Erik had fallen asleep now, so Sandra turned off the light and left the room. She tidied a little in the hall and the living room, having cleaned up in the kitchen after dinner. Then she sat down at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a magazine, expecting her mobile to ring.

She was completely different on the phone. There she pretended she was someone other than who she was. First and foremost, she dared to think aloud and talk. She might not be that talented at keeping a conversation going, but periods of silence were also permitted. For most people, it was her ear that was most important, her patience and the brief comments. No one knew who she was or what she looked like; she hid behind a voice that sounded empathetic and experienced all at the same time. Or perhaps it was the opposite, that she didn’t need to hide behind that voice because it was her own.

This was something she often thought about. Whether, with a little mental effort, she could disregard her appearance and take the sting out of her anxiety when around people, instead playing the role of a woman standing on a cliff in the wind. She cared and supported, with mild admonishment recalibrating people who had ended up in spiritual imbalance.

But no—no one could consciously suppress their fears and the knowledge of their own weaknesses.

Her mobile vibrated. Ellen was first up. Wonderful, cheerful Ellen, who most often saw the bright side of life. It was the same today, and her mood was infectious. There was a long account of a visit to the swimming baths followed by a request that Sandra talk about her day. She did—albeit taking care to maintain her privacy and being careful to avoid disclosing any identifying details about where she worked or lived. In Ellen she had nothing to fear, but sooner or later she was bound to be saddled with a psycho.

Then there were two calls from the same person about an hour apart. He introduced himself using different names and talked about completely different issues, however. Sandra pretended not to notice, approaching the problems with enthusiasm. The first was to do with a cancer diagnosis and the crisis that had followed it, the second about anxiety relating to something he feared might be considered domestic violence in the eyes of the law, but which was really just physical contact of the rougher kind.

Sandra thought she dealt with all of it well, particularly the second call when she strove not to judge but simply to get the man’s feelings about the whole thing straight. Strengthened by faith in her own objective therapeutic abilities, she took her second call from Kerstin just before midnight.

“I’m glad you’ve called again,” said Sandra.

She really did mean it; she had been looking forward to this call since their last one had ended. Kerstin said nothing.

“How are you?” said Sandra.

“So so,” said Kerstin with some hesitation.