tore digital data—mobile, CDs. Everything. It will be checked, wiped of anything inflammatory, and given back to her. We’re not nicking her things. Your husband took some prints. I suspect he’ll keep them as evidence in case she does try to blackmail or threaten again. I don’t think she will. Something of a coward when it came to the crunch. Blackmailers often are wimps. The amateur ones, that is. Pros, the criminally minded, they are harder to break.”
She stared out the window at the passing vehicles and their passengers, all going about their daily life. “I hope I never have to deal with one, Johnson.”
The car pulled up outside the salon and he held the door open for her.
Swinging her legs out, she smiled up at him. “Thank you. I know it made your job a little less tedious, but, from my point of view, I’d rather not have a repeat.”
Later in the day, after she’d spoken to Johnson, Gemma almost tore the account up, fearful of Jason’s response to Rothesay’s engineering of Emily into an accomplice.
She doubted she would ever find out more about Emily. Her future lay in the hands of other people—those Jason would appoint to take care of her and see her put back on the right path.
***
Emily is a freelance photographer. She often works as a photographer’s assistant when needed, a kind of locum. She does weddings, bar mitzvahs, birthday parties, and other special occasions. Rothesay didn’t like her ad hoc work, but she needed Emily’s rent and income for mortgage repayments, contributions to school fees and debts. Emily didn’t complain about Delia’s extravagance.
In her spare time, Emily does freelance photography. She hadn’t done anything kinky or sexual in content in over six years, until she met Delia Rothesay. When mobile phones came with cameras, people weren’t interested in her snapshots any longer. She likes to photograph people in their day-to-day activities. Observation studies. Newspapers and magazines have bought a few of her pictures. She is proud of her skills behind the lens.
She met Delia through a newspaper advertisement for a lodger. Delia seemed nice, friendly, and made Emily welcome. They went to pop concerts, the local pubs, and Emily believed she had made a good friend. The money from her tenancy was important, but not enough for Delia. She didn’t declare Emily’s rent as income and saved money on her taxes. Emily is a lesbian, Delia is not. Emily simply fell in love, and Delia never acknowledged it and kept the relationship platonic. She did take advantage, though, of Emily’s besotted obsession.
Emily’s role morphed into a housekeeper. Doing the laundry, cooking, and cleaning. Delia gave her space to work and store her photographic collection and equipment. In amongst this, when Emily was out, Delia found her photographs, the old prints she took at the fetish clubs and parties.
The custody of Delia’s daughter is tenuous. Her ex-husband doesn’t want her anywhere near their daughter—probably suspects she has “loose morals” and frequent affairs. He caught her in bed with another man, which was why they divorced. Any excuse, and they will be back in the courts. Delia’s worries about being exposed had made her realise the power of blackmail. Seeing the photos gave her the idea. Emily hadn’t intended them for viewing by anyone. She considers them artworks, photographic artistry, and for her eyes only. She hadn’t disposed of them, and that has made her feel guilty and angry with herself, especially when Delia used them against her. Emily’s photos included her own, the self-portraits in fetish clothes or erotic poses.
Delia’s first blackmail victim was Emily. At the time, she worked for a reputable photographer, and Delia threatened to expose her, to ruin her credibility and say that she took pornographic photographs for publishing on websites. Total lies, but that was what she would tell Emily’s employer, her parents, and her sister, who is happily married with children.
From then on, Emily was embroiled. She didn’t see threats, she saw a woman who was going to protect her from being exposed. As I listened to her story in the car, I could see she had twisted it all around in her head. To see Delia as manipulative and exploitative was beyond her romantically deprived mind. Emily was told to go through her kinky-photo collection and identify anyone she knew was still about, either online or could be contacted in person. Her friendly nature meant she had stayed in contact with many and, at Delia’s insistence, she contacted the ones considered to be easy targets.
She identified a few people, and the blackmailing took shape. Emily knows it is wrong, but she feared being exposed herself and somehow going along with Delia was easier than leaving. The victims paid up until Delia would grow bored of them and move to her next victim.
The list dried up. Emily couldn’t identify many and others had moved on, like me, to new lives. The longer Emily stayed with Delia, the harder it became for her to function on her own and to think for herself. Blinkered by Delia’s charming words about how she would help set up a proper studio, they built the studio in the cellar, where Emily developed her old films and negatives.
Things seemed to be better. Then she spotted me.
Delia did need the money. Mr Rothesay nagged her, bullied her (which she hated), and made her pay more and more towards costs of childcare. She had debts: too many expensive clothes, an enormous car loan, and other credit cards. But Delia also missed manipulating others, humiliating them.
Emily spotted me at the dance academy. Purely a chance encounter. She waved to me, trying to catch my attention. I didn’t see her, but Delia did, and demanded Emily tell her who I was and how she knew me. My photos were some of the earliest Emily ever took. She was made to dig them out. She remembered my name but nothing else. (Emily couldn’t stop apologising that she kept them.). Delia scanned the originals.
Delia grew overconfident and took risks with my blackmail. She gambled on not knowing all the facts. The Facebook scam in particular.
Emily didn’t go with Gibson because she was convinced Delia would change, stop again, and make good on her promises to set up that proper studio. A pipe dream. Delia strung Emily out too far. I think seeing us there, in the house, and knowing what they had done was illegal, ended the illusion. Like an addiction, Emily’s obsession with a fruitless love for Delia had been broken. She told me all this in the car and then wept bitter tears of regret and self-hatred. Please don’t blame her. She is quite pathetic and broken under her outer shell. So much potential wasted by another’s indifference and manipulation.
Rothesay didn’t always bluff with her victims. One girl she blackmailed had pushed back, annoying her. Foolishly, the victim used her work e-mail, so she turned up at her workplace one day with copies of photos to leave about her place. The unfortunate victim quickly backed down and paid up.
***
Gemma left the account of her husband’s desk. After they had eaten, he read it while Gemma dealt with domestic issues in the background. As she brushed past the kitchen table, he encased her hand in his and he led her out of the room, into the drawing room.
“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly.
His statement surprised her. “Why?”
“I hadn’t taken into account how upsetting Emily’s story might have been for you. I should have been there when she told you.” He drew her onto his lap, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder.
She loved his spontaneous cuddles. “I was fine. Well, no, I was angry. With Rothesay for corrupting Emily, and Emily for doing what I ironically despise in women: being a doormat and letting go of common sense. Then, I remembered me, how I lost my way and let things go wrong.”
Writing the account down hadn’t been easy, as her mind had constantly drifted back to darker times.
“I should have guessed you would go too far with your thoughts.” He kissed the top of her head.