by Jane Fallon
She turns back to her computer. ‘His call is eleven.’
‘Thanks.’
I accept her offer of a coffee. So, Tommy must have received my email while he was on a day off. Hopefully he’s decided that he needs to see Glen in person to make his complaint. I need to get to him before he does.
It’s almost impossible to concentrate on anything. I just wait for a message from Dee to tell me mission accomplished. I’ve already downloaded the app so that I can watch the cameras. We’ve agreed on a user name and a password we’ll use once it’s set up. I know how to switch on the alert function so that my phone tells me if it’s registered any movement in the room. I’m ready.
Just after half past ten she texts me: All systems go. Try it now.
I open the app, enter my details and there’s my living room. With Dee in it, gurning up at the camera.
Brilliant, I text back. Now get out of there.
And then I wait.
Thankfully I have no meetings scheduled. I’m pretty sure nothing will happen this morning because Hattie won’t risk going home again until lunchtime. She wouldn’t want to bump into me and give away that she hadn’t gone into work after all.
I can’t just sit there waiting for Tommy to turn up, so I call Juliet in, asking if I can speak to her for a moment. Lorraine looks up from her work, but I keep my voice neutral and businesslike. When she closes the door behind her I pick up a script from my desk and wave it at her for Lorraine’s benefit. She takes it from me and sits with it open on her lap.
I tell her about Tommy, and about Hattie. She listens with a suitable expression of shock and horror. I’m just about to mention the webcam when my phone bursts to life with a noise I’ve never heard before.
‘Hold on,’ I say, heart pounding. The screen tells me the webcam has detected movement. I log in and there’s the room again but I can’t see anyone in there. Not in the sliver I can see any way. I look up and Juliet is looking at me quizzically.
‘I’ll explain in a minute.’
I keep watching. Maybe she just pushed open the door to see if anyone was in. It seems a bit early for her to risk it. I told her I was going in at lunchtime. If it was me I’d wait till at least one, half past.
It’s like watching an empty film set. A film of my life but without me in it.
‘I could come back …’ Juliet says. I’d forgotten she was there.
‘Webcam,’ is all I manage to say.
‘Of your house?’
I nod. Don’t take my eyes off the phone. There’s a blur on the screen and I jump. Smokey leaps up on to my desk, sits down and raises one leg in the air for a wash.
‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ I laugh out of nerves. ‘It’s the fucking cat.’
I dismiss the picture, my heart still pounding. ‘That’s what I was about to tell you. We’ve put a webcam in my living room pointing at my desk. If Hattie uses my computer we’ll have the exact time it recorded logged on there too.’
‘Clever,’ Juliet says. ‘And then you’ll just have to prove she was doing it on Roz’s behalf and she’s not just a crazy person.’
My phone makes its strange new noise again and both Juliet and I flinch. Smokey is up and pacing the desk. He jumps off, hopefully heading for somewhere more comfy to sleep. ‘I should have told Dee to shut him out of there,’ I say. Under different circumstances I can’t imagine anything I’d like more than to watch what my cat gets up to when I’m not around.
‘Yes,’ I say, going back to her point. ‘I can get proof that they’re friends. It might be enough to convince Glen. I mean, it’s not like we’re going to court here.’
‘Hopefully. If you need me to watch your phone let me know.’
‘Will do.’ I look at the time. ‘I have to go and face Tommy.’
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ She looks concerned.
‘Why? Do you think he’s going to hit me?’
Juliet laughs. It may be the first time I’ve ever seen her laugh. It changes her face completely. ‘Of course not. Just as moral support.’
‘Oh. Thanks. No, I think I’ll be OK.’
‘You will.’
‘Then my plan is just to sit here all afternoon till I see something. With my sent box up on the screen so hopefully I’ll see who she’s writing to before she deletes it. That way I might be able to do some damage limitation before they see it.’
‘Well, I’m there if you need a loo break.’ She gets up. Undoes the arms of the cardigan that’s sitting across her shoulders, and does them up again.
‘Thanks.’
I make my way over to the studio, feeling sick. I know that there’s a possibility Tommy will go straight from the car park to Glen’s office so I hover outside the doors from where I can keep an eye on both places. He’s notoriously always late so I’m pretty sure I can’t have missed him. I pace up and down anxiously, eyes flicking between the main gate and the two buildings.
Eventually a car pulls in. It looks like there’s a driver and someone sitting in the back. Tommy is currently on a driving ban after being caught doing 120 on the A40, so has to use a car service to get to and from the studio. My heart starts pounding in my ears. I haven’t even worked out what I’m going to say to him. Shit, I should have made a plan.
The car pulls up in front of me and the rear door opens. I’ve almost started stammering out a half-plea, half-apology (what am I apologizing for? I’ve done nothing wrong) when Robbie aka Jono climbs out of the back of the car. Of course. He may have once worked in a garage but he’s still too young to drive himself. I breathe out, plaster a smile on my face.
‘Morning.’
‘All right,’ he says, and then he looks nervous as if he suddenly remembers who I am. ‘What are you doing out here?’
‘Waiting for someone,’ I say as casually as I can. I will him to go inside before Tommy arrives. ‘You OK?’
‘Good,’ he says. He looks even younger when he’s anxious. I can tell he’s dying to ask me how the story conference went. It’s against all the rules but I can’t help wanting to put him out of his misery.
‘If anyone asks, I didn’t tell you this but you have a couple of good stories coming up,’ I say, importing as much meaning as I can into the words without saying anything specific.
His face breaks into a grin. ‘Really? Like what?’
‘Oh no, that’s all you’re getting. Don’t tell anyone I said anything.’
‘No way,’ he says. He gives me a spontaneous hug. It’s so sweet and I’m in such a state of nervous anticipation that I feel tears prickle behind my eyelids. Thankfully he lopes off up the steps before he notices and I wipe my face with the heel of my hand, turning it up to the sun to help dry any tell-tale signs.
When I open my eyes again there’s another car coming through the main gate. I force myself to breathe in and out slowly, in an attempt to calm myself down. It draws up right in front of me and Tommy clambers out of the back seat.
‘Thanks, mate.’
I stand there waiting for him to clock me. Wait for the assault.
‘Morning, darlin’.’
For a second I think everything is OK; he’s taken pity on me. And then I realize that he has absolutely no idea who I am. He’s heading into the building. I need to say something quickly.
‘Tommy, it’s Holly. From the script department …’
He stops dead. Looks back. Scans me up and down.
‘Well, if I’d known that’s what you look like …’
Jesus. I decide to ignore that comment.
‘Look, I really need you to believe it wasn’t me who sent that email. I would never be that disrespectful …’
I don’t add ‘and I wouldn’t fancy you if you were the last man alive’, but I’m thinking it.
‘I got your reply,’ he says. ‘You said all that.’
‘I know. But I wanted to ask you not to speak to Glen. Things have been happening – actually someone’s been trying to get me sacked by sending
stuff out that’s supposed to be from me … I just need a few days and then I’ll be able to prove it’s them. If I can’t, well, you can go and see him then.’
‘So you don’t fancy me?’ he says, and I can’t tell if it’s a test or a challenge. I have no idea what the right answer is.
‘Only joking.’ He laughs. ‘Your face!’
I smile nervously.
He strokes the stubble on his chin. It makes a scratching sound. ‘Lucky for you I’ve had time to calm down. I can keep it to myself for a while longer.’
‘Thank you. Thanks. I really appreciate it. Honestly.’ I tell myself to stop burbling.
He leans in towards me. I can smell last night’s booze under minty toothpaste. ‘Let me know if you fancy that drink.’
It’s not threatening. I think he thinks he’s being charming. So much for the missus and the five kids.
‘I’ve got enough problems in my life,’ I say, chuckling as if I just made a joke.
Thankfully he takes it on the chin.
‘No worries, mate. You sort yourself out.’
‘I will. And thanks again.’
I try to concentrate on work but really I just read the same page over and over again. Every now and then Juliet looks over and raises her eyebrows and I shake my head.
At ten to two my phone chimes. I fumble as I hit the notification to go on to the app. Refresh my computer screen and double-check that my sent box is open. I look up at the main office. Juliet is there alone. It’s a beautiful day and I assume the others have decided to get some fresh air. I beckon her in urgently.
There on the screen is my lodger. Hattie. She looks around the room as if making sure there really is no one there. I check that the footage is recording.
‘Is it her?’ Juliet sits opposite me, on the other side of my desk, and I lay the phone down between us. We can go into work mode if any of the others come back but for now this is more urgent.
‘Yep.’
‘Gosh,’ she says. The understatement of the year.
As we watch, Hattie sits in front of my computer. Clicks the screen on. She consults a piece of paper. Types rapidly.
‘Do you think Roz has written out what she wants her to say?’ Juliet asks.
I stare at my computer screen. ‘Probably.’
And suddenly there it is. In my sent box. An email to Glen entitled ‘Tommy Fletcher’. I go to click on it but it’s already been deleted.
‘Shit. Glen,’ I say. ‘Keep watching.’ I rush out of my office and down the corridor to Glen’s. His door is open but there’s no one in there. I head on down to the general office where, thankfully, his secretary Danielle is at her desk.
‘Someone just sent a stupid joke email from me to Glen. Can you delete it before he sees it?’ I gabble.
‘Sorry, what?’
I repeat it, trying to slow down. ‘It’s a practical joke,’ I add unconvincingly. ‘But it’s really not funny.’
Luckily Danielle and I have always got on. She’s not one of those Rottweiler assistants you come across sometimes.
She looks at her screen. ‘This one?’
I peer round. ‘Yes. I don’t even want to see what it says. Oh, wait …’ It suddenly occurs to me that I need the evidence. ‘I need to print it off. And this sounds insane, but could you take a photo of the screen and text it to me. Just showing the date and time the email arrived. And that it came from me. I don’t have my phone …’
She looks a bit confused. ‘It’s on the email, look.’ She hits print.
‘Yes, it is. Of course. Forget about that bit. I owe you one.’ I take a deep breath.
‘No problem,’ she says, smiling, and hits delete.
Back in my office Juliet is still sitting waiting. ‘She left the room as soon as it had been sent,’ she says when she sees me. ‘Nothing since.’
I hand her the printout of the email. ‘I can’t even look.’
She scans it. ‘More of the same. Forget about it.’
‘I need to make sure I save that clip from the webcam.’ Juliet hands me my phone and I tick the box next to the most recent activity. Then I text it to myself, and to Dee for good measure.
‘Now what?’ she says.
‘Now we have to prove the link between her and Roz.’
34
It’s only a few minutes later. I’m feeling a huge sense of relief that not only did we catch her in the act, but we stopped the email in its tracks. One very toxic train derailed before it reached its destination. Everyone is back from lunch, but the office is quiet. Juliet is at her desk, reading. Lorraine is scribbling notes. Emma mutters quietly into the phone.
There’s a tinny noise and my mobile lights up. Activation alert! flashes on the screen. I jab at the message and the app opens. It’ll just be Smokey. It’s bound to be Smokey. I keep telling myself this even as the image of my living room appears and there she is again. Hattie. I look over at Juliet. I need someone else to witness this with me. But there’s no way I can get her attention without making it obvious.
I bring up my email and open the sent items, flicking my eyes between that and my phone. In my living room Hattie wanders past the camera, then back again, then settles herself at the desk. She looks at the back of her hand as if reading something on there. Clicks the computer back on. Types something in. Sits back. Reads it. Hits another key. I stare at my sent items, terrified to blink in case I miss the name of the recipient before she deletes it.
I hold my breath.
A name flashes up and then is gone almost before I can register it. Malcolm Gardener. The Head of Continuing Series at the channel. Glen’s boss. The capo dei capi.
I’ve only met Malcolm once when he did a set visit a couple of years ago. I remember him as a humourless man in his fifties. One of those people who seems to be grey all over. Hair, skin, clothes. A face you forget the second it’s not in front of you. I know he’s much more important than me. I know he’s the person who has been giving Glen a hard time about the ratings. I know he could have me fired in a heartbeat.
I have no idea who his assistant is so I just dial the main switchboard and ask. An officious-sounding woman answers when I’m put through.
‘Malcolm Gardener’s office.’
I stutter through my request for her to delete the email after printing it off and putting a copy in the internal mail for me so I have a record of the time and date it was sent. She sounds a bit bemused, and who can blame her?
‘I don’t wish to be rude, but I have no idea who you are so I’m not sure I can delete an email meant for Malcolm just because you ask me to.’
‘But it was sent from my account,’ I say. I’m trying to keep half an eye on the screen of my mobile. Hattie is still at my desk.
‘But you see my dilemma,’ Mrs Jobsworth says. ‘I only have your word for that. I could be talking to anyone.’
For fuck’s sake.
‘I know,’ she says. ‘Why don’t you send me another email now from the same account asking me to delete the previous email?’
I’m about to say yes when I realize I can’t. Hattie will see it. She’ll know the game is up.
‘That won’t work,’ I say. ‘It’s hard to explain, but I don’t want the person who sent it to know I’m on to them.’
She sighs. ‘I’m not sure Malcolm would be happy about being part of your little joke.’
‘It’s not my little joke. It’s not a joke at all. Someone is trying to make me look bad by sending random things out in my name.’
‘Oh,’ she says. When she speaks again her voice is softer. ‘I tell you what. I’ll look up your number on the database and then call you on that number. If you answer I’m happy to believe it’s you.’
I don’t quite follow but it sounds as if she’s trying to help so I say OK. I put the phone down and wait. Thirty seconds later it rings and I snatch it up. ‘Holly Cooper,’ I say breathlessly.
‘Holly, hello. It’s Malcolm Gardener’s office –’
‘Yes. Hi. So, are we OK? You’ll print it then delete it?’
‘Yes. I’ll put it in the internal mail right –’
‘Thank you,’ I say, cutting her off. I don’t have time for niceties.
I realize that I’ve been so distracted I haven’t been watching the screen. I look at my mobile first. Hattie is getting up from the desk. I flick my glance back to my computer, to the sent box.
Just in time to see a name disappear from the top before I can read who it was …
I send Juliet a text. Shit. She’s just sent 2 more. I missed the second one.
I see her look at her phone as it vibrates. Shoot a concerned look up at me. I catch her eye briefly.
‘Go and work from home,’ she says five minutes later when she sticks her head round my office door. I look out at the main office. Lorraine is gone from her desk so I assume she’s in the Ladies. ‘That way she won’t have a chance to send any more.’
‘I’m scared I’ll miss something on the way.’
‘Would you be comfortable giving me your email password?’ She looks me right in the eye. I don’t even need to think about it.
‘Yes. Of course. I’ll text it to you and I’ll let you know when I get there.’
I grab up a handful of scripts, knowing I have no intention of looking at any of them. The webcam is showing me an empty room. Or, at least, there’s no sign of Hattie in the section I can see. Now is as good a time as any to make the break.
‘I’m going to work at home this afternoon,’ I say to Emma on my way out, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. To be fair we all do it from time to time, and no one bats an eyelid. ‘I’m totally on the end of the phone and email, though.’
‘OK,’ she says, barely looking up. ‘See you tomorrow if I don’t speak to you.’
I text Juliet my password from the Ladies on the way out, along with Don’t email me anything you wouldn’t want Roz to know about.
On the way to the station I get a reply. Of course. Don’t worry.
She’s in the kitchen, filling the kettle, when I let myself into the flat. There’s no doubt she looks shocked to see me. She recovers quickly, though. Flashes me a mega-watt smile.