He was followed by a young woman named Ellen who would call almost every evening when Sandra was on duty. She had learning difficulties and seemed rather happy-go-lucky—she just wanted someone to share her day with. Sandra asked questions with interest and listened to the amusing replies. It was an honour being someone’s confidant like this, sharing the daily life of someone whom she would otherwise never have met.

She then quickly dealt with a call from an unhappy mother who was having difficulties with her child who had ended up in a bad crowd.

Then the phone fell silent. That was to be expected. Three calls per shift was usually more than enough to cover the needs of fifty-seven thousand Gotlanders for an evening. Sandra went to get ready for bed. But just as she was about to set the phone to airplane mode it rang, even though it was almost midnight and her shift was due to end.

The conversation fumbled into life.

“Kerstin,” the woman replied with some hesitation. “My name’s Kerstin.”

Her voice was a little raspy; perhaps she’d had a tough life. But it might just be that she smoked a little more than her voice could cope with, or that she was suffering the aftereffects of a cold.

“I’m glad you’ve turned to Friends-on-call, Kerstin. Before we get started, I just have to inform you that if anything you say makes me suspect that you or someone else has committed or is planning to commit a serious crime, I will contact the police. Are you okay with that?”

“Of course.”

“Beyond that, you can be sure that what you say will stay between you and me. Does that sound okay?”

“That sounds good.”

“Great. Was there anything in particular you wanted to talk about?”

“Anything in particular? No, I’m not sure . . .”

“We can talk about anything. I’m here to listen, but the conversation is entirely on your own terms.”

“I’m also a listener,” said Kerstin. “Normally.”

Then she went quiet, and Sandra had to make an effort to keep the conversation going. It was unusual for callers not to have something specific they wanted to discuss.

“You step back and watch? Or do you mean that people come to you with their problems?”

“A bit of both,” Kerstin replied, without developing her answer further.

“Do you find it too much?” Sandra attempted.

“It’s okay.”

“Because it can be all too easy to become the shoulder that everyone wants to cry on.”

“Not for you, apparently.”

“You and I are anonymous to each other,” said Sandra. “That’s the difference. I can’t help you in any way except by listening and trying to cheer you up. If you’re there with a living, breathing person, then there are greater demands on what you do and how you follow up. It can be a tough job to be the one who has to put the pieces back together when someone around you doesn’t feel good.”