by Peter Hey
‘Hi Dave.’
‘Hi Janey. Look, I was at a loose end and I realised I hadn’t spoken to you for a while. Just thought I’d call to see how you were.’
‘I’ve been better, if I’m honest. I guess.’
Dave read the understatement accurately. ‘What’s wrong? Something getting you down, babe?’
‘I’m being stupid again.’ replied Jane hesitantly. ‘It’s just that he’s had a haircut.’
‘Haircut? Who’s had a haircut? And what does it…’ Dave sounded totally confused. ‘I mean, haircut?’
‘Tommy’s cut his hair. It’s really short. And it wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to still have his Afro.’
There was a silence as Dave’s mind tried to process the information. ‘I don’t understand. Is something going on between you two?’ His tone changed to one of incredulity. ‘You and Tommy?’
‘No, there’s nothing going on between me and Tommy.’
‘So why do you care if the bloke’s cut his hair? And why would it upset you so much if there was something going on. You’re not the silly sort, Jane.’
‘Mrs Metcalfe, across the road, saw someone who looked like Tommy, with short hair, breaking in. Well, she didn’t see him breaking in as such, but she saw him acting suspiciously.’
‘Sorry, Jane, are saying you’ve had a break-in or not?’
‘Yes. And they didn’t take anything. Well they did, but they just dumped it round the corner. But they hacked into my laptop. And well, as I said, Tommy has had a haircut. And I’m just scared he’s working too hard, and it’s making him unwell again and a bit, you know, obsessive. And Sarah says he fancies me, well, more than that actually, and—'
‘Jane, Jane, Jane! Slow down a bit. You’re losing me. Talk me through this. From beginning to end.’
Jane took a deep breath. ‘Sarah reckons Tommy confessed he was in love with me—'
‘No shit, Sherlock,’ interrupted Dave. ‘I was never convinced you were cut out to be a detective. Sorry, I don’t mean that.’
‘You knew Tommy had the hots for me?’
‘For God’s sake, Jane. He used to look at you like a little lost puppy dog. If he wasn’t a wet dishcloth and totally out of your league I might have warned him off. Anyway, carry on with the story.’
‘Well, I’d been getting more spam than usual. It looked like someone was specifically targeting me. Trying to get me to download something dodgy. When that failed they broke in, hacked directly into my laptop and tried to make it look like a burglary. They’ve been reading my emails and turning on the camera. Watching me.’
‘Christ, Jane! Has this gone to the cybercrime boys?’
‘No, of course not! I reported the break-in, before I knew, well I don’t know… Before I thought it might be Tommy. But I don’t want to get him into trouble. He’s obviously ill again. Maybe. Or maybe I’m the ill one suspecting him.’
‘Jane, come on. Think straight. Sure, Tommy could do the hacking bit. No problem. But housebreaking? Let’s get real here. The guy’s frightened of his own shadow. He’s got no form, not the vaguest sniff of it.’
‘That’s not 100% true,’ said Jane reluctantly. ‘He came from a pretty rough estate. He had this older cousin who was bad news. Bullied Tommy along on a couple of break-ins when he was twelve or thirteen. The cousin ended up banged to rights, but kept quiet about Tommy’s involvement. He still has nightmares about it coming to light. He told me about it once and made me promise not to tell you.’
Dave puffed doubtfully down the phone line. ‘I still don’t buy it. It’s one thing being dragged along by someone else. It’s something totally different having the guts to do it yourself. But we need to get to the bottom of it. If it’s not him, it’s some other stalker creep who needs a damn good slapping down—'
‘I simply need to talk to him,’ said Jane calmly. ‘I just need to think how to put it. It’s a horrible thing to accuse a friend of doing.’
‘Do you want me to have a word?’ offered Dave. ‘If he’s still at the same address, I could pop round this afternoon. I’d soon clear it up.’
‘I don’t doubt you would. I know you and your words. No, thanks for the offer, it’s something I need to do myself.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, thanks, Dave. You’ve been a big help. Honest. Just talking it through has helped me get a bit of clarity. I’m feeling much better. You’re right, it’s serious and I need to pull my finger out and talk to him. I just need to work out the best way of doing it.’
‘Sometimes you can overthink things. The direct approach is often—'
‘Yes, thanks, Dave. But what you and I mean by directness is somewhat different.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Look, I’m going to go now. I owe you again. Thanks for ringing. Bye now.’
You sure?’
‘I’m sure. Thank you, but I need to go.’
‘Bye, Janey. Look after yourself, hear?’
Jane hung up and then stared at her phone, wondering if she should make the call immediately rather than prevaricating any longer. After a short delay she went into her contacts and pressed dial.
The call was answered immediately, but not by Tommy.
‘Dave, it’s me again.’
‘Hi Janey. Second thoughts?’
‘Dave, I know what you’re like. I know you just want to help. But I mean it. Please don’t go and see Tommy. I’ll never talk to you again if you do. You’ll scare the life out of him and that’ll hurt me more than he ever could, even if he has gone a bit weird. I can handle Tommy. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, I understand. But—'
‘No buts, Dave. I’ll sort it out and let you know how it goes. Don’t worry, just leave it to me. I’m not your responsibility anymore. Remember?’
‘I remember.’
‘Thank you. And, Dave… look, thank you for still caring.’
‘Janey, how many times… I always cared. I think I should come and see you. I could drive up, at the weekend say. I’m worried. You’re sounding a bit, well, not yourself. Not your good self anyway. And, if I’m honest, I miss you.’
‘Let’s not go there.’ Jane’s dismissal was automatic. ‘I think I’d better ring off again,’ she added quickly for fear of changing her mind. ‘As I said, I’ll let you know how it goes.’’
Jane hung up for the second time and slowly raised her eyes to the ceiling, where they fixed on a small cobweb in the corner above a cupboard. Everything, everybody, was flawed if you stared hard enough. Would it really be so bad if her ex-husband did come up? Perhaps she should have offered a more encouraging response. But she knew how impetuous he could be. She hadn’t actually said no. And if she did find him standing on her doorstep, how would she react?
The meeting
It was only half an hour’s drive away, on the right side of the city centre. Tommy’s meeting was scheduled to finish at 3:00 pm and Jane arrived in the car park ten minutes early. He didn’t actually come out until twenty past. At first he looked flustered, but on spotting her his face broke into something else, something she read as relief. Was he just happy to see her, or was it the expression of a man whose misdemeanours have caught up with him and no longer has to hide?
‘Jane, I’m so sorry I’m late. It just dragged on. Some of the guys were upset and wouldn’t shut up about it.’ He quickly looked over his shoulder to check none of the aforementioned guys had followed him out.
‘It’s not a problem,’ she answered with a shrug. ‘I know meetings overrun. The sun’s shining and it’s… well, it’s a rather soulless dump round here, to be honest.’ She smiled unconvincingly at her own attempt at humour. ‘I thought they had a flash head office in London?’
‘They do, but it’s cheaper to stick the computer staff out here in Derby. I guess it’s the geographic equivalent of putting them in a windowless basement. Did you watch the IT Crowd on TV?’
‘Not really my thing,’ replied Jane, dismissively
shaking her head. ‘It all looks pretty new.’
‘Used to be the site of the locomotive works for the old Midland Railway.’ His eyes scanned the surroundings. ‘I guess this is what all modern industrial estates look like. They know the buildings probably won’t be standing that long. No need to make them interesting.’
Jane shrugged. ‘So where can we get a cup of coffee?’ she asked.
‘The station’s probably the best bet. It’s just round the back.’
‘Lead the way.’
As they walked, he began to expand on the reason the meeting had become heated. ‘The company’s been bought out. There’ve been rumours, but it happened really suddenly. They’ll probably place a moratorium on all new software development. They’ll want to save money by merging systems – easier said than done, obviously. In the meantime, we’ve been told to take a few days off until they know what’s happening.’
‘Gosh, after all that work you’ve put in.’ She put a comforting hand on his shoulder. ‘How do you feel about it?’
‘It could be a relief, to be honest. Maybe the pressure’s off. I’m just a bit scared they’ll decide to resume again in six months and drag me back in.’
She still had her hand in place and pulled him to a stop. ‘Tommy, sweetheart, you’re an independent contractor. If you don’t want to do it, just say you’re no longer available. They can’t expect you to be at their beck and call if they’ve pulled the plug on you.’
‘You’re right,’ he grinned. ‘With any luck I’m a free man. I’ll be a poorer one, too, but I can go back to my old job and things will be okay again. I may have a bun with my latte to celebrate.’
There was a ubiquitous coffee-chain outlet in the station concourse and Tommy insisted on paying for the order. Jane declined the pastry and asked for her usual Americano with a splash of milk. She found a table in the window overlooking the passing traffic of passengers and waited for Tommy to bring over the drinks and sit down. He seemed to have had second thoughts about the bun.
‘Erm, you said there was something you wanted to talk to me about face-to-face?’ Tommy sounded nervously reluctant, as if he’d been building up the courage to ask the question.
‘Yes, it was just good fortune you were in Derby. I’d have happily come down to London.’
‘Is everything okay, Jane? You were a bit… well, off with me when we spoke on the phone. Is something wrong? Have I done something?’
‘Why would you think you’d done something?’ Jane’s eyebrows knotted quizzically.
‘I always think I’ve done something wrong. Part and parcel of being neurotic. I guess I shouldn’t be so sensitive.’
‘Someone’s hacked into my laptop, Tommy. And I wanted to... get your advice.’
‘Yuk! I did say it was vulnerable. What damage did they do? Have you got it with you? Do you want me to look at it?’
Jane took a sip from her coffee before answering. ‘I took into my local PC shop. He’s cleaned it up – probably destroyed all the evidence – but he found a, quotes, keystroke logger and a program that took control of the camera.’
‘A keystroke logger?’ Tommy’s concern sounded genuine. ‘So they’ll have got your passwords. Which accounts have they taken over? Have you lost money?’
‘As far as we can tell, they’ve just been reading my emails. God knows why. I’m not exactly passing state secrets.’
‘Didn’t your antivirus pick it up?’
‘No they turned that off. I saw that the little camera light had come on. It was dark. In my bedroom.’
‘They didn’t deactivate the LED?’
Jane looked wrong-footed. ‘Can you do that?’
‘Of course. If you know what you’re doing. They were obviously bloody amateurs. How did they get in?’
‘I think they tried to get me to download dodgy emails at first. When I didn’t fall for that, they broke into my house while I was out. They pretended to nick some stuff but the motive was to get at my computer.’
‘Bloody hell! I said they were amateurs, but that’s hardcore amazing!’
‘Why? How would you do it?’
Tommy gazed at his hands as he thought. ‘Several ways, I guess. Sit in that café across the street and hack into your wifi?’
‘Is that easy to do? Would you find that easy to do?’
‘It’s not easy, but I’m pretty sure I could do it. Well, I could do it, obviously, because I know your wifi password. But even if I didn’t—‘
‘You know my wifi password?’ An expression of vague recollection crossed Jane’s face.
‘Yes. When I stayed with you for that charity auction. Duff’s fire engine. You said I could read the password off the back of your router. You were pretty hungover at the time.’
‘God, I’d forgotten that.’
‘Obviously, whoever loaded the keystroke logger didn’t have the password, but even so, resorting to a physical break-in is desperate stuff. Sounds like someone just googled “hacking for dummies” on the Web and, well, maybe housebreaking is their day job and that seemed like the easy bit. But… are you okay? Do you know why they did it?’
Jane stared into the dark coffee steaming in her cup. ‘Dunno. A stalker maybe. Someone who wants to nose into my personal life, see me getting undressed, whether I’m alone or not.’ She looked up. ‘Maybe it’s industrial espionage from a rival genealogist. But I suspect not.’
There were deep frown lines on Tommy’s face. ‘But it must have freaked you out a bit. It would me, but that’s not too hard. You’re much tougher than me.’
Jane’s eyes dropped again. ‘Sometimes. But then sometimes things get to me. I sometimes feel all the men in my life, the ones that matter to me, they’ve betrayed me. My father, Dave. Even my grandfather betrayed me by dying.’
Tommy rubbed his temple as a thought coalesced in his mind. ‘You didn’t think it was me, did you, Jane?’
She reached across the table and placed her hand on his. ‘No. I don’t think you’re that kind of weirdo. You’re one of the good guys. I trust you. It’s just that it did freak me out and… why did you have to get your haircut, Tommy?’
‘What?’
‘The Afro suited you.’
‘I don’t… Short hair is much easier to live with.’ He was talking quickly now, clearly wanting to dismiss what seemed a distracting irrelevance. ‘When you took me to that hairdresser’s in Nottingham it made me realise they’re not that scary. Jane, I don’t understand?’
She put her head in her hands and her words became slightly muffled. ‘My neighbour has nothing better to do than stare out of her window all day. She said she saw someone who looked like you, but with short hair, hanging around my house. Well she said it was you. I didn’t believe her and then you’d had a haircut. And I just… You know how sometimes, everything’s going fine, you feel strong, and then the world sinks from under your feet. I’m sorry, Tommy. I’m the one who’s guilty of betrayal.’
Tommy leant back in his chair. ‘But you don’t still think it was me, do you?’
‘No. It was always stupid. Of course you wouldn’t risk breaking into my house. You could send me anything and I’d load it. Because I fundamentally trust you. You’re a nice guy. And my friend. Not some creep who wants to abuse me.’
‘So what are you going to do next?’
Jane sat up straight. ‘Not sure. Keep an eye out for blokes acting suspiciously who look like you? And when and if I see one...’
‘Call the police?’ offered Tommy.
‘Uhuh.’
The conversation stopped and neither of them could meet the other’s eyeline. Tommy broke the silence. ‘So, tell me about your family history project. I’ve just remembered I’m about to be a free man with lots of time.’
‘You don’t hate me?’ asked Jane forlornly.
‘I’m the last person to condemn someone because they think crazy things from time to time. Tell me about your project. How far have you got?’
Jane
breathed out slowly. ‘Well, Thomas Ramsbottom, or Thomas Ramsden as he started calling himself. Now there was a man who betrayed just about everyone he came into contact with.’
Tommy looked pained again. ‘I always think we can never really know these people. We have a few dates, snippets of information, but there’s a tendency to fill in the gaps based on our own experience and prejudices. I’m wary of categorising people, living or dead.’
‘Absolutely,’ agreed Jane. ‘But I’ll make an exception for this bastard.’
Out and back again
Jane had slept, but only fitfully and was woken up still feeling tired. She switched off the alarm and tried to roll over again, but a mood of guilty remorse nagged for her attention and forced her to sit up in bed. She sought distraction from her thoughts and switched on the portable TV her grandparents had bought her when she was a teenager. It still worked well enough, but these days it required an additional remote control for the digital tuner that became necessary when the old analogue transmissions were abandoned.
Jane flicked between the main breakfast TV channels, but the news was equally depressing: young boys stabbing each other in London and politicians squabbling. The ITV presenter was presumably trying to liven things up by interrupting and shouting at a guest who seemed to have been invited because his intolerant views made him a ready target for the broadcast equivalent of a mediaeval pillory.
Jane shouted ‘Prat!’ at one or both of them and turned the screen off. She leant across and pressed the power button on her laptop. She still hadn’t replaced it but now took the precaution of switching it off every night. Its tired disc and processor churned through the boot process and loaded layers of programming it had not been designed to accommodate, and eventually it signalled it was ready for use. Jane thought about checking the BBC News website, but realised the stories would be just the same. Dave would always head for the sports’ pages, but Jane found them even less uplifting than articles about urban deprivation and limelight-seeking MPs parading ill-considered opinion as fact.
Instead she opened her emails. There was one she hesitated before reading. It was from Tommy and had arrived in the early hours.
