The Listeners (43 page)

The man had left the girl he had been living with. ‘I’m no good for her. When I’m drunk I don’t know what I do. When I get sober, she’s gone sometimes, but she always comes back. Why?’

‘She loves you?’

‘It’s useless. Why shouldn’t I kill myself? There’s ... well, it’s like ... there’s nothing...’

‘You feel life’s got nothing for you?’ Sarah sat on the edge of the bunk and clutched the telephone, crouching over it, alone in the world with the man’s slurred voice. ‘What about the things you have to give to life?’

‘Like what?’

‘Yourself. Work to do. You said you wanted to be a journalist. A story to write. Someone who needs you.’

‘I’m no good for her. Oh look, why am I telling you this? You don’t care.’

‘I do.’

‘Why? Why do you? Have you got time to talk? Do you mind if I talk? I know I’m not making much sense, but I’ll go off my head if I can’t talk to someone...’

Sarah came out of the call as if she were coming out of water, shaking off the concentration. Peter was standing in the shadow by the door with an armful of clothes.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘One thing, Sarah. Don’t say,
“You feel
there’s nothing to live for.” Say something like, “There’s nothing to live for.” See the difference? It identifies you with him. It shows him that you know it might as well be you, suffering what he is suffering.’ He bent to kiss the top of Victoria’s sandy red hair. ‘Good luck.’

He only kissed Companions. Questions stormed into Sarah’s head, but she did not ask them.

‘Who is he?’ she asked when he had gone. ‘What is he? I worked for him for two months and I don’t really know him at all.’

‘I don’t think anybody does. I think he’s what each one of us needs him to be. When I was in hospital, I had a dream about him. He said, “I am the agent of God, and you are my messengers.” ‘

The telephone rang, and one of them picked it up.

‘Samaritans – can I help you? Oh, I’m sorry ... I’m sorry. Don’t cry. It’s all right ... Yes I know, it’s terrible when you can’t sleep. I know ... I know ... It’s all right ... Yes, I’m here. I’ll wait. I’m listening...’

This electronic edition published in 2011 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square, London WC1B 3DP

Copyright © Monica Dickens 1970

The Moral rights of this author have been asserted.

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ISBN: 9781448206704
eISBN: 9781448206346

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