Ghosts Know by Ramsey Campbell Read Free Book Online

that?”
    “You’re right, wrong word. Your investigation of Frank Jasper. I’m wondering how you knew so much about him.”
    “I think you’d have to ask the expert, and that’s him.”
    “That’s your way, isn’t it, Graham? You’re careful with your words.” As I wonder how much she intends this as praise she adds “Don’t give away too much for nothing. I wouldn’t ask you to.”
    “I didn’t think you were.”
    “I’m in London for the next few days. I just wanted to let you know you’re quite an asset to broadcasting. When I’m home you might think of giving me a call if you like and we could meet for a chat. There are things about your kind of show we could discuss.”
    “I’d like that. Where should I call you?”
    “Here is fine.”
    I can’t help feeling as if my perceptions that fastened on Jasper are receding at speed. “Sorry, where’s here?”
    “The BBC, where else?”
    “I was only making sure.”
    “Still being careful what you say? I understand. Must run now, but I’ll be waiting to hear from you.”
    “You will. Thanks, Hannah,” I say and plant the receiver on its stand. I’m about to leave my desk for the day when Paula Harding says “Well, Graham.”
    I’ve no idea how long she has been at my back. I could have done with being at least slightly psychic. I work on controlling my expression if not stowing it away as I turn to face her. “Well, Paula.”
    “How would you say that went?”
    “The programme.” When she only gazes up at me I say “My programme, you mean, obviously. I think it made its point, do you?”
    “I expect your guest does. I’ll be sending it to the new management if they didn’t hear it. I think they should.”
    If Hannah admires me for guarding my language, she ought to try talking to Paula. “Why’s that?” I have to ask.
    “You had them in mind, didn’t you? You remembered what was said.”
    “About how we’re all an ad for them, you mean.”
    “You need to play more of those unless you want the management to think you aren’t happy working for them.” Having searched my eyes for happiness, Paula raises her voice. “Just in from Frugo, everyone. At least four advertising breaks per hour in future. Before you head off, Christine, tell Rick, could you?” she says and turns back to me. “Apart from that, Graham, I’d be surprised if they aren’t pleased with the effort you’ve made.”
    I wasn’t aware of making one. “You think they’ll want more episodes like that.”
    “Never be shy of an argument, and here’s a new slogan for you. Speak your mind but make sure it’s worth hearing.”
    I’m not sure how directly this is aimed at me. “Are you saying I should use it in my trail?”
    “Have some imagination, Graham. Think how it fits. Now here’s Miss Ellis to spirit you away.”
    Christine is waiting just not close enough to appear to be trying to listen. She gives Paula a smile so flattened it barely is one and heads for Reception as soon as I leave my desk. Behind us Paula is telling Sammy Baxter “No need to be so formal with the weather forecast. Let the listeners hear how you feel about the weather.” A woman with a signed photograph of Rick Till—a good deal more composed than the tousled fellow I vacated the studio for—has called the lift, and nobody speaks while we’re all in the windowless box. Outside the building Christine crosses the road the moment the traffic lights turn red, and a driver planning to ignore them has to halt with a screech of brakes. Once I join her on the pavement she swings round to scrutinise my face. “Who was on the phone you didn’t want Paula to know about?”
    I feel ambushed. “Was it that obvious?”
    “It was to me.”
    This sounds like a rebuke, which her eyes make more evident though not clear. “Just someone from the BBC up the road,” I tell her.
    “Am I going to have to guess what they wanted?”
    “Of course you aren’t, no more than I am, anyway. Maybe