Seymour Tapes Read online

  – Sherry, what the hell are you doing? I thought we had an appointment.

  His phone rings. He answers.

  What are you doing?… Right… You’ve been ill all this week?… So why didn’t you let me know?

  He checks his watch.

  – I don’t know – I don’t know, Sherry. I’m a bit pushed for time, to tell you the truth.

  The tone of his voice, unlike on his last visit to Cyclops, sounds tetchy rather than needy.

  – OK. All right, then.

  Adams Street, Tape Two, Saturday, 26 May, Time Code 12.30

  Dr Seymour enters the flat dressed much as he was before. Sherry Thomas is dressed radically differently from any previous occasion. Her face is well scrubbed, glowing, clear of makeup. She is wearing carefully pressed jeans, immaculate new-looking sneakers, a demure white long-sleeved blouse, buttoned at the wrists. Her hair is tied back in a girlish ponytail. For the first time, she seems innocent, almost vulnerable.

  We do not know what access she had to Dr Seymour’s state of mind, other than the bug in his mobile phone, and no records exist of any conversations she might have picked up. Samantha Seymour says Alex told her, in his final confession, that now he was clear of any suggestion of impropriety with Mrs Madoowbe, and had ‘cleared’ his wife of infidelity, he was already moving away from Sherry Thomas. He admitted to her that he was still fascinated with Ms Thomas as a character, but said that he had no wish to carry on with the surveillance. His distancing of himself from her is apparent in the following exchanges. Dr Seymour seems more impatient with her than on his previous visit, as if regretful, especially in the light of his wife’s innocence, that he has allowed things to go so far. According to Samantha, he was planing to finish the relationship with Sherry Thomas, but had decided that she was psychologically fragile and needed handling carefully. He suspected that to ‘dump’ her might lead to unpredictable, even dangerous consequences – though doubtless he imagined the danger to be to herself rather than him.

  – You don’t look very unwell to me.

  – You have no idea.

  – What’s all this in aid of, Sherry?

  – Come in, Alex. Please.

  He sits down, as before, on the sofa facing the large TV screen.

  – I’m sorry, Alex. I understand that you might be angry with me for dragging you out here again but I need to show you something.

  – Why didn’t you just say that?

  – I thought you wouldn’t come because you’d decided I was weird or something.

  – I don’t think you’re weird. But I don’t think the way you’re behaving – that either of us has been behaving – is particularly healthy.

  – Perhaps I need to see a doctor.

  – Let’s not flirt. I want to talk.

  – What about?

  – Look. What happened last time. It was – I don’t regret it. It was special.

  – But?

  – You’ve really helped me, Sherry. The cameras – they’ve shown me things about my life I could never have known. They’ve changed me. You’ve changed me. In this short time.

  – How have they changed you?

  – I’ve learned, for one thing, that my wife loves me.

  – Did you bring the tape? Of her and Pengelly?

  – No, I didn’t, but it exonerates her. And this changes everything. I was sure you were right. I thought that she was having an affair. That she was betraying me. Now I know she would never do anything like that. So it makes me… it makes my betrayal more unjustifiable, do you see?

  – Betrayal? What betrayal? We haven’t done anything.

  – I’ve shown you secrets, Sherry.

  – For the best of reasons.

  – I don’t think Samantha would see it like that.

  – So what? You’re just going to stop?

  – I don’t know. This could go too far, if it hasn’t already.

  – You don’t understand, Alex. You’re in a position of power but only because of the cameras. You know what’s going on. Once you’ve lost this power your family will sense it. Your wife and children will lose respect for you again. They will see what happened, your momentary rebirth, as a sham, a trick, a fluke. You’ll be back at square one. Believe me.

  The couple sit in silence for a while, as if in stalemate. Sherry Thomas takes out a Marlboro Red, offers it to Dr Seymour, who, as usual, refuses. She lights it.

  – Can I show you something?

  – Another tape?

  – Yes.

  – From your life?

  – Yes.

  – How many have you got?

  There is a long pause.

  – Alex, I trust you. You know that, don’t you?

  – I don’t know why. But yes, I do know that.

  – Will you come into the next room with me for a moment?

  – The bedroom?

  – Don’t worry. I’ve not got designs on you. Not this week, anyway. No pressure. Just come for a moment. You can leave the door open, if you like. I won’t try anything.

  Dr Seymour gets up from the couch, and Sherry Thomas from her chair. She moves to the doorway to the left, glances at Dr Seymour once more, then opens it. She walks in, and Dr Seymour follows tentatively.

  The room is not wired up for vision, but the microphones from the front room still pick up the conversation that ensues.

  – What is this?

  – It’s my life.

  – What do you mean?

  – Exactly that. My life. Since I was seventeen, I’ve been taping. Every chance I can get.

  – But there’s – there’s thousands.

  – Yes. I’ve taped more or less every day. For the last twenty or so years.

  – You tape every day? That’s… crazy.

  – Don’t say that, Alex. Please. Even if it’s true. Anyway, even if it’s true… I can be healed, can’t I? You can heal me. You have a gift.

  – Can we get out of here? This room gives me the creeps.

  The camera shows Dr Seymour retreating slowly. Sherry Thomas follows him, holding a videotape.

  – I know it seems a little odd.

  – Odd? Is that what you call it? Look, I’m sorry I called you crazy. But you need help. I can put you in touch with some good people.

  – It’s all there. My graduation. My stepfather’s funeral. My first day at college. My last day at college. All the days in between. All the endless days.

  – Sherry, why do you want to show me this stuff?

  – Ever since I was a child I’ve had this thing in my head. It’s hard to explain. It’s just that – moments are always ending, aren’t they? Somehow that seems like a billion little deaths. A moment’s there – and it’s gone. All the time, disappearing, disappearing. But with videotape there is no death. Do you see?

  – Sherry, I have to be honest. I have no idea what you’re talking about.

  – But I can explain. You’ll understand. I just want you to watch one of the tapes.

  – Right.

  – I need you to know, Alex. Then maybe you can help me. I know you can help me. Just to share with you will help me. I’ve been so alone.

  – I don’t know, Sherry. I’m really not sure this is a good idea.

  – It won’t take long, Alex. I promise.

  Dr Seymour sits down on the sofa, looking shaken. Sherry Thomas joins him, still holding the videotape. She points at it and looks at Dr Seymour.

  – Number one.

  – In a series of?

  – Six thousand, one hundred and seventeen.

  – Oh, my Lord.

  – This one has a different directorial style from all the others. More crude, I think.

  – Why is that?

  – Because I didn’t make it. But it started me making them.

  – Who did make it?

  – You’ll see.

  She gets up, loads the videotape into the VCR, switches on the TV and goes to sit down. But as she passes Dr Seymour
he gets up and grabs her arm.

  – Alex, you’re hurting me.

  – I have one more question.

  – Sit down a minute.

  – What?

  – Just sit down. Then you can ask the question. And we can watch the tape.

  Slowly, Sherry Thomas sits next to Dr Seymour. She turns to him. He is still holding her arm.

  – What do you want to ask me, then?

  – Just this. Why do you always wear long-sleeved shirts?

  – You’re kidding me.

  – However hot it is, you always wear long-sleeved shirts, jackets or sweaters.

  – So what?

  – I have a patient who does that.

  – Let go of me, please.

  – Not yet. Do you want to know why my patient always wears long-sleeved shirts?

  – Not particularly.

  Now Dr Seymour roughly pushes up the cuff of Sherry Thomas’s shirt. The camera is not close enough to show what it reveals, but she screams and pulls away her arm.

  – Fuck off!

  – When did you do that?

  – Does it matter?

  – You need help.

  – Do I?

  – Those scars are old, aren’t they?

  – I guess.

  – How old?

  She pauses, then holds up the tape.

  – Shortly after this.

  Dr Seymour examines the box and reads aloud.

  – ‘Me and Ned. Salt Lake City’.

  Sherry Thomas wipes her face with the back of her hand and pulls down her sleeve. She slides the tape into the machine and reaches across for the videotape remote control. She hits play, and an image appears on the screen – herself, much younger, and in much the same incarnation in which she appeared in the earlier Thanksgiving tape.

  – I had just turned seventeen, Alex. Just a kid, really.

  She is wearing a simple pink summer dress and looks little more than a child. She appears surprised – part amused, part annoyed. Whoever is pointing the camera appears to have come into her room uninvited. Sherry stares blankly at it.

  – Ned, stop fooling around.

  – Hi, Sherry. How’s my pretty daughter-in-law-to-be?

  – She was pretty good until you turned up. Now, will you get out of here, please?

  – That’s not very nice. Come on, Sherry, don’t play-act with me. I’ve been getting your signals.

  – Signals?

  – How about letting me get a look at those cute little dugs?

  – Get out, Ned. Get out right now or I’ll get Carl.

  – Come on. You didn’t mind at the swimming-pool. Where’s the difference?

  – Carl!

  – Carl’s gone out for the day. You know, I listen to you and my son. You’re quite a noisy girl. Yeah. A real screamer.

  – I’m leaving.

  Sherry Thomas reaches for her jacket and makes for the door. Then she speaks directly to the video camera.

  – That thing gives me the creeps, Ned. Really. Cut it out.

  – A camera gives you the creeps? Nothing scary about a camera. Wait till you see what I got here.

  Sherry Thomas’s face registers extreme shock.

  – No, Ned.

  – Take your dress off. Or I’ll stick this right up your cooze. And – bang! Six times.

  Dr Seymour speaks very quietly.

  – He has a gun?

  Sherry Thomas nods.

  – Smith and Wesson .44.

  The seventeen-year-old Sherry Thomas looks terrified. The present-day Sherry Thomas mirrors her expression, as if she is reliving the whole experience. She clutches Dr Seymour’s arm. He covers her hand with his. Then, suddenly, Dr Seymour reaches across, grabs the remote control and switches it off. The screen registers a grey electronic fuzz.

  – I don’t want to see this, Sherry.

  – What? Why not? It happened. It happened.

  – I don’t need to see it, for God’s sake.

  – Of course you do!

  She scrambles for the remote control, but Dr Seymour holds it away from her.

  – You have to see it! You have to see it!

  – I can’t. It’s not right.

  – But if you don’t see it you won’t believe what happened. Nobody would believe what happened. They wouldn’t believe a word of it. Not even Carl would believe it. That’s why I had to leave him, even though I had nowhere else to go. Ned would have got away scot-free. If I hadn’t – if I didn’t –

  – What? What, Sherry?

  – Never mind. The point is, I couldn’t go to the police because they wouldn’t have believed me. Because Ned had the tape showing me ‘enjoying’ myself.

  – Enjoying yourself? How did you get this videotape off him?

  – I stole it.

  – But couldn’t you go to the police then?

  – It was too late.

  – What do you mean?

  – Please watch the tape. Then you’ll understand everything.

  – It would be obscene, Sherry. I won’t watch it. You can just tell me. I’ll believe you.

  – No one believes me. No one.

  – I’ll believe you. I don’t need to see the tape. Just tell me what happened.

  Sherry Thomas cries for several more minutes. Then she stops, composes herself and begins to speak in a low, urgent voice.

  – He raped me. Not once, but time and again. He set the camera up on a tripod and videoed it.

  – My God.

  – But he was clever. Made sure I wouldn’t go to the police.

  – How?

  – He made me act stuff out on camera. I had a gun pointed at me, of course, but you couldn’t see it. All you could see was me. He reshot, so it appeared like when he walked into the room I was topless. Then he made me come on to him, like I was some kind of Lolita. He even filmed the rape, Alex. Filmed it, and made me look like I was enjoying it. Because if I didn’t he’d kill me. Then he took away the tape and laughed. Said that if I tried to start anything he’d show the world what a slut I really was.

  – So what did you do?

  – What could I do? I couldn’t go to the police. They wouldn’t have believed me. Ned was a very respected guy locally. A real hot shot. Order of the Buffaloes, Rotarians, you name it. I was some kind of low-life whore, as far as most people in that swamp were concerned. I was an orphan, trailer-park scum. None of the family thought I was good enough for their Carl. I can just see the trial. ‘White-trash tramp tries to frame respected local citizen’. Then the tape – can you imagine the shame of it?

  – But you got hold of the tape showing him threatening you. After that, couldn’t you –

  – How do you think I got hold of the tape, Alex?

  – I don’t think I want to know.

  – I don’t see what choice I had. It was him or me. I recovered after this…

  She holds up her wrists, showing visible old scars.

  –… but I knew that next time I would get it right. But I didn’t want to die. I just needed to. So long as he was around, life hurt too much. There was only one way to make it bearable again. Not liveable. Just bearable.

  – What are you saying?

  – You know what I’m saying. Surely you don’t blame me. Say you don’t blame me, Alex.

  – I think I should go.

  – All right. OK. But you will come again, won’t you? Next Saturday, as usual?

  – I’m not coming here again.

  – Fine. To the shop, then. OK? I’ll be there. I realize now I’ve gone too far. There are so many things I haven’t understood. Please come to the shop.

  – I’ll think about it.

  – Don’t think about it. Promise me.

  There is a long pause.

  – OK.

  Dr Alex Seymour’s Video Diary, Excerpt Five, Sunday, 27 May, Time Code 13.00

  Unlike Dr Seymour’s other video diaries, this is recorded in daylight. He looks brisk, businesslike and back to
normal. He seems healthy and alert.

  This is the last time I’m going to do this. It’s gone far enough. What the hell have I been playing at?

  I can sleep again. My job is secure. My marriage is secure. My life is in order. Enough is enough.

  Two things.

  One. My wife has not been unfaithful to me. What an enormous relief. I feel so grateful to her and for her.

  Two. Sherry Thomas is obviously a very sick woman. I understood that she was strange, but I didn’t know how strange. She is clearly a danger to herself, and quite possibly to others. I believe her story that she murdered ‘Ned’. I’m sure now that she’s capable of it. Should I go to the police? But if she was guilty – and she was extradited…

  It’s unthinkable. She could be executed, for God’s sake. And it was all such a long time ago now. Besides, the man was clearly a monster.

  And that bedroom full of tapes. Her whole life recorded on tape.

  She needs help, but I can’t help her any more. I’ll send the equipment back to her with a full remittance. I’ll urge her to see a psychiatrist. This ‘therapist’ of hers is probably just another fantasy. But I’m never going to see her again. Promise or no promise.

  Poor woman. Her being raped – did that take place? I suspect it did.

  This is sick. Sick. It’s got to stop. And I’ve got to make amends.

  Which means I’ve got to face the hardest part of all. I’ve got to tell Samantha what I’ve been doing. I’ll do it later this week. Once I’ve considered all the options, worked everything out in my own head. What to say. How to stop her divorcing me. How to apologize enough.

  I don’t know where to start. But after she’s shown such faith in me, I can’t keep secret something as big as this. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

  Perhaps she can forgive me. I don’t know. I hope so.

  I’ll talk to her. Then we’ll decide – together – what to do about Sherry.

  Interview with Barbara Shilling

  Did Sherry Thomas ever talk to you about being raped?

  Not directly. She told me that something like that had happened, but that she didn’t feel ready to talk about it.

  Did she tell you about her collection of videotapes? She had more than six thousand. Apparently she taped more or less every day of her life.