Opening theme begins

Leanne:

Wasting Company Time presents Tell No Tales, Episode Ten: A Tale to Tell

Opening theme ends

[SFX: Recording Begins, sounds of traffic and hurried footsteps]

Leo:

Hi, hello, it works. Er, I mean, audio diary of Leo Quinn, assistant to Frank Williamson, etcetera, it works! I think. I’m mostly sure. I spent all night a while back cleaning up the audio of Mrs. Daniels’s interview, and it was so close to being right. There are snippets that are really clear, and some parts that still aren’t audible, but that’s okay. That was last week. I spent all weekend working on the recorder itself, running through ways to tweak the way it picks up sound but also trying to implement some real-time audio-cleanup so that there’s less, I suppose it’d be called post-production? Makes it sound way less nerdy when I call it that. Like I’m in Hollywood or something. Anyway, uh, I’m on my way to Stephen’s house, well, Kara and Lynne’s house. I’m holding my phone like I’m on a call — I mean it’s London I don’t think anyone would exactly care if they saw me talking to myself, but anyway — I’m just so… I kind of rushed here, as soon as I was done. I want Stephen to be the first voice I capture on this recorder, or at least, I mean, the first voice I capture… Properly, y’know? Now that I’m confident it works. His statement could mean everything in this fight. Hell, if I can eventually get this thing to record and playback in real time then we could even make a case for Stephen going up against Better Place in court, how cool would that- oh! This one, I think, uh…

[SFX: Doorbell rings, after a moment, footsteps rush closer and door opens]

Kara:

Leo! Uh, hi? Why…

Leo:

Hi, Kara! Sorry, crap I should have called. Sorry. Just, it works I think. I mean it’s ready. The recorder. For… Stephen?

Kara:

Yeah, yeah, I remember- Really? It’s ready? We could hear his voice?

Leo:

Yep. Not right away obviously, It’ll probably need some editing after, it’s not… it’s not perfect yet but it’s… it works. Can I come in?

Kara:

Oh, yeah, of course.

[SFX: Footsteps, door closes, traffic fades away]

Kara:

Lynne’s out with the kids at tennis, yeah, it uh, it keeps their energy down which god knows we need every now and then, hang on… Stephen, you still there?… Leo? You… Okay?

Leo:

Yep. Yeah, I’m. I’m alright. Sorry. Had a bit of a bad experience recently. But Stephen… I know Stephen. And he doesn’t… You know, the feeling? The goosebumps feeling? He doesn’t do that—

[SFX: Sounds of a marker writing on a whiteboard]

Leo:

(LAUGHING NERVOUSLY) Thanks, Stephen, I appreciate it. And it’s good to see you too.

Kara:

They’ve got the recorder working, apparently, you ready?

[SFX: More writing on the whiteboard]

Leo:

I mean, you can’t just tell us you’ve been singing to warm up your vocal chords then not tell us what you’ve been singing.

Kara:

(SCOFFS) I’m willing to bet it’s Frozen if his choices on film night are anything to go by. Every single time he gets to choose — no, Stephen, don’t even try to defend yourself —every single time, he always sides with the kids. Some tie-breaker he is.

Leo:

Well, if we get this working properly, like real-time playback someday, then you’re going to have to find some other musicals to watch as a family because you’re all gonna get real sick of hearing Stephen singing Let it Go 24/7

Kara:

Worth it.

Leo:

Ok Stephen, let’s sit.

[SFX: Sounds of everyone sitting on the couch]

Leo:

So, I’ve got some questions I’m going to ask. I won’t be able to hear you right away, but I’ll be able to see when you’ve stopped talking, so just, if you’re ready for the next question, just a good long pause should do it ok? And- and don’t worry if there’s anything you don’t get to say this time around, there’ll be more conversations. This isn’t a one-time thing, okay? Okay, let’s get— oh, wait, I should turn this off— just in case, feedback or something…

[SFX: Recording Ends]

[SFX: Recording Begins, office phone making an outgoing call]

Kara (Over phone):

Hello?

Leo:

Kara! It worked. It, I mean, it’s not perfect but it worked, I’ve been editing it like non-stop since yesterday and it’s ready.

Kara (Over phone):

Fuuuck me — Oh, Lucy, do not repeat what mama just said. Lynne! Get in here and tell Lucy to not repeat what mama just said! I’m stepping outside (WHISPERED) holy shit, really?

Leo:

(LAUGHING) Yep, really really. I’ve cleaned up the audio, and I’ve added a voice over to include the questions I asked him, so that there’s more, y’know, context for his answers. I can send it, right now, does email work?

Kara (Over phone):

Yeah, yeah, sure please do! I’ll, uh, I’ll text you my email.

Leo:

Great, it’s an MP3, so it’ll just play on your laptop or anything else, so you can listen right away.

Kara (Over phone):

That’s perfect, everyone’s home so we can listen right now, that’s… Thanks, Leo. Thank you.

Leo:

Nah, don’t thank me. You’re the one who made Stephen feel safe. You gave him a voice I just… y’know, caught it on tape.

Kara (Over phone):

(SNIFFS) o-kay, cheesy, what are you trying to keep a record going of making me cry every time we speak?

Leo:

(LAUGHS) sorry, sorry, I’ll go, I’ll send it right over. But I’ll keep in touch, ok? This isn’t the last you’ll hear of him, or me.

Kara (Over phone):

Holding you to that. Speak soon, Leo.

Leo:

Yeah, speak soon.

[SFX: Phone being hung up]

Leo:

Okay, let me play it back for the scientific record.

Leo (On recording):

So, Stephen, can you tell me a bit about yourself? Just the basics for now, full name, date of birth, just to confirm your identity?

Stephen (On recording):

Of course, my name is Stephen Pritchard, I was born on the 5th of March, 1934. I inherited my father’s accounting company, but sold off my shares and invested them instead of working. There was too much risk of losing my job if anybody found out about my partner, Arthur. I died here, in this home in Islington, with Arthur by my side in 1979, at 45 years old. My heart, I believe. My father had passed away fairly young due to heart problems of his own.

Leo (On recording):

Okay, and can you tell me a little about your after-life, before you met the family you currently live with?

Stephen (On recording):

Yes, I, um… Excuse me. I haven’t had any reason to talk about this for a while. I haven’t had any reason to talk at all for a while. I believe my soul was tethered to this home because Arthur remained here, after I died. He lived alone here for another thirty years. Or, not alone. He was never alone. I think he knew, I think he could feel my… I don’t know what to call it, presence? He would speak to me sometimes. Uncertainly, like he wasn’t completely sure I was there, but like he was trusting that I’d hear him either way. I spoke back, but he never heard me. That was okay. As long as he trusted that I was listening. I could feel myself… Getting stronger, I suppose is the best way to explain it. Over those years with him. It wasn’t until a few years after he died, though, that I became able to touch things, knock things over. Almost like a person again.

That was the moment I accepted that this is what I am now. After Arthur passed, I kept waiting to move on too. Like I would simply fade from existence without him there to anchor me. To dissolve into nothingness, or, preferably, wherever Arthur’s soul was. But that was, well, concrete proof, I suppose, that I was not going to do anything of the sort. I was becoming more alive, not less. The house was bought by a landlord who spent some time redecorating before he finally found tenants, and I tried so hard to make myself small when they moved in. I couldn’t leave the house, and it isn’t big — despite our parents’ wealth, we were hardly flush with cash ourselves, two men living together in our day, it didn’t exactly invite confidence from employers or investors. We lived modestly to make sure that what we did have was enough to keep us in comfort for the rest of our lives. But that meant that after, there was nowhere to hide.

I would spend every day trying to keep silent and unnoticed, moving out of the way of tenants, but… Well, I’m a little clumsy. It would always end the same way. I’d knock something over, bump into something or someone in my haste to move away, and they’d get frightened. Horrified. I became something horrifying. For two decades, the only words that ever passed my lips were the mumbled apologies that would slip out instinctively whenever something went wrong. Always unheard. A few tried to get the landlord to cover the cost of a visit from Better Place, but those that did usually spent a few weeks complaining about the reluctant response they received before eventually moving on. Nobody ever stayed longer than a year. Most were students, young professionals, a year long contract before they changed jobs, left university, fell out with old friends and housemates and moved in with new ones elsewhere. Until Kara and Lynne. Apparently the landlord had reduced the rent in order to encourage the next tenants to sign a lengthier contract. I suppose that worked well for us all.

Leo (On recording):

So, when Kara and Lynne moved in, can you tell me about how you became part of their family?

Stephen (On recording):

Kara and Lynne… It took less than a day before they changed my life. Or, after-life I suppose. I knocked over a lot of boxes on moving day, scared the kids. Kara just took it all in stride, consoled poor, crying Mikey by telling him that I was nothing to be afraid of. That I just lived here and that they should all try and be nice guests in my home. Course they didn’t know it was me yet. But it was still nice to hear, nice to be faced with kindness instead of fear or derision. That night, after everyone had gone to bed, she took out a… (LAUGHS) a ouija board. We got as far as my name before I gave up and spelled out the word ‘pen’ instead. It went against every instinct I’d cultivated over the last twenty years to pick up the pen she handed me. Every part of me that worked so hard to stay quiet, small and apologetic. We stayed up late, and she asked me questions, and I wrote my answers down, her eyes watching the movement of the pen like she was seeing a miracle happen. I made her laugh. I got bold, and witty, things I hadn’t even really been in life. Arthur was all of those things, but I felt him with me that night. “There are no awards for subtlety, Stephen,” he used to say. I felt the truth of that that night.

Lynne took a little longer to win over, but her trust, once earned, is worth having. They built me into their lives, piece by piece. A whiteboard in every room, so that I can communicate wherever I am. An armchair just for me so that nobody has to double-check if I’m already sitting on the couch before they sit. Or, more like, nobody can forget to double-check. Always awkward, when that happens. The kids show me their drawings, come rushing home from school to tell me about their days, Lynne will come to me to talk about her manager at work, or chat to me while she cooks. Kara looks up information on my life. Shares with me what she can, tells me about the people I knew, what happened to them, their kids now, grandkids. They can’t hear or see me, but I feel seen, and heard. That’s what counts. That’s… Yes, that’s what counts.

Leo (On recording):

Thanks, Stephen. Just, one last question. Do you have anything you’d like to say, about Better Place and their removal of ghosts?

Stephen (On recording):

Well, it’s strange. A few years ago, I would have welcomed Better Place. Regardless of what happened to me after. My existence was… at times I almost believed that I was in hell, after all. So many years of isolation. There were times I thought that perhaps Better Place might not really take me to where Arthur was, but I didn’t care. As long as I was gone. I’m so glad they didn’t. I never told anybody this but there were moments, many moments, actually, in life, where I felt the same way. Had somebody offered to resolve the issue during my lifetime it would have been called murder. Regardless of how nicely I asked. In life, things got better when I met Arthur. Not all the way, but mostly. In my after-life, Kara and Lynne were the ones who brought happiness back to me. Everyone deserves the chance to live long enough to see the other side. If you’ll… forgive the pun.

Leo (On recording):

And, just before I go, is there anything else you’d like to say?

Stephen (On recording):

Just… Thank you. To all of you. To Kara, and Lynne, and little Lucy and Mikey. For the kindness. For the armchair reserved just for me, for the framed photo of Arthur on the wall. For playing chess with me and setting books aside for me and for asking my opinion on film nights. For letting me become part of your family. I know you know it. I know I write it often. But I’d like you to hear it from me. For you to know the extent of my gratitude. And to you Leo. I don’t know why you’ve worked so hard to allow me to speak to my family, but I’m grateful to you for that too. Thank you.

Leo:

(NO LONGER ON RECORDING). Oh god, now I’m going to cry again. I can’t believe this. I. This. This is… It changes everything. Not just for Stephen. But… Everything. This can help people. Holy shit this can really help people. I just listened to a ghost thank me for my work in his own voice. A voice of a man that died fifty years ago. He’s been dead fifty years and I had a conversation with him and heard what he had to say! Holy shit! I’ve got to… I don’t know I’ve got to do… something, maybe find another—

[SFX: Mobile phone ringing]

(LONG PAUSE) That’s… Julia? Why is Julia calling me? Oh. Crap. I need to answer I… Er…

[SFX: Recording Ends]

Closing theme begins

Leanne:

Episode Ten of Tell No Tales, A Tale to Tell, was written and performed by Leanne Egan. You also heard the voices of Chris Caserini as Kara, and Cameron Gergett as Stephen. If you enjoyed this episode, the best way to support the show is to spread the word. Leaving us a rating and review in your listening app of choice is a huge help, or you can follow us on Twitter or Tumblr @tellnotalespod Links and information about transcripts can be found in the show notes.Tell No Tales is distributed by Wasting Company Time Productions, under a Creative Commons attribution non-commercial share-alike 4.0 international license. Thank you for listening, and remember: the dead don’t bite.

Closing theme ends