Seymour Tapes Page 23

  – Is that what Alex is going to do? That’s a pity. He’s nice to have around. A good guy. He cares about you very much, Samantha.

  – I don’t need you to tell me how much he cares about us. Just because you’ve watched a few videotapes doesn’t mean you know anything about me.

  – Is that right? But Alex has talked to me quite extensively. Confided in me a great deal.

  – Not any more.

  – Tell me again, because I’m really not clear on this. Why is it going to stop?

  – Because I’m going to break up his stupid cameras and throw them in the bin.

  – I don’t think you’ll do that.

  – What makes you think that you have any say in the matter?

  – Because if you try to stop me seeing him again, I’ll tell him about you and Mark Pengelly.

  – What are you talking about?

  – Your affair with him.

  – That’s absurd.

  – Is it? You’re telling me that there was never anything between you and Mark Pengelly?

  – Absolutely. Anyway, I don’t have to justify myself to you.

  – No, but I know what I know. I’m an expert. Worse for you, I’m a woman.

  – That’s hardly conclusive proof of an affair.

  – Does it matter? I can easily point Alex in the right direction. And I know I’m right. I know the body language. I know the mating ritual. People like me – lonely, abandoned people – study this kind of thing at night school. I can tell him all about you, even if you do try to rain on our parade. And if he’s thinking of stopping seeing me, I advise you to talk him out of it. I’m sure you’re capable of it. You’re good at psychology, Alex says.

  – I am not having an affair with Mark Pengelly.

  Now Sherry Thomas goes to a chest of drawers in the corner of the room, takes several 10x8 photographs out of it, and throws them on to the table in front of Samantha. She picks them up, inspects them and puts them down again. She seems unfazed. Sherry Thomas inspects the photographs where they lie.

  – That Pengelly looks like he works out.

  – He does. He’s got an amazing body. They’re good photographs. Quite artistic.

  – Sometimes digital technology just can’t beat the traditional methods.

  – Could you let me have the negatives, do you think? They really are nicely shot.

  – Why on earth should I do that?

  – Because you’re a killer.

  For the first time, Sherry Thomas looks taken aback. She lights another cigarette and says nothing.

  – My husband told me everything, you see.

  – What the fuck are you here for?

  – To meet the enemy. To even things up a little. Before the endless pattern of your life asserts itself once more.

  Here there is a long silence as Sherry Thomas and Samantha regard each other like fighters before the first bell. Finally, it is Sherry Thomas who speaks.

  – You’re a piece of work, Samantha. I’ll give you that. The video camera doesn’t do you justice.

  – I think I should go now. I’ve said my piece. Give me the prints and the negatives.

  Sherry Thomas, apparently defeated, returns to the chest of drawers and fetches a roll of negatives, which she places on the table in front of Samantha.

  – You should brighten this place up a bit. Just because you’re on your own doesn’t mean you have to make the whole room a tribute to the fact.

  – Anything else? I have a terrible headache.

  – Could you show me round the flat, please?

  – What?

  – You’ve had a good look at where I live. I want to see the sorry state you live in.

  – I don’t think I can do that.

  – Yes, you can. You’ll do anything I want you to do. Unless you want a very unwelcome phone call from the authorities back home in… wherever the hell it is you come from. Anyway, what have you got to hide?

  – It’s not –

  – Any of my business? That’s funny. Just show me round the flat.

  Reluctantly, Sherry Thomas complies, leading her into kitchen and bathroom. They emerge some minutes later. Sherry Thomas is massaging her temples.

  – Satisfied now?

  – Are you joking? You think I’m going to miss out on the high point?

  – There’s nothing of interest in my bedroom.

  – Is that so? There should be no problem, then.

  Again, they disappear briefly. When they return, Sherry Thomas is wringing her hands and her head is bowed.

  – That’s quite a video collection.

  – I suppose.

  – I came across ‘enthusiasts’ like you when I was studying at college. We’d see them when we had field trips to institutions.

  – Can you go now? My head is really… Please…

  – In a moment. First, give me the tape.

  – What are you talking about? What tape?

  – You’ve taped this. All of it. I know what you’re doing. I know what you’re like. I want the tape of this… meeting before I go. Internal and external.

  – If I have to do what you say, why do you need the tapes?

  – One can’t have too much of the truth, don’t you think?

  Sherry Thomas gives a resentful nod.

  – And bring me a couple of tapes from your bedroom collection. Just a dozen or so. For entertainment purposes. No, hold on. I’ll choose them myself.

  Sherry Thomas visibly turns white with rage. But nevertheless she sits still while Samantha goes next door and reappears with an armful of videotapes.

  – It’s going to be a lot of fun getting to know you better. Now, give me the tape of us. And when you get the phone call from my husband telling you he never wants to see you again, don’t breathe a word to him about this meeting. Or someone else will be getting a phone call, someone whose idea of treating your headaches might be a little different from Alex’s. I believe it involves some form of injection. One hundred per cent effective.

  Obediently, Sherry Thomas rises from the sofa and disappears from view – presumably to wherever the receiver for the cameras is set up so that she can retrieve the tape. Seconds later, the recording ends.

  Author’s Note: That this tape, apparently taken by Samantha Seymour at the time of recording, was posted to Victoria and Guy Seymour is puzzling but explicable. I would have to assume that Sherry Thomas backed up her tapes simultaneously to their recording on a computer hard disk. Examination by an expert confirms that it was dubbed on to magnetic tape from computer digital impulses.

  I can also conclude that the person to whom Sherry Thomas was saying her ironic goodbye in the last seconds of her life was Samantha Seymour, knowing that she would eventually view the tape. And that Sherry Thomas sent the tape to Guy and Victoria, understanding that by attacking her children – mainly through the allegation about Mark Pengelly – she would hurt Samantha Seymour most.

  That this strategy was effective is confirmed not only by my meeting with Guy and Victoria, but also the discovery that they had been living for some time with their uncle, Toby Seymour, and have refused consistently to meet or talk to their mother since shortly after their father’s death. Not only did it reveal her affair with Mark Pengelly, it suggested that, by goading Sherry Thomas, she might have been partly responsible for Dr Seymour’s death.

  Immediately after I had viewed the tape I approached Samantha Seymour.

  She reluctantly agreed to meet me one last time.

  Interview with Samantha Seymour

  Hello, Samantha. Nice of you to come.

  I’d like you to return the tape.

  Why on earth should I?

  Because it’s my property. Because you don’t need it any more. Because Victoria and Guy are minors and have no legal rights in this respect.

  Of course I need it. Do you think I can keep this out of the book?

  Haven’t you any feeling for people at all? For Guy? For Victoria? For me
, even? How can you be so ruthless?

  That’s a little ironic, I think, coming from you.

  What do you mean? Are you going to give me the tape or not?

  Apart from anything else, it’s not only the public who might be interested. The police would find it fascinating.

  [At this point Samantha Seymour looks genuinely shocked.]

  Why? I’ve committed no crime.

  How about blackmail? Or even accessory to murder?

  [Samantha Seymour does not reply. Then she leans over and is sick into the wastebasket.]

  Jesus, Samantha.

  [I hand her some tissues and she wipes her face.]

  How could you possibly think that I – that I would –

  You got the life insurance. You got Pengelly. You got to sell your story. You had the motivation and the perfect opportunity.

  How on earth could I have had the opportunity? How could I have known what she was going to do? And I didn’t ‘get’ Mark.

  Let me be completely upfront, Samantha. You’ve lied to me all the way through our interviews. At best you deceived your husband. At worse, you’ve been complicit in a murder. Now you have to tell me the truth. Right down to the last detail. Or I’m going straight to the police with this.

  You really are full of surprises, aren’t you? And I chose you because –

  Because you thought I’d be soft. An ‘author’ rather than a reporter.

  I suppose so.

  I am soft. But that’s not quite the same as stupid. Listen to me. When we first met, you told me you had a Ph.D. in psychology. What did you specialize in?

  Why is that relevant?

  There’s no point in lying any more. It’s too late for that. I know the answer anyway. It’s a matter of record.

  Criminal psychopathology. That doesn’t prove anything. I’m not a genius. I don’t have a crystal ball.

  You didn’t try very hard to stop what you must have known might have been unfolding. You knew she’d committed one murder. So presumably you could work out how crazy she was. Especially after you’d seen the room full of videotapes and even taken a selection home to watch, which, apart from anything you knew, would make her seem just that little bit more crazy. It wouldn’t take a genius to work out that the woman was seriously disturbed. Incidentally, how did you find out you were being taped? And when was it exactly?

  [Samantha Seymour sighs, and sits up straight in her chair.]

  Alex. So organized, but hopeless at hiding anything. Because he thought that people would always play by his rules.

  Was it just luck?

  A bit of luck. A bit of suspicion. It was that day when Alex confronted Guy over the mobile phone.

  May the tenth.

  I can’t recall the exact date. That day, anyway. When Guy broke down and… It was so extraordinary. And that strength – it was so untypical of Alex. So out of character. I was immediately suspicious. He seemed so sure of himself. Of course, I didn’t think anything about cameras. But I did remember that the loft room stretched over the ceiling of Guy and Vicky’s room. And I wondered if he’d done something sneaky like finding a little spyhole so he could see what they were up to.

  So you went up to have a look.

  Yes.

  I thought Alex’s room was out of bounds.

  I’m his wife. No secrets.

  ‘No secrets’. That might be a good title for the book.

  It wasn’t until the following week I went up to have a look. Just on impulse. He’d left the door ajar, and I fancied a bit of a snoop. Simple as that. It was a few days before he went off to that Sunday medical conference.

  And?

  There was no spyhole. But I did notice the video-cam up there and wondered what it was doing in his room. I’d been looking for it a few days previously and was surprised to find it there. Alex had never shown the remotest interest in either making or watching videotapes of the family. So I was curious. And I had a look. The diary tape was in there. Very soppy. The sort of thing I would do, not Alex.

  So you saw his video diary.

  Which made it plain that there were more tapes. I found them quickly. Alex hadn’t hidden them very well. They were nicely filed, but badly hidden. He was obviously confident that his domain was secure. I sat down there and then and I watched them.

  How did that make you feel?

  I was incredibly shocked.

  Was it then that you realized what Sherry Thomas was capable of ? Perhaps that was the moment it all fell into place for you. You suddenly had your chance and you ran with it.

  No. I didn’t know what to do. It was shattering. I thought of that woman having power over me. I thought of her watching footage of our kids. I found it unbearable. I know I should have confronted Alex straight away, phoned him, screamed at him. Divorced him.

  But you didn’t.

  No.

  Why on earth not?

  Because I realized I didn’t love him any more.

  At that moment?

  I think so. Not stopped loving him, you understand. Just realized that I’d stopped loving him. And any last vestiges of loyalty I might have had disappeared as I watched the tapes. Because I wanted to stay with Mark Pengelly but not smash up our home – and if I’m honest, not lose the financial security that came with it. And if it was going to break up, I wanted Alex to be responsible.

  Why?

  Because the kids were going to blame someone. And I wanted it to be him rather than me. Also, if I did call a halt to it there and then – well, I’d still have a suspicious husband on my hands, given what he’d seen on the videotapes up to that point. And I really didn’t want that.

  So you decided to stage a performance for him.

  I was just fighting fire with fire. I had nothing to lose by letting it all continue between Alex and Sherry Thomas and everything to gain. It could continue indefinitely, as far as I was concerned. Apart from anything else, it was making Alex a better father, ironically enough. He was happy, the kids were happy, and I was happy. I thought I could control the situation. All Mark and I had to do was keep out of the front room.

  Samantha Seymour sighs deeply and lights a Silk Cut Ultra.

  Look. I’m no angel, I admit. I’ve made mistakes. Mistakes I bitterly regret. All right, I was bored with him. All right, our marriage wasn’t what it used to be. And obviously I put on that little act with Mark, which was pretty cheap of me.

  – And the act you put on when he told you about the cameras? The surprise, the outrage, when in fact you’d known about them for weeks? That punch in the face was convincing.

  It was convincing because I was genuinely incensed. He’d ruined everything – decent, moral, can’t-even-cheat-on-his-wife-properly Alex. Just had to confess. Bloody Catholics. Anyone else would have just kept on and everything would have been fine. I’d still have Mark and Alex would still be alive. And don’t forget I had a long-standing grudge against him, boiling away inside me. Even before any of this happened, he’d betrayed me. You must understand that I had been angry for some time.

  About what?

  About that thing he did with Pamela Geale, of course.

  I thought you said you’d overreacted.

  No, I didn’t overreact. It was disgusting. I still am disgusted. What was the use of Alex if he wasn’t solid and reliable and faithful? He was boring, washed-up. He was impotent, he didn’t earn enough money. But at least I could always rely on him. That’s important in a family. God, I would never have had a fling with Mark if –

  You didn’t get involved with Mark Pengelly until after the kiss between Alex and Pamela Geale?

  Certainly not. Mark had been trying it on for ages, but I had rebuffed him time and again. I was tempted, but I didn’t want to sell out Alex. But then the thing with… Geale. I lost all respect for Alex. Something went out of me. Some key element of my willpower. A few days later I gave in to Mark. And I was overwhelmed – overwhelmed. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before, actually.
Not really. But with Mark – it was like everything I’d read about in those silly romantic novels was possible. The lights, the fireworks. Incredible. After that I was lost. We were all lost. So, yes, I had an affair with Mark Pengelly.

  Had?

  It’s over now. It had to end. The guilt after Alex’s death destroyed everything. So my heart was broken twice. But I had no choice. The children would never have stood for it. And I didn’t want it any more. The price had proved too high.

  Right.

  I swear to you on the life of my children. Follow me, track me, do what you like. It’s finished. He’s left London. I don’t even miss him now.

  That’s strange, because Guy says you’re pregnant with his baby.

  He says what? Poor Guy. He’s just not dealing with the whole thing very well at all. Retreating into a kind of paranoid fantasy life.

  You’re not pregnant, then?

  He just hates me because, for the first time ever last week, I wouldn’t send him the money he wanted. The money he demanded. For some stupid gaming console. They won’t talk to me, but they’re always hassling me for cash.

  Victoria says the same. About you being pregnant.

  She’ll go along with whatever Guy wants. She’s idolized him since Alex died. Funny, isn’t it? Her younger brother a father figure. Well, I suppose he does look like Alex.

  You’re not pregnant, then?

  Of course I’m not. Do I look pregnant?

  I can’t tell.

  What kind of woman do you think I am? I admit that I did fake the scene with Mark to keep the affair safe. I admit I went to see Sherry Thomas out of curiosity and a desire to equalize the power balance between us before Alex ended it all – as he announced he was going to do in his video diary. I admit I let the thing go on far longer than it should have. I admit that I didn’t understand Sherry Thomas as well as I thought I did. But my copybook is no more blotted than Alex’s is. And, at the risk of being infantile, he started it.

  Why did you decide to go and see Sherry Thomas? After all, the whole thing was coming to an end anyway. Why not let it run its course? You could have kept Alex in the dark about you and Pengelly easily enough. And you’d have had the moral high ground to boot.