Page 41 of Watching You

Eleven Months Earlier

It began with a sparrow.

It was seven weeks since the paramedics had burst in and found Molly at death’s door, and three weeks since the memorial service when Beth became aware that the things Molly had complained of were still happening.

The tiny bird was on the doormat outside Beth’s back door.

Its neck was broken and one of its wings was badly damaged.

She’d found it as she’d opened up to take a bowl of food waste, coffee grinds and loose-leaf tea to the compost heap at the end of her garden.

The bird’s body was cold but it hadn’t yet attracted any flies, and Beth hadn’t seen it the previous morning.

She scooped it up in newspaper and took it to the compost heap with everything else, hoping it hadn’t suffered as she set it down for nature to reclaim it, then went back to the house.

Inside, she took a spray from beneath the kitchen sink, and went back out to wipe away the mark where the bird had hit the door.

But as hard as she looked, she couldn’t find any evidence that the bird had crashed into the door, and the upper windows were over the kitchen’s flat roof so the bird couldn’t have landed where it did unless it had literally dropped dead from the sky.

‘It’s nothing,’ she told her garden. ‘He got what he wanted. Molly’s gone.’

She responded by getting dressed with more purpose than ever and striding out to her car on the front driveway. As soon as she started it, the car’s computer notified her of a loss of pressure in the front passenger side tyre.

‘What now?’ Beth muttered, desperate to be on her way.

She climbed out and inspected the tyre, which was visibly flatter than the other three.

Her recovery service took an hour to arrive, which wasn’t bad in the circumstances, but it was an hour longer than she’d wanted to wait around thinking of all the reasons she hated living alone.

‘I can see the problem. You’ve got a nail in it. A big one too, it’s gone right in. That was unlucky. You must have driven directly over it for it to go in at ninety degrees like that. It took some force.’

Beth thought about the sparrow. A small thing designed to have a big impact.

‘Could someone have put it in there deliberately?’ she asked.

‘Yes, but they’d have to be a right psycho to do that.

It’s a huge nail, they’d have needed a hammer or something like it, and that’s proper dangerous.

This tyre could have blown on a motorway and then there’s no telling what might’ve happened to you.

You’re lucky the computer warned you. It’s expensive, too.

Costs a hundred quid a pop for these. Anyway, I’ll have the spare on in twenty minutes, don’t you worry. ’

Don’t you worry.

Beth was sure she’d said exactly those words to Molly when it had all started.

‘He’ll get bored, don’t you worry.’

‘We’ll track him down, don’t you worry.’

‘The police will help us, don’t you worry.’

And yet worry, Molly had, until it had all become too much for her.

Beth drove to work checking her rearview mirror while simultaneously telling herself that she wasn’t looking to see if she was being followed.

Behind her was a taxi, although she couldn’t see if anyone was in the back.

It followed her for three miles then turned off.

Was that because she’d noticed it on her tail?

She wasn’t sure she’d ever used the phrase ‘on her tail’, even inside her own head.

She sighed. It was two things, and two things only.

A dead bird and a flat tyre. She was being ridiculous.

There were bigger things on her mind without looking for reasons to be paranoid.

You just want something to think about except Molly’s absence, her inner voice told her.

‘Go to hell,’ Beth replied reversing into a parking space and storming out of her car.

She made it to her office without bumping into anyone she was sufficiently friendly with that she needed to stop and chat, then dumped her bag and started looking through the urgent surgeries that had come in overnight.

There was a knock at her door before she could open the first file, and her favourite anaesthetist, Sharon, popped her head round the door.

‘Hey,’ she said. ‘You okay?’

It was a question everyone asked before they got down to anything more substantial, since Molly had gone.

‘Sure. How busy is today going to be?’

Sharon frowned momentarily then took a deep breath. ‘Did you just get in?’

‘Yes. Flat tyre, so although I was supposed to be here early I’m now running late. Anything tricky waiting for us?’

‘Um, Beth, I … something came up. The chief executive wants to talk to you. You’re not on the list for surgery today. I’m so sorry,’ Sharon said softly. ‘Whatever I can do to help.’

‘You can tell me what’s going on, that would be a start,’ Beth said, standing instinctively.

Sharon looked like she’d been picked to play for a team she hated. ‘You obviously have no idea, and I wish it wasn’t me who had to tell you. There’s a video of you. It’s gone viral.’

Beth’s stomach performed somersaults that an Olympic gymnast would have been proud of, and she realised she should have been ready for it.

She wasn’t stupid and she didn’t have an overactive imagination.

The man who had destroyed her daughter’s life was coming for her too, and he wasn’t playing around.

‘What’s on the video?’ she asked.

Sharon looked her square in the eyes. ‘It’s you, looks like you’re in a pub garden or something, and you’re saying that people who smoke, drink and eat too much shouldn’t be allowed NHS treatment, and how we should only be saving the lives of the people who look after their bodies.

Some of the language you use to describe those people is, well, unfortunate.

Lots of expletives too. Ends in a toast, something about saving NHS money and you getting the pay rise you deserve. You get the idea.’

‘Is it my voice?’ Beth asked.

Sharon shrugged.

‘Come on, you’ve known me longer than anyone else here. If it could fool you then it could fool anyone. Is it my voice?’

Sharon paused for half a second. ‘Sounds exactly like you. I wish I could tell you something different.’

‘But it’s not me,’ Beth said. ‘You know that, right?’

‘I do,’ Sharon said. ‘But you know what’s going to happen. They’re going to have to investigate. They’ll suspend you until it’s been assessed. It’ll all be about bringing the hospital into disrepute and patients losing faith in us.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Beth picked up her bag and coat but the door opened again, this time without a warning knock.

The chief executive walked in followed by two men.

‘Beth,’ she began. ‘We need a formal chat, on the record, and you’ll need representation, but I wanted to see you before anyone else, although I see I’m possibly too late for that. This is our in-house lawyer and this is the head of human resources.’ She indicated who was who.

‘I should go,’ Sharon said.

‘Don’t bother,’ Beth told her. ‘The video’s a deep fake. It’s not me. I didn’t film it, I didn’t say those words, I don’t agree with the sentiment and I never have. Everyone who ends up on my table gets equal treatment. I don’t judge.’

‘We shouldn’t have a substantive discussion,’ the head of HR said blandly.

‘Beth, you know how much we respect you here. But the video looks and sounds exactly like you. It appears from items in the shot that alcohol has been consumed, and of course, you’ve just suffered the worst loss any mother can.

No one would blame you.’ The chief executive didn’t finish the sentence.

‘It’s a deep fake. It’s been put on social media as a form of harassment. My record is impeccable.’ Beth’s voice was louder now, the effort to control her anger making her throat tight.

‘I’m not sure deep-fake technology is that good. And why would anyone do that to you?’ the chief executive continued.

Beth sighed. ‘We have the technology to perform surgery through computer controls when we’re not physically in the theatre, and a couple of years from now, with the right software, we’ll be able to do that remotely from anywhere in the world with decent Wi-Fi.

Deep-fake technology has been producing videos of world leaders doing and saying ridiculous things for ages. Just how out of touch are you?’

Sharon reached out to lay a hand on Beth’s arm who shook the fingers away.

‘We’re going to give you a week while we get ourselves ready for a preliminary hearing, and you should obtain representation and produce any evidence you’d like to.

That will simply be a fact-finding exercise.

Please do consult your union. After that we’ll adjourn and look at professional outcomes. ’

Beth was already walking around her desk and towards the door. ‘It’s not me,’ she said. ‘You can have as many hearings as you like, but I’m simply going to say the same thing over and over again.’

‘There’s a process,’ the chief executive said. ‘It’s unavoidable. No one wanted this to happen.’

‘That’s not quite right,’ Beth said as she opened her door and stepped out into the corridor. ‘One person definitely did.’