Sounds Like Radio Episode 16
Gerry had been on a high for days. She could now, surely, describe herself as a sound engineer.
Even if nobody else said so, she knew she’d earned the title during that phone-in.
Gerry was walking home one evening, wondering if Cesca had made her trip to Mr Chopra’s daughter’s house yet, and noticed someone at the bus stop as she passed by, someone whose back she thought she recognised, with sleek black bobbed hair.
She walked round to the street side.
“Monica,” she said.
Monica jumped.
“Oh, hi, Gerry.”
“You look tired.”
“I’m in a good mood, actually. I am on my way home. Kevin and I are having a meal together.”
Gerry was unsure what to say. Monica laughed.
“I know, that’s a normal thing for a married couple to do.
“But I don’t think it’s happened in our house for months, not until he got ill.
“He has had to sit still for a bit. I’ve been able to shift the sheets of MDF propped against the dining table and make the place look half normal.
“He hasn’t been able to ‘nip back’ to the studio to do . . .” She sighed.
“To do whatever he does.”
Monica looked at Gerry.
“I know, I must look pathetically pleased, but this stir-fry may be my last chance before he’s back at work and back to muttering about a trip to buy seasoned timber in Suffolk for a fitted wardrobe.
“I’ve got some time with my husband.”
“I suppose that if you talked about getting a professional in –”
“I’ve tried, a hundred times,” Monica said. “He’s creating our perfect home. But I need it before I die!”
A double-decker appeared in the distance and Monica stood up.
“I had a really long phone call with my old friend Mae Ling in Hong Kong.
“If Kevin knew the cost of the international calls!
“What would I do without Mae? One old friend is all you need.” She picked up the bag.
“Oh, yes,” Gerry said. “Send Kevin my best.” She paused.
“You might mention that the mental health phone-in went off without a blip.”
“I will.”
As Gerry walked away she reflected on Monica’s Hong Kong friend. She felt lucky that she didn’t need other people to share her thoughts with.
But it had been interesting to hear Bronwen’s voice in the phone-in.
It had put her in mind of the old canteen at the council, the one before they moved buildings, with the damp tuna sandwiches and the dated posters about litter and benefit claims.
She wished now that she had taken Bronwen’s details – not to seek her out, just so she had them “up her sleeve”.