Picture Perfect

Jane waited in fearful expectation, staring at her computer screen. She glanced once more around the room, especially at the bookcase behind her. It had taken her hours to perfect the bookcase: to arrange the books so it would reflect how she was a person of interest and in no way weird. Just the correct number of mementos from holidays abroad and her favourite picture of Toby. Why had he left her? She so missed their long walks together. This time in Lockdown would have been perfect, had he still been alive. They could have used the time she wasn’t wasting, commuting to work, to go on longer walks so he could have had more treats. Maybe, she thought, it was all those treats that had killed him. Either that or old age!

Her laptop began to ring, causing the butterflies in her stomach to fly wildly. Jane took a few large, calming breaths. They didn’t work. She grabbed hold of the large glass of red wine at the side of the laptop and took a therapeutic slurp. That worked. She swiftly rubbed her teeth with her index finger, to remove any tannin staining, then confidently clicked ‘Accept Call.’

“Hello.” The same hunk in wet weather gear, leaning over an oil rig safety rail, his dating app profile picture, greeted her eyes but the voice wasn’t anywhere near as dark and husky as she had expected. Sounded more like a young boy who spent all day inside on his computer.

“Hi. Are you ok?” Jane now felt exposed: she had her camera on and he was hiding behind his profile picture. “Are you turning your camera on?”

“Sorry,” his thin voice replied. “My camera’s broken and I’ll have to wait until I’m back on-shore before I can get it repaired.”

This was the first date Jane had been on in years. Before Toby had died, life in lockdown had just about been bearable. They had kept up a healthy exercise regime and she had all the love and cuddles a girl could desire. Since his death, she had been bereft. Her life had become one long round of sleep, home working and comfort eating while watching streamed TV box-sets. She was actually struggling to remember the last time she had actually stepped foot outside of her front door.

In desperation, of both love and to break her junk food eating habit, Jane had finally given in to the barrage of internet adverts and had signed up for ‘that’ dating app. Almost one of the first profiles she had seen on the site had been for Dave, a rugged, bearded oil rig worker out in the stormy North Sea. His profile picture, with the angry grey waves in the background, made her heart melt and other parts of her yearn for the warm body of another living soul. There was only so much comfort a TV could provide.

“You look amazing,” Dave continued. “Is that your dog in the picture?”

Jane turned fleetingly towards the picture but didn’t trust herself to look. “Yes,” she replied, more deadpan than she had intended.

“What’s his name? He looks full of life. Bet he’s good company.”

Jane sighed and steeled herself not to cry. “He’s called Toby and he died a month ago.” She scooped up her glass of Merlot and took an extremely large gulp. It worked. She didn’t cry.

“I’m sorry. That must be hard for you.” For the first time, in all of their conversations on-line, this was the first hint of emotion, of empathy, that Dave had shown. And she liked it.

“Thank you. It has been.”

The conversation moved on and Jane got increasingly more comfortable talking to Dave. It was nice to have someone, other than her friends or her mum, to talk to. She regularly took another slurp of her wine, for fortification, until one time she went for more wine and found the glass had run dry. Jane wished she’d brought the bottle into the study. She wished Dave’s camera worked, so she could look at his rugged features for real, not just on his profile picture. She wished Toby was still alive, lying on her feet and keeping her toes warm. She wished…

“…and that’s why I don’t have any money to fix the camera on my laptop.”

Jane realised she’d drifted off from the conversation, thinking about Toby. Before she could stop herself, she heard her voice asking, “Sorry, why don’t you have any money?”

“Because I’ve sent everything I have to help pay for my sister’s operation!”

Jane tried to physically shake herself awake. “Sorry, but isn’t her operation free?”

Dave now began to sound a little annoyed. “It would be if she was in the UK but she had the accident in America. They have private hospitals. The medical bills are horrendous! My parents don’t know whether to fly over there to be with her or just send the money to cover the medical bills.”

Jane really wished she’d been paying attention at the start of this piece of news. “What about medical insurance? Does she not have any?”

Dave sighed, like he’d already said this before. “She got holiday insurance before she went out to America, but they are refusing to pay. Something about her invalidating her insurance, though I don’t know how.”

It seemed like a truly terrible situation. Jane could feel Dave’s helplessness. “I’m so sorry this is happening. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so,” he began, “unless…”

“Unless?”

Dave began to backtrack. “No, it doesn’t matter. Forget I said anything.”

Jane wanted to know. If she could help, then she’d help. “Unless what?”

“Unless,” Dave began coyly, “You could help, maybe, with the medical fees?”

Somewhere in Jane’s complex brain, a bell began to ring. While her mouth kept him talking, Jane opened another tab on her computer. In the search engine, she typed in ‘Oil rig scam’. She dropped back into the conversation:

“…that must have been a nasty accident…”

Jane smiled. She was very good at keeping people talking. There was an article three or four down the list by Lovescammer.com: Oil Rig Scammer – 10 things you need to know about scams. She clicked on the link.

Once she accepted the cookies, Jane began to read:

‘Oil rig scams are one of the most common forms of online scams today. Here, the romance scammer tells you that they work on an oil rig, in a bid to win your heart and steal your identity or money.’

What are the signs that they are a scammer? Jane asked herself. She was recalling an article she’d read in the free paper. The paper she used to read on her commute into work. Jane had never realised she would actually make use of the article.

Jane found the section, ‘How To Spot A Scammer’. Number one, they tell you they work off-shore.

Jane said to herself, ‘Yes he has. Next.’

Number two, the scammer uploads stolen pictures of an attractive individual. Jane opened another tab and typed ‘oil rig worker’ into the image search. The search came back and there, right in the middle of the top line, was the picture of Dave she knew so well. However, the caption underneath the picture said he was a Norwegian rigger called Stefan.

Number three, avoids video chats or says the camera is broken. ‘Damn right he has’ she again said to herself.

“…and what are your parents doing this weekend…”

Jane was seething, but that other part of her brain was doing a brilliant job keeping him talking.

Number four, they ask for money or gift cards. ‘Yes he has.’ Jane was ready to kill someone. Dave looked like the obvious target.

“…what a wonderful thing for you to do, Stefan.”

Dave paused. “Who’s Stefan?”

Jane steadied herself. “Are you not Stefan?”

“No,” he sounded puzzled, “I’m Dave.”

“That’s interesting,” she responded, with her work voice, “as I have just found your picture on the internet and the name underneath says you are called Stefan.”

Dave’s end of the conversation went dead. Very dead. Then, “Ah…”

There was a click and then the picture of Dave, or Stefan, disappeared. Probably forever.

Jane felt incredible. She didn’t realise she had it in her. Trying to stand however, she discovered her legs were less steady. She scooped up her empty wine glass and resolved to track down the bottle of Merlot in the kitchen before attempting another go at this dating rubbish. Or maybe just look through the internet for a new dog.