else.” Perhaps I might have left this unsaid, to judge by Christine’s look through the studio window. “Nothing personal, Jeremy,” I try saying. “It’s my choice that we’re both here.”

He gives such an unhurried nod I could fancy his large squarish head is descending into a doze. His eyelids are heavy enough, though this might be one way he puts his subjects at their ease—too much of it unless they’re careful. All his movements appear studied, and his head looks weighed down by a mass of greyish hair, samples of which lurk beneath the surface of his jowls and jutting chin. “Just for today,” I tell the listeners, “Wilde Card isn’t taking any calls, so all of you out there will have to bite your tongues until tomorrow. For one day only it’s all about me. I’m wired up to a polygraph, and it feels like nothing so much as being in hospital…”

In fact I know very little about that—I’ve always been the healthy type—but I certainly feel like a patient in some kind of ward. Two rubber tubes are wrapped around my midriff to catch variations in my breath. I’m wearing a puffed-up cuff on my upper left arm to monitor my blood pressure, and two of my right fingertips are fitted with detector plates to measure any sweat. All these devices are wired to Kessler’s laptop, which sits on the console with the back of its screen towards me. Describing all this makes me feel oddly fragmented, as if both my voice and my sensations have become detached from me, even though I’m not wearing headphones. It’s some relief to ask Kessler “Do you want to explain anything?”

“We’ve taken an hour to agree the test questions.” Even his voice is deliberate, and just a shade more amiable than neutral. “And we’ve got to know each other, would you say, Graham?”

“So long as you know me that’s fine, but I don’t mind saying it’s mutual.”

One thing I’m sure he doesn’t know. While the laptop is hiding its face from me, the screen is dimly reflected low down on the window beyond the corner of the console. I can make out vague stripes on the indistinct rectangle, and they aren’t entirely static. “Are you going to tell everyone about the test?” I prompt Kessler.

“I’ll be asking some control questions and the ones you’ve chosen to answer.”

“Just in case anybody isn’t clear, you mean the ones we chose together.” When he gives another ponderous nod I say “And how is all this going to work?”

“The control questions let me measure your reactions to compare them with the rest.”

“Which you’ll be asking because—” I don’t need him to explain. “In case,” I say, “there are any rumours that need killing off.”

“What kind of rumours, Graham?”

The blurred reflection of the top line jerks. I take it for the anger graph, though it puts me in mind of a disturbance in water. He knows the answer perfectly well, but perhaps he thinks the listeners should. “About Kylie Goodchild,” I inform anyone who should know. “Shall we get started? I’d like you to give us the results before we’re off the air.”

“My name is Jeremy Kessler and I’m conducting a polygraph examination of Graham Wilde. Have we been on the air all the time, Graham?”

“We still are.” When he raises his head less than an inch, as if the task requires some effort, I say “Sorry, was that my first mistake, my only one? Were you asking a control question?”

“That’s correct, Graham.”

‘Just let me tell the listeners I’m only allowed to answer yes or no. Go ahead, Jeremy, ask me again.’”