The Family Remains(81)

‘But—’

‘Oh God. What?’

‘It’s been paid into another person’s account.’

‘Sorry, what?’

‘Yes. Another person’s investment pot.’

‘How do you know this?’

‘I just do. But what I don’t know is whose pot it’s gone into. And I have no idea how you would find out other than by contacting the company directly and emotionally blackmailing them into telling you. But they won’t. Because they’re not allowed to. So, yeah. Over to you.’

Rachel ended the call and rested her phone on the counter in front of her. She stood up, and then she sat down again, then she picked up her phone, googled the name of the wealth management company and called the number.

‘Erm … hi.’ She sounded shrill and intense even to her own ears. ‘I wondered if I could speak to someone in customer service?’

‘Can I ask what it’s regarding?’

‘Yes. It’s regarding my father. He’s a retiree, and I’ve just been looking at his bank statements and seen that he has, over the past few months, transferred all his money into an account held by your company. But it’s not in his name. And I’m worried that he’s being scammed or blackmailed. How could I find out, please? I’m really very worried.’

‘Hold the line, please. I’m going to transfer you.’

The line went quiet and then there was music and a very posh automated recording telling her that her call would be answered shortly, and she paced the room for five minutes growing increasingly stressed and impatient until finally the music stopped and a voice said, ‘Client security services, how can I help you?’

Rachel began to retell her tale of woe and halfway through, as she uttered the word ‘blackmail’, she turned and came face-to-face with her father who had entered the room without her noticing. He stared at her and shook his head.

‘Sorry, could you hold on, just for a moment?’ she asked the woman on the line.

She pulled the phone from her ear and stared at her father.

He looked at the floor. ‘Hang up,’ he said. ‘Just hang up. I’ll tell you everything. Please just end the call.’

She ended the call and sat down on the arm of the sofa.

‘Oh God. I’ve been such an idiot,’ he said. ‘I know I have. But I didn’t know what else to do. I just panicked. Everything was going so well for you. I couldn’t let anything mess it up.’

‘Dad, I don’t understand what you’re saying.’

‘I’m saying …’ He sighed and started again. ‘I’m saying that someone has somehow got hold of some – images of you.’

‘Images?’

‘Yes. Pictures of you. Nudes. Some film footage. And they have been sending them to me and making me pay them money to delete them.’

‘I’m sorry – who?’

‘I don’t know. An anonymous emailer. I just kept thinking it would stop. That he would go away if I gave him the money. But then he’d be back again a couple of weeks later with another picture. Another film. And now, well, as you’ve seen – there’s no more money left to give.’

Rachel screwed up her eyes and looked at the ceiling. Then she looked down again and exhaled. ‘Have you still got them? These … nudes?’

Her father nodded sheepishly. ‘I thought I should keep them in case this ever went to the police.’

‘Show them to me, please.’

‘Oh, no. You don’t need to—’

‘Just show them to me.’

He sighed and then indicated for her to follow him into his study, where he flipped open his laptop. ‘Here,’ he said, turning the screen towards her and then moving to the other side of the room.

Rachel took a deep breath, readying herself. Her father had put them in a folder named ‘Recipes’. She clicked on the first one and then immediately had to close it again. She knew instantly that it was one of her own photos, from her own phone, and she knew instantly that it had been taken when she was with a guy called Travis whom she had met online about three years ago and had enjoyed a very brief, very intense, very sex-based liaison with before he’d dumped her without any explanation. Her first instinct was that it was him, it was Travis, that he’d somehow reappeared, out of the blue, found her father’s email address and decided to blackmail him. But then she remembered that this was her photo, taken on her phone, that Travis would not have had access to it. And it was not a pretty photo. Not a pretty photo at all. She could see that now. Back then it had looked raw, extraordinary, exquisite, erotic. Now it looked sad, regressive, a little bit tragic.

She opened the next one. This was the time that Travis had brought his friend. Rachel couldn’t remember his name but staring at the image now she saw a look on his face that turned her stomach sour. She shuddered and opened the next. This was an MP4 and she gulped drily before pressing play. Her, Travis, his disgusting friend in her bedroom in Camden Town. Her finger went straight for the mute button as the sound came through. She looked at herself on the video and saw a woman who was lost. She wondered what the hell she’d been looking for.

She didn’t open the next file. She closed her father’s laptop and threw herself back into the chair. ‘Fuck.’