In many ways 2017 was the best year of Helen’s life. Her contribution to the Year of the Toad, whilst not a triumph exactly, had certainly been a success. The Sussex Conservation Society had given her a special mention at their annual awards ceremony and her photo, alongside one of her custom-built shelters, had appeared on their website ever since.

She had been able to share her public success with friends from all over the world, at least those in the toading community, that is until last Friday. Up until then she had barely understood what malware was. She wasn’t stupid, she knew that it was something to do with computers, but not that it could be so destructive.

Every trace of 2017 had gone, they said. Not a single thing left of their website, including all the photographs of Helen and the rest of that year’s winners. The Society administrator had watched helplessly as a cartoon dragon had made its way across the screen ‘eating’ not just toads and Helen, but a whole variety of bats, mice, badgers and rare orchids.

Who would do this Helen thought? What possible motivation could there be for destroying this kind of information? She hadn’t got any copies. She hadn’t thought about keeping them as they were so prominent online. By 2018 she had moved on of course. It was the Year of the Tapir and, though she couldn’t contribute very directly, she had taken a very keen interest and corresponded throughout with a man called Arthur who lived in Cusco, in the Andes.

At the news that such useless vandalism had destroyed every record of something she was so proud of, Helen’s normal gentle disposition was radically changed. She felt ice running through her veins and resolved to find the perpetrator.

Though she was no expert on viruses, except those affecting toads, Helen was a very resourceful person. She set a trap for the pathetic individual that hid behind the dragon. Accessing the dark web for the first time had required a strong stomach, but Helen was determined. She appealed mainly to that most despicable of human emotions: vanity. A few hours after her post congratulating the dragon for its destruction of the Year of the Toad (Sussex branch) – she got a response.

Expertly she managed to coax @Eduardo into what began to feel like a relationship. She surprised herself both by the sheer callousness of her tactics and how quickly her victim made themself so vulnerable. From that point obtaining their full identity felt like child’s play. She only dimly remembered ‘@Eduardo’ from, what had felt like such a momentous celebration of her beloved toads, but there was no mistaking the cute little face and the immaculate pigtails of the seven-year-old from Lewes.

The Conservation Society had written the girl such a lovely letter but felt it couldn’t include her toad pictures this time (they were in fact very poor sketches, that only a besotted parent would allow to grace the side of a fridge). The family had written a letter of complaint, but the committee had commendably stuck by its rules. All that Helen could do now was, what was the term? Ghost her. A poor kind of revenge, but it would have to do.

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