Chapter Four

The weeks flew past and almost before Bella knew it the end of her probation period was upon her. On that Friday she dressed with particular care. She knew that whenever possible Isadora Faye herself would conduct a new employee’s induction to the OAK Institute. Bella hadn’t met Isadora, who by all accounts was something of a recluse.

Her mouth was dry as she entered the building. She hadn’t been told what to expect, just that if she passed her probation she would be inducted to OAK. Crossing the hall, she said good morning to Kelly, who leapt up and sprinted over with a smile.

‘Bella! So. The big day.’ The teeth were as dazzling as ever. ‘If you wanna go up to the top floor, room 157, they’re waiting for you there. Good luck.’

Kelly threw her arms around her and Bella’s Britishness shot up to eleven on the scale as she reciprocated with a couple of feeble pats on the other woman’s back. Released, she headed for the stairs, her stomach turning over. She was dying for a cup of tea but it seemed inappropriate to arrive at such a portentous meeting holding a mug.

Room 157 was long and narrow, with a gleaming mahogany boardroom table down the middle. On one wall a tapestry had been raised in gathered loops to reveal a big screen. Catherine and Ben sat side by side at the table, unsmiling. Ben indicated that she should take the chair at the end nearest the door.

‘Morning, Bella. Tea? Coffee?’

His tone was more formal than usual. Neither he nor Catherine had a drink, but they each had a printed report laid in front of them on the glossy tabletop. Taking the chair indicated, Bella shook her head. Ben picked up the report and glanced through a couple of paragraphs before proceeding.

‘We’re here today to discuss your probation period. Catherine has pulled together this report based on input from myself and the team, and other sources.’

Other sources? Like what – or whom? wondered Bella.

‘I’m delighted to say that on the whole, you’ve performed extremely well,’ Ben said.

When Bella was twelve, she’d had a school report including a summary section from her form teacher. The teacher had propounded at great length Bella’s achievements through the year, her excellent qualities and the fact she was a pleasure to teach. If he had to pick out one area for improvement, he said, it would be that she should raise her hand more often in maths lessons. Bella had taken in nothing from that report other than that she hadn’t done well in maths. She had continued, throughout her life, to root out the tiny negatives in a field of positives, like a pig hunting truffles. Ben’s use of the phrase ‘on the whole’ struck fear into her soul. ‘On the whole’, meant there were some areas she hadn’t performed well in.

He put down the report and picked up a remote control.

‘In fact,’ he continued, ‘I would be offering you a permanent contract right now if it weren’t for one thing.’

Something cold dropped into the pit of her stomach. She knew what he was going to show her. Security footage of when she went nosing around the building during the OAK meeting. Oh God. The screen came alive and sure enough, there was a shot of her walking down one of the corridors. Something was odd though – she was holding her phone up in front of her. She hadn’t had her phone with her when she’d done her reconnoitre that day.

‘Why,’ asked Ben, scrutinising her, ‘were you taking pictures of the building in your first few days here?’

‘Oh!’ Was it worth trying to make something up that would make her seem less of a moron? No, best to be honest. ‘Oh, that! I’ve… sorry, this is ridiculous. I’ve got a terrible sense of direction. As Catherine knows, in fact – she had to rescue me one morning, didn’t you, Catherine? I thought if I took pictures of landmarks on the route to the office, I’d be able to get there without people having to shepherd me all the way from the entrance hall.’

Comprehension swept across Catherine’s face and she said, in deprecating tones, ‘I can certainly confirm that Bella got lost on her second day. She was over in Human Resources, with no idea how she’d got there.’

Ben’s shoulders relaxed. ‘In that case, Bella, I’m delighted to offer you a contract as a permanent employee of Acorn Consulting. Congratulations. Would you like to accept?’

Bella grabbed the outstretched hand and shook it so hard Ben flinched. ‘I’d love to. Thank you.’

‘Excellent. Cup of tea to celebrate?’ While he went over to the cabinet in the corner and poured out the drinks, Catherine pulled a bell-rope that dangled against the wall.

Ben handed round cups and saucers and they sipped in silence, waiting.

A muffled bell chimed at the other end of the room and Ben strode to the door. Catherine stood up and Bella hastened to do the same. In the doorway, a small, immaculately coiffured woman appeared. Bella resisted the urge to curtsey. Isadora Faye crossed the room and paused at the opposite end of the table before sitting, and gesturing for the others to do the same.

‘Good morning, Bella,’ she said. ‘It is my great pleasure to introduce you to the Organised Acts of Kindness Institute.’

Until Isadora had spelt out OAK’s name in full, it had never occurred to Bella that it was an acronym; she’d never seen it written down. The Organised Acts of Kindness Institute. It sounded as unlikely as the Monster Raving Looney Party. But at least, unlike at her interview, she had the benefit of having got to know these people for three months. She was excited to find out more, rather than unsettled and anxious. Even the obscure warnings of Maggie Thatcher had faded into the background in the face of the day-to-day normality of her job and colleagues.

Isadora nodded to Ben, who pressed a button on the remote. A portrait of a woman appeared on the screen. She could have been straight out of a Jane Austen novel with her empire-line dress, understated string of pearls and pink and white complexion.

‘My ancestor, Emma Faye, established the Organised Acts of Kindness Institute over two hundred years ago. She also incorporated Acorns & Company, both to conceal and financially support the work of the Institute. She was an heiress. One of the wealthiest women in England. Like many of her female contemporaries, she was frustrated by the limited role society afforded her.’ Isadora paused to take a couple of sips from the glass of water in front of her. ‘After the early death of her husband she began to look for a philanthropic outlet. She took seats on the boards of several charities, but her ambition was to do more.’

Ben and Catherine must have heard this story a hundred times but they showed no sign of it. Catherine leaned forward, chin in hand, eyes gazing at Isadora in what looked very much like adoration.

‘Emma had three children: John, Edward and Beatrice. When John, the eldest, was seven years old, he was playing with the local farmer’s son in the farmyard. The two were leaping from a hayrick onto the ground. On one particular jump, John landed on a nail sticking out of a piece of wood, which had been hidden under loose hay. He screamed. His playmate screamed also. The men were out in the fields and the farmer’s wife at the market. A stranger, passing by the farm on his way to the nearby market town, came to their aid. He removed the nail from John’s foot, which bled profusely, bathed it and bandaged it with his handkerchief. John, by then, had calmed enough to tell the man where he lived. Despite it being quite out of his way, the man put John on his pony’s back and led him home.’

Isadora took more mouse-like sips of the water. It seemed incongruous to hear words relating to children’s feet, blood and nails coming out of that neatly-lipsticked mouth.

‘Emma was grateful, as any mother would be. She tried to offer the man a meal, money even, but he would accept nothing. He said it was no more than anyone would do. She thought about that. It was no more than anyone like he, or she, would do, but not everyone in the world is alike. This was her epiphany. Small acts of kindness were random. One never knew if or when they might occur. What if one could introduce method into kindnesses and increase their frequency? How imperceptibly and yet how materially humankind would benefit from the cumulative effects of unlooked-for kindness. Emma, at that moment, conceived the basis of the OAK Institute.’

One more tiny sip and Isadora stood up, looking at Bella as if they were co-conspirators, as if she were Willy Wonka about to show Charlie his factory. ‘Come and see what it has become.’

Catherine stayed where she was while the others filed out through the far door which led into a small, windowless hall. Ben opened the wooden door in the opposite wall, revealing a tiny old-fashioned lift.

He swung the grille open and waved Bella inside. ‘I’ll leave you in Isadora’s capable hands.’

Bella pressed herself against the back of the lift, trying to leave as much room as possible for Isadora who stood in front, with her back to her. There were buttons marked 3, 2, 1 and G. Ignoring these, Ben reached in and pressed a button marked ‘Assistance’ before slamming the grille back into place. The lift whirred into life and began to descend. Bella had an excellent view of the top of Isadora’s head. Her grey hair was stiff with the dull sheen of hairspray and a faint smell of roses emanated from her when she moved.

The lift came to rest with a jolt.

After a moment in which nothing happened, Isadora moved her head an infinitesimal amount in Bella’s direction. ‘Could you, dear?’

It dawned on Bella that Isadora was waiting for her to open the door. She shuffled to the front and grappled with the stiff handle. Once she’d unclasped the fastening, it swung open without effort and they emerged into a part of the building Bella hadn’t seen before. If the main house was perfectly preserved, with all hints of modernity tucked behind curtains and under rugs, this was the polar opposite. The atrium in which they stood had a flat glass roof through which flooded natural light. Along the stark white corridor ahead of them a row of solid steel doors punctuated the right-hand wall. There wasn’t so much as a stray ceiling rose in sight. Disoriented, Bella turned to find her companion watching her like a gleeful child.

Isadora beckoned her with a finger upon which glittered an enormous amethyst. ‘Come.’

Bella took a deep breath. Whatever was behind those steel doors couldn’t be as bad as her anxiety dreams. Particularly if it happened to be her mum, who would be a welcome, if unexpected, addition to the scene.

They approached the first door and it became apparent that Isadora could operate doors by herself when absolutely obliged to, as long as she didn’t have to touch anything. She stood close to a small panel beside the door and commanded, ‘Open.’

Sesame, Bella was thinking to herself as the door slid aside.

‘This,’ announced Isadora, ‘is one of our observatories.’

For a moment, Bella thought she had stepped into one of her dreams. Everything was movement, colour – her eyes were telling her brain impossible things about the depth of field. Gradually, as if she was staring into one of the ‘Magic Eye’ posters that had covered her walls when she was a child, she forced the pieces of the puzzle to make sense. There were perhaps a hundred people in the room, wearing headsets and carrying tablet computers. Every millimetre of each concave wall was covered in television screens.

She followed Isadora over to stand behind a man in a green T-shirt and glasses who was absorbed by the action on one of the screens. It showed a young woman, hesitating at the bottom of a flight of steps in what looked like a train station. She grasped a large suitcase and started to heave it up the stairs. On the first step, she nearly overbalanced and had to grab for the handrail, struggling to hold on to the case with her other hand as commuters shoved past her and streamed up the stairs.

The man in the green T-shirt was speaking into his headset and typing on his tablet while he watched the girl on the screen. From the left side of the shot, an unremarkable middle-aged man in a suit appeared. Without a word, he took hold of the suitcase, flashed a brief smile at the young woman, and carried it to the top of the stairs. She sprang up the stairs after him and seemed to be thanking him before he strode off out of sight.

The man’s attention then switched to a different screen, and as Bella looked around she realised this process was being repeated over and over, thousands of times, all day long. Unsuspecting members of the public were being helped via the medium of millions of cameras and microphones which acted as the eyes and ears of this covert team.

When she was a little girl, Bella’s grandmother had told her that Jesus was watching her all the time. All the time. That had made her stop and think. And for a while Jesus’s eyes would pop into her head at inopportune moments, halting the progress of an index finger towards a nostril or making her close the door to the biscuit cupboard and climb back down off the stool. As she got older, she formed her own opinion about Jesus and his eyes, an opinion which she didn’t share with her grandmother for fear of upsetting her feelings. Nonetheless, despite being certain that nothing godly was peering over her shoulder, Bella found herself almost always behaving as if she were observed. Her constant question to herself was what would people think of this or that act that she was about to perform.

Here in the observatory, Jesus’s eyes popped into her head again without warning. All those times when she’d imagined she was being watched – she was being watched. As she and Isadora weaved their way through headset-wearing hordes in the observatory and Isadora explained some of the technology in use, she realised the full extent of OAK’s eyes and ears. They hacked into CCTV, webcams, security cameras and spy planes. They installed hidden cameras in vehicles and appliances. Their agents wore tiny cameras in their clothing. It struck Bella that she herself had probably been helped by the OAK Institute in the past.

Isadora indicated a screen in the centre of the far wall which displayed a number that was changing from 11,348 to 11,349. ‘The kindness tally for today.’ She seemed lost in thought for a moment, then gave a slight shrug and added, ‘Well, it’s still early I suppose.’

‘Will I… Will that be part of my job?’ asked Bella.

Isadora shook her head. ‘The observe and deploy teams are specially trained. They are recruited for that work.’

Something in her tone gave Bella the impression that she wouldn’t fulfil the criteria for the observe and deploy teams; not by a long shot.

They left the room and were passing down the corridor as Isadora continued. ‘You’ll find there are a lot of specialisms at OAK. Different jobs require very specific skillsets. But all our people are integral to the correct operation of this organisation, from the elite teams you’ve seen in action here right down to the smallest, greenest leaf on the OAK tree,’ she said, crinkling her eyes at Bella.

Bella wasn’t terribly flattered by the implication that she was the smallest, greenest leaf but made no comment.

They passed by more observatories down the long corridor, Isadora’s deportment and the way she held her head perfectly balanced atop her shoulders bringing to mind a ballet dancer – or perhaps a rather strict ex-ballet dancer who now taught novices.

‘The scale of this…’ Bella trailed off, indicating the numbers of rooms packed with people. ‘Where does all the money come from to fund it? There must be thousands of people employed by OAK.’

She saw Isadora shoot a glance at her and wondered if she’d overstepped the mark. Before answering, she led Bella through a door and up a short spiral staircase to a mezzanine overlooking one of the observatories.

‘It’s a very astute question, my dear,’ she replied, as they stood by the glass barrier and looked down on the milling mass of observe and deploy staff, each wrapped up in his or her own on-screen drama. ‘AC is the front company and does provide some financial support, but not enough to run an operation like this. It’s vast, as you suggest, although only operational in the UK and parts of the US to date. We plan further expansion into the US this year, and Europe the year after. We did try a pilot expansion into Paris.’ She sniffed and plucked an invisible thread from her sleeve. ‘Sadly, the levels of hostility we encountered from the average Parisian demanded a much greater level of kindness intervention than we’re able to finance at this point.

‘We generate income for OAK from various sources. I mentioned my ancestors were wealthy – the Fayes are one of the largest landowners in England. We invest our income from our property holdings, and we also own a portfolio of companies whose affiliation to OAK is not public, but whose income helps to support us.’

As she finished, she gave Bella a tight smile which seemed to indicate the topic was now closed.

Looking at her standing there, in her classic Chanel suit, against the backdrop of glass, steel and screens, Bella felt a question rising to her lips that not even the warning growls of What Others Might Think of Her could repress.

‘Why do you do it?’ she asked. ‘All the money and effort that it takes, why not just run AC as a normal business?’

Isadora laughed and turned to face Bella, one manicured hand resting lightly on the glass barrier.

‘You might as well ask why…’ her eyes darted around the space above Bella’s head as she searched for the right analogy, ‘…why Shakespeare wrote plays or why Mozart composed music. OAK is my life, it’s why I’m here on this earth. And besides, if we weren’t here, you’d know about it, my dear.’ Unexpectedly, she took one of Bella’s hands in both her own. Isadora’s hands were soft and dry, the grip firm. ‘Imagine if those little positive interactions with strangers that brighten your day stopped happening. How would you feel? If your car broke down and no one stopped to help. If you forgot your money and no one would lend you your bus fare home. If you were choking on something in a restaurant and no one stepped forward to save your life.’

The grip tightened on her hand. ‘I can tell you exactly how you would feel. You would feel abandoned, neglected, hurt, alone. You would resent those around you. You would come to expect no fellow-feeling from others and in return, you would show none. The world would be a colder, crueller place. That is life without the OAK Institute, my dear, and don’t you forget it.’