I See You(106)

Katie goes out of sight, and despite Melissa bringing up two more cameras, we don’t see her again until she’s waiting on the Jubilee line platform. She’s standing close to the platform edge and I want to tell her to step away, that someone could push her in front of the train. Watching her like this, on CCTV, is like watching a film in which you know something terrible is about to happen to the main character, and you scream at them not to be so stupid.

Don’t go outside, don’t ignore that sound you heard … haven’t you read the script? Don’t you know what happens next?

I remind myself that Katie has read the script. She knows what the danger is, she just doesn’t know exactly where it’s coming from.

There’s a man standing behind Katie, and to her left. He’s watching her. I can’t see his face – the camera is too far away – but his head is turned towards her and it moves slightly as he looks her up and down. He takes a step closer and I grip the edge of my seat, leaning forward in a vain attempt to see more. There are other people on the platform – why aren’t they looking the right way? They won’t see if he does something. I used to feel so safe on the Underground. So many cameras, so many people all around. But no one’s watching, not really. Everyone’s travelling in their own little bubble, oblivious to what’s happening to their fellow commuters.

I say her name under my breath and as if she’s heard me she turns around. Looks at the man. He steps closer and immediately Katie backs off. I can’t read her body language – is she frightened? She walks to the other end of the platform. Melissa shifts in her chair and I look at her. She’s gazing intently at the screen, but she isn’t sitting forward, tense in her chair, like I am. She’s leaning backwards, her elbows resting on the arms of her chair, and her fingertips pressed together. A small smile plays across her lips.

‘Fascinating,’ she says. ‘I always liked the idea that the women didn’t know they were being followed, but this adds something quite interesting. Cat and mouse on the Underground. It might work rather well as an extra package for members.’ Her flippancy revolts me.

The man on the platform hasn’t followed Katie to the other end of the platform, but as the train arrives, and a surge of tourists and commuters disembark, I see him move through the mêlée towards her. He doesn’t get on at the same place as her, and I’m feeling relieved when I realise he has nevertheless chosen the same carriage.

‘Can you get into the camera on that train? I want to see it. I want to see what’s happening on the train!’

‘Addictive, isn’t it? No, I’ve tried but it’s very secure. We’ve got’ – she checks another tab, open on the computer – ‘seven minutes till she gets to Waterloo.’ She drums her fingers on the desk.

‘The carriage is busy. No one will try anything on a busy train.’ I say it to myself as much as to Melissa.

If Katie cried out, would someone do something? I’ve always taught her to make a noise if something happens. ‘Be loud about it,’ I told her. ‘If some perv pushes himself against you, don’t tell him, tell everyone. Shout, “Stop touching me this instant!” Let the whole carriage know. They might not do anything, but he’ll stop straight away, you’ll see.’

It’s only four minutes from Waterloo to Leicester Square. I know because Melissa has told me, and because every second feels like an hour. As soon as we lose Katie into a Northern line train at Waterloo, Melissa brings a new image on to the screen; the camera looking towards the bottom of the escalators leading up to Leicester Square.

We watch in silence until she appears.

‘There she is.’ Melissa points to Katie. Instantly I look for the man I saw approaching her on the platform, and when I find him a couple of yards behind her my chest tightens.

‘That man …’ I say, but I trail off because – what is there to say?

‘He’s persistent, isn’t he?’

‘Do you know who he is? Where he comes from? How old he is?’ I don’t know why any of these things matter.

‘The profile’s been downloaded almost two hundred times,’ Melissa says. ‘It could be any one of them.’

The man pushes past a woman with a buggy. Katie steps on to the escalator.

Keep walking, I say in my head, but she stands still, and the man walks up on the left-hand side and then slots in on the right to stand behind her. He puts a hand on her arm and leans in. He’s saying something to her. Katie shakes her head, and then they reach the top of the escalator and out of view.

‘The next camera! Get the next camera!’

Melissa responds with deliberate slowness, enjoying my panic. There are lots of people at Leicester Square, and when she finally pulls up another CCTV image I can’t immediately see Katie. But then I spot her, walking alongside the man from the train. My heart races: something isn’t right. Katie is walking at an odd angle, bent to one side. Her head is bowed and although she doesn’t look as though she’s fighting him, everything about her body language tells me she can’t get away. I look closer and realise he is gripping the top of her left arm with his right hand. With his other hand he is gripping her wrist: it is the pressure on this arm pulling her off balance. He must have a weapon. He must be threatening her. Otherwise why isn’t she screaming? Running? Fighting?