Telling Silences

By Geraint Ellis

Back Cover:
Sixteen and a half year old Annie has attempted suicide. We need to know why. But we also need to know why the therapist is taking such an apparently unhealthy interest in her. Annie’s mother, Kim, is a dizzy, New-Age-Butterfly-Brained person who has little perception of the real world. She is frequently absent and leaves Annie and her brother Nick to fend for themselves.
Meanwhile, in ‘hearing’ the innermost thoughts of psychologist Mark Forrester, we often know more about him than even his personal supervising therapist, Olivia.
(An intriguing back-story emerges ...) Olivia stresses the professional necessity of adhering to an ‘arms-length’ policy with all clients ... Will he always do this? Or in the final outcome will the therapist’s heart overrule his head? ...
But Annie must be our main concern for, as Mark already knows, 1 in 10 of those who attempt suicide get it right second time around ... Twists and turns abound, as the story rapidly gathers pace, then, in the final page explodes with a revelation that leaves the imagination of the reader running wild long after the story has ended ...

(This story is so scened and set that it could be played as a theatre piece, radio or TV Play)

Guide for Readers:
1: ‘...’ denotes silence or, when extended, the passing of time.
2: Words enclosed by [ ] indicate the thoughts of the narrator Mark and, later, the thoughts of his therapist Olivia.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Geraint Ellis
• Release date: Jan 29, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301770113

Geraint Ellis

Born on the Isle of Anglesey - a stone’s throw from the ancestral home of the Tudors, the author hails from a long line of creative artists who lived in Beaumaris. His great, great, great grandfather born a decade before Beethoven, was an organ builder and musician. (Google, Lewis Ellis Anglesey) Educated in Germany, Oxford and York, the author’s professional career was in Education in England. He retired at the age of fifty two, and returned to live in his native Wales. He is married to Margaret, and they have two sons, Matthew and Robert.

Book preview

Telling Silences

Geraint Ellis

Copyright 2012 Geraint Ellis

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Telling Silences

‘The face is the mirror of the mind and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart’

Saint Jerome

I was nineteen and, in an early college essay I’d been asked to explain what in the psychological counselling process would ‘mend’ the person in my care. I was nineteen; I had no fear of appearing too eager. And in moments of utter idealism I wrote that the answer lay not necessarily in the verbal exchanges, but in the silences between words. Answers surface; compromises are made. I even used a music metaphor. ‘Riding the Silences’ I wrote, or, ‘Sospirando, (sighing) an Italian musical term that tells the performer how to play the melody; a term that explains why music will not contain enduring power unless it is broken up into phrases, and how each of the phrases must be briefly separated by telling silences: Silences that inform both parts. Telling silences’. That phrase remains with me to this day. I still believe it. Indeed, in my youthful exuberance I went further by referring to the great aria from Handel’s ‘Rinaldo’ (‘Lascia Ch’io Pianga’, a melody marked, ‘Sospirando’. Type it in. Hear those silences) and, with great confidence, stated that this is ‘a piece of music that absorbs and submits its enduring power from the silences between each phrase’. And, by the same token, I maintained, ‘when two people meet face to face and attempt to get at the core of their anxieties, it is the silences that bring about the enduring power of mutual discussion, as the concerns of both are brought to the surface: Telling silences’. My essay came back marked boldly in red ink, ‘Forrester; there are vacancies for people like you in the college Madrigal Society’.

No two cases are alike; that’s taken as read. There may admittedly be similarities in the circumstances of one or two of the clients I meet, but never in my twenty years’ experience had I felt so demoralised and, in a sense, humiliated at the realisation that I could do so little to help in this instance. The silences told me nothing. They were a dysfunctional family certainly. Dealing with cases like this was a common feature of my work however, and for this reason alone I should have made relatively rapid progress along some path or other. But there were no familiar paths for me to follow, no clues to pick up on. So what had brought about a situation in which a pretty sixteen and a half year old girl decided that, for her, death was the preferred option?

While it’s easy for me to tell you that the events I now relate happened over a relatively short space of time; a few months, no more, it would be unprofessional on my part to tell you precisely where this happened. Likewise, I could never tell you the true names of the persons involved. But what I can tell you is that it happened in and around my place or work, my consulting room. But the irony here is that by withholding information from you this way I do in fact place you in a position of trust, for I invite you the reader to become the invisible eavesdropper in the confession box of my clients and myself. And, because my own conclusions are made only as a result of my pre-possessions, and because I see only through the distorted lens of my own idiosyncrasies, I suspect you will gain the over-view, the objective perspective, far more quickly than me.

Annie: 1

Ok, so you want to be evangelised or something? Look: I’m a hopeless case – you just can’t help me. I’m a loser: A born loser. Ok?

That’s a good word Annie

A loser?

I’m sure you understood I meant ‘evangelised’ … so I’ll tick one box immediately – ‘Has a sense of humour’ …No, what I’d like you to understand is that from my own experience I already know that when two people meet and really collaborate … well then things work out for the best … To say ‘no’ to any particular privilege, technique or approach we may have at our disposal could be a backward step for us … I have to engage with your wisdom while you, I hope, will engage with mine and …

Well I’m sorry to disappoint you early on, but I – Annie Galbraith, have no wisdom otherwise I wouldn’t be here … while you certainly have no wisdom otherwise you’d already know that I have no wisdom otherwise I wouldn’t even be here. Got it?

Fair enough; point taken. But at least I know that you’re here because your mother Kim asked me to see you. Why did she do that do you think?

You already know.

Well yes; she gave me some information … she told me she was worried about what you’d done, and that she feared you might do it again, given the right circumstances and …

Right circumstances? Is that what she said? She doesn’t know a thing. She doesn’t know anything except … …

Except what Annie?

Well, except that she found me and called the ambulance. That’s it! She knows nothing else. If you ask me, she should be sitting in this chair talking to you now, not me.

Fair enough. Ok, shall we talk about …

Why do you always say that?

Say what?

You keep saying ‘Fair enough’ when you can’t think what the fuck to say next. And by the way; it’s a pretty condescending attitude don’t you think?

Now we have two good words Annie.

Evangelised and condescending?

No I was talking about my two words – ‘fair enough’. You’ve seen through me already Annie. You’re not a loser … more of a psychologist I’d say. And by the way, you are right. My ‘fair enough’ gives me a second or two to regroup my thoughts.

Fair enough … … …

[Annie yawns, gets up, and then walks around the room inspecting every detail like a detective visiting the crime scene. I ask her whether it meets with her approval. She pulls a disapproving face while still scrutinising but then returns to her chair]

So, Annie … Look; I know very little about you and …

You don’t know anything? Aren’t you guys supposed to do some homework first? Ask questions from people who know you and …

Who knows you best?

Well my mother doesn’t. And you probably know I haven’t even got a father … well I have, but he hasn’t been seen since mum told him she was pregnant with me. And you know how long ago that was don’t you?

I do. You were born very nearly seventeen years ago. You see, I …

I can’t believe it! You actually know something about me! What a …

I also know you have an older brother who is …

Yeah, Nick. Nick listens to what I say. But yeah, there’s just me and Nick. He’s only twelve months older than me though … But let’s …

But let’s what? Leave Nick out of this. Ok? Just leave him out of it! I’d rather die than have you interrogate him like some SS …

Is that how you see me? An interrogator? That’s a new one on me Annie. My wife might just have been …

‘Has a sense of humour’. You get a tick for that as well – so we both get a tick

Thank you … … … …

So aren’t you supposed to have a white coat on with tiny specs dangling on your nose and a stethoscope clapped round your neck or something?

I’ll try to remember to do that next time. Shall we …

Next time? Are you kidding? No way. No, look; I promised to see you. I’ve seen you. I didn’t say I’d move in with you. And I never promised anyone I’d see you more than once. Ok?

[I nod and wait]

Aren’t you prepared for this? Look; you’ve barely asked me a question since I arrived. Please don’t tell me you get paid for doing this stuff? God … God, Nick should be doing this stuff, he really …

Nick?

Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already? Yeah, Nick. That’s my bruh – ther. Next of kin.

So Nick’s into psychology?

No; stupid. No. But Nick’s not too sure what to …

[I raise my eyebrows and wait]

Look; I told you before … just leave Nick out of this … Leave Nick out. Ok?

[I offer an approving nod. I wait. I wait a few seconds. She looks away, then for the first time in the session she looks appealingly at me. Her eyes lock onto mine. I see something real though I know not what. I raise my eyebrows, this time to show that I understand whatever pain she feels. I half smile. I wait.]

At least you’re a cool guy.

My wife wouldn’t necessarily … She …

Ok, so you get another tick. Hey I didn’t get around to telling you why I kind of chose you. It’s because of your name. With a name like yours you’d get first choice of all the girls in college. It’s cool … so do I get to say to them, ‘My therapist is Professor or Mr Mark Forrester?’

Just call me Mark if you like.

Is this Brad Pitt playing Brad Pitt or what? You’re winding me up aren’t you? … Crazy! Ok, Mark it is. You said it! I shall forthwith call you Mark. And I shall insist you call me Annie even though my full name