The Seymour Tapes

by Tim Lott

  There was nothing between them at all?

  Apart from the party. For once in his life, Alex got drunk. I knew perfectly well that Pamela had a thing about him. A lot of women did. But Alex was never that way inclined – he was uxorious, despite all the problems. Anyway, that night Pamela kept flirting with him. I saw it all. Alex didn’t even find her attractive. She wasn’t that attractive. But I think he felt it was rude to keep refusing her. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings. So, after a few drinks – which, as I say, he wasn’t used to – he kissed her. We all saw it.

  It was innocent?

  It wasn’t just a peck on the cheek, if that’s what you mean. It was a proper kiss. Quite passionate. But I don’t think Alex ever lost control. I’m sure it didn’t go any further.

  What was your reaction when he sacked Pamela?

  It didn’t come as a surprise. She had been getting more and more lax. What can I say? Alex made a silly mistake, which he acknowledged and paid for. He had to let her go. He had no choice. She was becoming a liability. Over-familiar, lazy.

  Did she complain that he was harassing her?

  Not formally. But she contacted me once or twice and implied certain things. I had to take it seriously. The complaints procedure would have been set in motion if she had spoken to the practice manager. But I didn’t believe her for a moment.

  And you have no doubt that Alex was innocent in the matter of himself and Mrs Madoowbe?

  There’s always room for doubt, but it would go against everything I knew about him as a man and a doctor. And as my brother.

  Then I expect you would say that about this whole affair.

  I suppose so.

  Did you suspect at any point that Alex was installing cameras in the surgery?

  Not at all. He probably came in and did it when the surgery was closed. Did a neat job. Of course, it was wrong to spy on patients but, given his situation, I can’t say I blame him.

  But it went beyond that, didn’t it?

  If you believe what you read in the tabloids.

  I can confirm that he took tapes to show Sherry Thomas at Cyclops Surveillance.

  I have no comment to make, except that Alex was a good doctor and a good man, and that we are beholden to show some respect for the dead.

  And for the truth.

  As I say, I have no further comment to make.

  Cyclops Surveillance Systems, Tape Two, Saturday, 5 May

  Author’s Note: It is exactly one week since Dr Seymour first visited the shop. The weather is much the same as it was on his first visit – hot and sunny.

  Sherry Thomas is dressed differently from Dr Seymour’s previous visit, though again she is smart and formal. However, instead of a grey suit, she is in a black dress, with a pale blue cardigan and strappy black shoes with high heels. Her hair is up, and she is wearing an expensive, glittering necklace. As before, her makeup is heavy. Her face seems pale, and her lips are a remarkably vivid shade of crimson.

  Dr Seymour is wearing sandals, a pair of blue shorts and a faded white T-shirt bearing the insignia of a well-known pharmaceutical company. He is neat – Dr Seymour always dressed neatly, even on his rare days off – but observers wishing to infer that he was trying at this early stage to seduce Sherry Thomas would have to concur that he had made little effort with his appearance. Again, he has clearly been sweating profusely.

  Sherry Thomas looks up and smiles when he enters the shop.

  – It’s icy in here. Can’t you adjust the air-conditioning?

  She begins to punch buttons on a desk calculator in front of her.

  – I won’t be a moment. I’m in the middle of something. There are just some very important – Damn.

  It is apparent from viewing the section of the videotape preceding Dr Seymour’s arrival that she was in the middle of nothing whatsoever – apart from medicating herself for her apparently frequent severe headaches, fidgeting and pacing up and down the shop. But now she makes a great show of punching buttons and making notes on a small pad in front of her. At one point she licks her pencil before she writes something. She does this slowly, almost theatrically, and there is a seductive element in it. However, if Dr Seymour notices, he gives no sign of it. He sits quietly while she feigns completing her work. Then, without looking up, she speaks.

  – I see you’ve decided to keep the equipment, then.

  – Have I?

  – Haven’t you? Unless it’s concealed about your person somewhere.

  – I found it more useful than I expected.

  – Was it interesting?

  – Watching people talk rubbish is the opposite of interesting.

  – Not your cup of tea, then?

  – It had its moments, I suppose.

  – Did you find out whether or not the nanny was stealing money from you?

  – No. We sacked her anyway.

  – If you didn’t find out what you needed to find out, in what sense was the equipment of use to you?

  Dr Seymour seems uneasy with this question, and shifts uncomfortably in his chair, torn, perhaps, between keeping his counsel and sharing what he has learned with Sherry Thomas. She sits forward earnestly, as if she senses that a key moment in their fledgling relationship has arrived.

  – Just useful.

  She holds her gaze on Dr Seymour for several more seconds, then rises abruptly from her desk. Her dress has ridden up her thighs and he stares at them blatantly, then checks himself and turns away his gaze. She makes her way to the back room of the shop. As if to cover his embarrassment, Dr Seymour speaks, a little more loudly than is natural for him.

  – Where are you going?

  – To turn down the air-conditioning. You’re cold, aren’t you?

  While she is out of the room, Dr Seymour examines her desk. He notices the pills she has recently taken, picks up the bottle and inspects it. Just as he replaces it, she enters the room. When she speaks her voice is neutral, brisk.

  – That should be better. Warm things up a bit.

  She sits down at her desk – again, apparently, being careful to expose the maximum amount of thigh. Then her gaze rests on the bottle of pills.

  – I get headaches. The heat can make them worse.

  – I’m sorry.

  – I’m OK for the moment. My therapist says they’re psychosomatic anyway.

  – You need a therapist?

  – Doesn’t everyone? Anyway, you know I get headaches, don’t you? You had a little snoop.

  Dr Seymour makes no reply.

  – Are you always so curious? Or just bored? But, then, boredom’s a terrible thing, isn’t it?

  – I suppose.

  – Most of the trouble in the world is caused by people not knowing what to do with themselves. Would you like a cigarette?

  – Yes. But no.

  Now she reaches into her desk, as on the first visit, and takes out a full packet of Marlboro Red. She has delicate, slender hands. The varnish on her fingernails matches the colour of the cigarette packet.

  – Sure you don’t want one?

  –I do, but I’m not going to have one.

  – Suit yourself. Though sometimes I think it’s best to be who you are. Christ!

  Now she touches her forehead, and screws up her face.

  – I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.

  Dr Seymour looks concerned, reaches for the bottle of pills and inspects them again.

  – These are pretty powerful beasts. You must have a real struggle with those headaches.

  – I’m fine. It’s like a kind of ice-cream headache. A brain-freeze. Agonizing for a couple of seconds, then it goes.

  – You were saying that it’s best to be who you are.

  – It’s one of the axioms of my philosophy.

  – Why are you telling me your… philosophy?

  – Why not? God, you English are so damn private. What’s the payoff for putting all these walls up around you? You should open up a bit.

  – Th
is is the philosophy you want to tell me about?

  – Not exactly.

  – What, then?

  – It’s the idea that – well, we just spend so much time watching ourselves. Making sure we do the right thing. Whacking ourselves with an invisible stick every time we cross some line we’ve drawn in the sand. Maybe some people should just do whatever they want instead of spending a lifetime ruled by fear and guilt. Never really living because they’re too afraid. But what are they really afraid of? The gun they’re holding at their own head. And it’s only their finger on the trigger. Is that a life? Is that your life? What did you do with the equipment, Alex?

  There is a pause of several seconds before he speaks again.

  – I watched.

  Sherry Thomas shifts in her chair. Her lips are slightly parted. Her tongue is clearly visible, just touching the underside of her teeth.

  – That’s what it’s for. Where did you put it?

  – In the front room.

  – Nobody noticed?

  – It passed without comment.

  – Where did you put the receiver?

  – In the attic where I have a room. Nobody goes up there except me.

  – What did you see?

  Now Dr Seymour speaks almost pleadingly, as if he is uncomfortable at being drawn into this degree of intimacy, and lacks the power to resist.

  – I don’t see why it’s any of your business.

  Now there is a complete and sudden change in Sherry Thomas’s demeanour. She sits up straight, picks up a pen and taps it furiously on the table. Again, she rubs her forehead.

  – Maybe you should just go.

  – But – hold on –

  – I thought we had an arrangement, an understanding. It’s impossible to conduct any proper business without a modicum of trust. Trust, Alex. I know it might seem odd talking about trust in a business that’s primarily concerned with spying on people. But I know – from long experience in this game – that people who don’t trust anybody at all… well, they go crazy. Now you have to decide who you’re going to trust. Because I can help you find out what you need to know. But only if you have a little confidence in my integrity.

  – Trust you? I don’t even know you.

  She waves away this comment as if it were patently absurd.

  – You can bring me back my equipment immediately. Today. Or you can let me help you. Which is it to be? What did you see?

  For a moment Dr Seymour does not move. Then he crumples. He purses his lips and gives a slight nod. At last he speaks, quietly at first, then with growing animation, as if the subject matter is drawing him in as he recounts it.

  – Most of it was very boring. Nothing much happening. Yawning, empty spaces in conversations. Crushing, deadly banality. No one listening to anyone else. Pauses, silences, fidgeting. Meaningless, half-heard comments. It was… terrifying. You watch these tapes for a few hours, and you think, Is this all life is? Have you seen this film? What happened on Corrie? What’s for dinner? I’ve lost this – do you know where it is? What did he say? What did she say? I mean, obviously, one lives life, so you should know what it’s like. But seeing it on film, hour after hour, it was depressing. It’s as if life is being squandered, and you suddenly have a window on how empty it is.

  – That’s what life looks like. That’s the heart of it.

  – But eventually I found something. A few… snippets.

  Now he tells her about the cigarettes, about Victoria’s assignation with Macy Calder on the sofa, about his wife’s ambiguous conversation with Mark Pengelly. Sherry Thomas’s body language and facial expression have changed. Now she seems engaged, fascinated. She leans forward, and Dr Seymour does too, conspiratorially. At one point their heads are only inches apart.

  – None of it is conclusive, she says, very softly, when he has finished.

  – Except the cigarettes.

  – Except the cigarettes. To make you give up and keep puffing away herself suggests a certain cynicism. A certain mendacity.

  – I don’t think so. I don’t think Sam’s like that. She’s just being a bit silly.

  – Do you think it’s admirable always to put a positive slant on everything?

  – There’s no harm in giving people the benefit of the doubt.

  – Isn’t there?

  – You can’t just look for the worst in people.

  – I’m a professional. I just look at the evidence. My conclusions aren’t informed by prejudice or affection or even dislike. I’m just pointing out that she deceived you. And, as a consequence, it makes the conversation with Mr Pengelly more suspicious than it would otherwise have been. Have you noticed anything about her that’s changed recently?

  – She’s – she’s started to look after herself. For the first time since we had the baby.

  – Look after herself how?

  – Better clothes. New hairstyle. Working out at the gym from time to time.

  – Really? Well, let’s not jump to conclusions.

  – I’m not jumping to conclusions. You are.

  – Not at all. It’s only evidence that interests me. Your daughter, for instance. I think the evidence there is inconclusive. She’s a nice girl, yes?

  – That’s what I used to think. Now I’m not so sure.

  – Do you think she’s right?

  – About what?

  – About you being weak.

  – No. She’s very wrong.

  Sherry Thomas claps her hands and lets out a low, musical laugh.

  – She is. She is wrong. So, Alex, what are you going to do?

  – I’m not sure.

  – You’ll be wanting to hold on to the equipment.

  – For a little while. Until I’ve got things cleared up a bit.

  – Of course.

  – And are you completely happy with it? Technically?

  – As far is it goes, I suppose.

  – And how far is that?

  – Not that much happens in the front room. Nothing that anyone wants to keep hidden, anyway. I mean, if Guy or Victoria…

  – You could have a second camera in their room for very little extra expenditure. Hooked up to the same receiver in your room.

  – Really? That’s interesting.

  She gets up and goes to one of the glass cabinets that fill the wall space.

  – No. This is interesting.

  She takes out what looks like an ordinary Sony Handycam.

  – They’ve withdrawn these now because of ‘public outcry’. Corporate hypocrisy is more like it. They’re amazing. All you have to do is fit an A35 filter on it, which I’ve done, and use the infrared night-shooting gizmo.

  – Then what happens?

  – Have a look.

  She switches on the camera and passes it to Dr Seymour He takes it and puts the viewfinder to his eye.

  – So what?

  – You’re pointing it at the wrong thing.

  – I am?

  – Point it at me.

  Now she leans against the edge of the desk, legs crossed, a playful expression on her face. Dr Seymour aims the camera at her. He stares through the viewfinder, waits a moment, then puts it down almost immediately. He looks amused and faintly shocked.

  – My God.

  – Quite something, isn’t it? Only works if you use it in daytime. She giggles.

  – You’re a doctor so it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

  – It’s impossible.

  Author’s Note: The Sony Handycam with the A35 filter was withdrawn in 1998 because it is capable of ‘seeing through’ clothes when the night filter is used in daylight conditions. The Sony Corporation apologized and discontinued the feature. Only a few models remain in existence.

  – Nothing’s impossible any more. You’re beginning to see that, aren’t you?

  – Perhaps.

  She replaces the camera and closes the cabinet.

  – It’s not for sale. I keep it for my amusement. It’s different f
or me.

  – How is it different?

  – You see people as bodies, don’t you? They don’t do anything for you.

  – What do you mean?

  – You don’t get turned on every time a pretty woman comes into your surgery and takes her clothes off, do you?

  – I don’t think I know you well enough to answer that question honestly.

  Sherry Thomas laughs.

  – Perhaps that’s wise. After all, you don’t know who might be listening. Getting hot for one of your patients could get you into a lot of trouble.

  Author’s Note: Sherry Thomas’s bugging of Dr Seymour’s mobile phone would explain how she seems to show prescience about the matter of Pamela Geale and Mrs Madoowbe, because Ms Geale has been making her threats through Dr Seymour’s mobile phone. To Dr Seymour, however, this must have seemed uncanny, and quite possibly increased his identification with Sherry Thomas, making him feel that he was in some mysterious way ‘understood’.

  – How is work, by the way?

  – It’s OK. There have been a few problems, I suppose. A bit of a situation.

  She does not respond. From the tapes, it is clear that she is adept at using silence to prompt others to speak. It is a technique much favoured by, among others, journalists and therapists. Clearly, Dr Seymour is vulnerable to this and seems to find long silences discomfiting.

  – There was this woman. She came to see me. She was a Somali – a Muslim. Very young. She was in pain – said she’d fainted. I suspected an ectopic pregnancy, so I… She misunderstood me. Couldn’t speak English very well. My initial brief examination suggested she’d been the victim of some kind of sexual violence. Anyway, she took all her clothes off. I didn’t ask her to. I just asked her to get under the sheet and remove the lower part of her clothing. And at that moment my receptionist walked in. She drew the wrong conclusion. She made a big fuss about the patient being naked. I had to fire her.

  – Because of her complaint about the patient?

  – No, because she walked in without knocking.

  – That seems a little extreme. Were any other factors at work?

  Author’s Note: Again, it would have been clear to Sherry Thomas from her telephone bug that other ‘factors’ were at work.

  – We had a kind of… I don’t know. Something stupid. I was drunk. She got the wrong idea.