‘She called me up,’ he told Parlabane. ‘It was soon after it had all kicked off about the blog and those people at the hospital had been identified. She sounded calm, professional; very “let’s not mention the elephant in the room” of us having slept together, while at the same time actually playing on it. She said she wanted to be sure she couldn’t get hacked again, so she needed someone she could trust to come around to her office and check out her computer security.
‘Seriously, man, I had no idea. I was actually feeling a bit guilty that she seemed so clueless, that she should be coming to me of all people to sort it out. My main concern was how I’d keep a poker face if she started unloading about what had happened to her.’
He was earnest to the point of insistent. The guy sounded to Parlabane like someone who was still spooked by this experience, nearly five years down the line.
‘I go in there and she shuts the door, saying something about making sure nobody could see in, as she was paranoid about her new password. The screen was blank, in sleep mode. I gave the mouse a nudge to wake it up and suddenly I’m looking at the log-in screen for her blog, with the password field all asterisks. I couldn’t believe how clueless she was: I honestly thought she was gonna ask me to show her how to set up a new password.
‘She said it wasn’t responding when she clicked the log-in button, so I had a go and nothing happened. Then I noticed the desktop background was exactly the same as my own. That’s why it wasn’t responding: I was clicking on a photo. She had filled her entire display with a screengrab from my computer.’
‘Awkward,’ Parlabane suggested.
‘She had a photo on her phone too. She said, “I know you did this.” I was shitting myself, but thinking fast. I knew she couldn’t prove nothing with this, and I told her that.’
‘How did she respond?’
‘She said I was right. She said she couldn’t prove I had hacked her blog, but that we both knew it was true. I’m thinking, she must be recording this or something, trying to get me admitting it on tape, so I said nothing. Next thing I know, she fucking stabs me.’
‘With a hypodermic?’
‘Yeah. That was the first time I noticed she had surgical gloves on. She moved like lightning: fucking found a vein too. Half a second later the syringe is gone again, palmed out of sight.
‘I said: “What the fuck you doing? You fucking stabbed me.” That’s when she tells me: “We both know that’s true, but you can’t prove anything.”’
‘Touché.’
‘No, mate, that wasn’t the half of it. She tells me she got the hypo from a sharps bucket down at A&E: that’s why she wasn’t handling it without gloves. You should see A&E at Alderbrook: it’s wall-to-wall junkies half the time. She advised I get tested for hepatitis and HIV as soon as possible, then showed me the door, like I was her patient. I swear she never even raised her voice the whole time.’
‘I take it the tests were okay.’
‘Yeah, man, but it was a long couple of weeks before I got the results back, truth. Worst two weeks of my life. I know it’s likely she only said all that about A&E to mess with me, and the needle was actually fresh, but the scary thing is I’ll never know.
‘I accept I pulled a shitty move, but her response was off the scale, seriously. And when I found out she was getting bagged from her job over the blog, I was kacking it in case she decided I was due some afters for that too. This is someone you do not want to fuck with. This is a woman who will make it her purpose in life to settle the score. They say payback’s a bitch? Then believe me: you don’t want payback from the Bladebitch.’