The Con

by L M Bee

  “Okay okay, stop nagging, you’re right. I’ll have a chat with the children this morning, and break the news to them. Oliver’s busy all morning anyway, being interviewed about the takeover with his American chum, we’re not meeting until this afternoon …”

  “Good luck, and send them all my love. I must go now, or I’m going to be late for work.” Hastily getting up from the table, Sophia turned as she neared the door. “Working late tonight, so not sure what time I’ll be back, let’s catch up later – if not, then breakfast tomorrow at 7.30 again? Okay?”

  “Deal!” smiled Mary, miffed that Sophia hadn’t been overjoyed about her news.

  Bugger, thought Sophia, what a nightmare; she was unconvinced that Mary would either slow things down, or break the news gently to her children.

  Back in her room, Mary phoned home and Kitty answered.

  Despite agreeing with Sophia’s words of advice, all that went straight out of the window as the thrill of being in love took over again.

  “Guess what darling, so exciting, I’ve met a new man!” she blurted out.

  “You’ve done what?” screeched Kitty in absolute horror. “Mum, what the fuck are you talking about?”

  “A gorgeous man called Oliver Harrison, tall dark and handsome, you’ll love him!”

  “Are you out of your fucking mind? You’ve only been there a couple of days!”

  “I know, isn’t it amazing – a real whirlwind romance!”

  “Whirlwind romance in under forty-eight hours, more like fucking supersonic! Are you on drugs, Mum? Where’s Sophia? Let me talk to her, she’s way more sensible.”

  “Not here, she’s on her way to work,” huffed Mary, adding sullenly, “and anyway, she’s probably not the best person for you to talk to about it.”

  “What do you mean, not the best person?”

  “We’ve just had a little chat over breakfast, and she doesn’t approve of me rushing into things with Ollie.”

  “I’m not bloody surprised!” yelled Kitty, and slammed the phone down.

  Immediately starting to cry, Kitty rang Sophia.

  “Mum’s just phoned,” sobbed Kitty, sniffing loudly.

  “Sweetheart, what is it, what’s wrong?”

  “She’s got a new man! Some bloke called Oliver Fucking Harrison!”

  Sophia groaned. “So I gather.”

  “She said you’re not thrilled about it either.”

  “Um, I told her I’m a bit concerned because it’s moving so fast, and suggested she should slow things down, not sure she appreciated my advice.”

  “What the fuck’s she thinking?” screeched Kitty.

  “Sweetheart, I don’t know, I’m trying my best to understand the situation too. But the whole thing’s a bit bizarre if you ask me, totally out of character, not like her at all. I honestly don’t know what to say …”

  “I think she’s losing her bloody mind.”

  “Listen, I’m going to meet her tonight, if not then tomorrow for breakfast. Let me have a proper chat with her, see if I can talk some sense into her. If she’s really serious about this bloke, then she needs to introduce him to you three. It’s vital you all approve before things go any further.”

  “She’s lost the fucking plot if you ask me.”

  “Kitty, try not to get too worked up about it, we’ll get to the bottom of it as soon as possible. Maybe don’t mention anything to Arthur and Titty for the time being, best not to worry them, what do you think?”

  “They know already. Heard me screaming at Mum before I slammed the phone down.”

  Pissed off that Kitty wasn’t best pleased about the news, Mary took it out on Robbie and hurled him from a distance into her basket. She placed the blame firmly on her daughter; it was in her genes, identical to Henry’s mother – bossy and opinionated, never one to take it lying down, with her paternal grandmother’s sharp tongue. Brushing it off as Kitty’s shortcomings, determined not to let it ruin her day, Mary grabbed her basket and hurried downstairs.

  The ditzy blonde manning reception looked up with a bright smile.

  “Good morning Mrs Pembroke,” she singsonged.

  “Good morning, Pernilla. Please could you order me a taxi to Marseille?”

  “At rank outside there are many,” she replied in her peculiar style.

  “Thank you,” replied Mary politely, heading for the revolving door.

  “Nearly forgot,” shouted Pernilla, “you have message, please call your daughter.”

  Glancing back over her shoulder without stopping, Mary called out loudly, “Kitty or Titty?”

  Pernilla stared back blankly, completely flummoxed, and said nothing.

  Mary sighed to herself and continued to beetle outside; she was well used to it, not the first time Tertia’s nickname had got lost in translation.

  Pernilla looked down at her paperwork shaking her head, at a loss for words that such a seemingly nice lady could shout such a rude word across the busy foyer – the eccentricity of some English people never ceased to amaze her.

  With the entire morning to herself, Mary chose to get dropped off at the Old Port, the city’s main focal point for two and a half millennia. After wandering quietly round the harbour looking at the boats, she settled at a café overlooking Norman Foster’s mirrored pavilion. A vast reflective stainless steel awning, crowded with tourists taking selfies, it was a perfect spot for people-watching. Still bristling about Kitty’s reaction Mary decided to call Arthur, always supportive and bound to be pleased for her. It rang and rang but no reply.

  The sunshine was glinting off the gold-leafed Madonna and Child on top of Notre-Dame de la Garde, Marseille’s most distinctive landmark on the south side of the Old Port. With a couple of hours to fill, Mary decided to be a typical tourist and visit the cathedral to admire the mosaic floors and elaborate decoration, briefly kneeling in front of the altar to say a quick prayer for her loved ones, and her new man.

  Contentedly pottering around the sights, her heart burst with joy, knowing she’d be seeing Oliver soon. She hummed her favourite song, relishing the sensation of being in love, and smiled at anyone who happened to catch her eye.

  Arriving slightly early at the restaurant, she sat at their table and waited for Oliver to arrive, when her phone rang with a call from her home number.

  “Mum, it’s Arthur.”

  “Darling, how are you? I’m so excited, did Kitty tell you my news?”

  “That’s why I’m ringing. She said you’re keen on some bloke you’ve only known for about two days, yeah?”

  “Yes darling, a real whirlwind romance. Who would have thought it?”

  “Listen up, Mum. The guy’s obviously a fucking dickhead, nobody gets serious that quickly. Kitty says it’s all gonna end in tears and I have to agree with her. Mum, you’ve gotta wake up, get real, and smell the coffee.”

  “But darling, he’s the most loving, kind and attentive man I’ve ever met …”

  “Don’t you dare disrespect Dad,” roared Arthur, before the line went dead.

  Stung by his parting comment, Mary groaned out loud. Kids, they just don’t understand! Why couldn’t they see how lucky she was to have a second chance? Didn’t they realise how fortunate she was to meet Ollie? Men like him don’t grow on trees. Why couldn’t they be happy for her, just for once, instead of always wanting it their own way?

  Falling in love had been making her glow, but the current criticism from her children was starting to take the lustre off it. As a mother she felt guilty about upsetting them, stuck between a rock and a hard place, and torn between Ollie and her children.

  Sitting hunched over in her chair, mindlessly nibbling the skin around her finger nails, she found herself guilt-ridden by Arthur’s final remark.

  “Who died?” joked Oliver, as he kissed the top of the head and sat down at the table.

  “Sorry?” So deep in thought, she hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

  “You look miserable. What’s wrong?”

/>   “Ugh, my kids – and Sophia! None of them are pleased about you and me.”

  “They’re just being silly, don’t give it a second thought.”

  “But why can’t they be happy for us?”

  “That’s life I’m afraid,” he said, reaching for her hand.

  “When I told them, Kitty slammed the phone down, Arthur too! Don’t know what Titty thinks, but sounds as though she’s not thrilled either. Sophia thinks things are moving too fast and we should put the brakes on. None of them have reacted in the way I assumed they would.”

  “They’ll come round, trust me, these things take time, that’s all.”

  Pulling herself together, Mary sat up straight and tried to be more positive.

  “You’re right, you're always right! Mr Harrison, I love you, you’re so good for me.”

  “I know!” His conceit going over her head. “Now to more important issues. Since we’re in Marseille, I think we should order some pastis as an aperitif, what do you think?” he enquired with a mischievous little grin.

  “You’re the boss,” she teased, content to let him make all the decisions.

  When they’d finished eating, pushing his plate away, Oliver settled in his chair and gazed adoringly at her.

  “I don’t want you to leave, Mary, I wish you could stay. I want us to be together forever.”

  “So do I,” she beamed, besotted and tingling all over.

  Chapter 10

  Taking a break at midday, Sophia walked down to the derelict swimming pool to make a call in private.

  “Titty, hi sweetheart, how’s things?” she enquired gently.

  “Not good,” mumbled Titty, “it’s gone mental since Mum phoned.”

  “Why, what’s happened?”

  “I didn’t speak to her, Arthur and Kitty did, said she’s gone bat shit crazy – both livid with her. Kitty’s threatening to chop off all her hair into a pixie cut, and Arthur’s gone to the pub to get blind drunk – I’m not speaking to him ever again.”

  “Why, sweetheart?”

  “He’s cruel and nasty and I hate him.”

  “Why, what’s he done?”

  “Barged into my room, nicked Mr Bojangles and swung him round by his tail!” wailed Titty, her voice breaking.

  Sophia was horrified. “Oh my god, is he all right?” she said, knowing how very important the little white mouse was to Titty.

  “Yeah, but I’m never talking to Arthur ever again.”

  “Is Kitty there, can I have a word with her?”

  “Gone to get her nails done.”

  “When she gets back, will you tell her I called?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  Shit, thought Sophia, it’s beginning to implode already.

  Bernard had just arrived on site, and was watching Sophia walk back towards the house with her head down.

  “You look a bit down in the dumps, everything all right?” he asked with genuine concern.

  “Truthfully, not really,” sighed Sophia.

  Bernard waved his hand towards the wooden bench under the wisteria.

  “Come and sit down for a minute, tell me what’s happened.”

  “It’s Mary. In a nutshell, she’s met a new man and thinks she’s in love after two days! She told her children on the phone this morning – to say it didn’t go down well with them would be an understatement! They’re all up in arms and starting to play up, I’m really worried about them – particularly Titty, who’s unstable at the best of times.”

  “Have you met this new man of Mary’s yet?”

  “No, not yet. Arranged to meet twice, but for different reasons it never materialised. Mary’s in complete denial about the damage this might do to her children, far too infatuated to be sensible. I’ve tried talking to her, but she’s not herself, deaf to any advice and barely communicating with her children.”

  Calmly brushing a cobweb off his trouser leg, always pragmatic, Bernard proceeded to offer some pearls of wisdom.

  “Then you’ll have to be the one to nip this in the bud.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Sophia, sounding panicky.

  “Fly them over.”

  “Mary’s children?”

  “Yes, as soon as you can, no time to waste. If they’re playing up, get them over here so they can spend time with their mother before things escalate. She needs to talk to them face to face; teenagers can be unpredictable at the best of times, reassure them.”

  “But it’s almost impossible to get hold of her at the moment, she’s not answering her phone.”

  “Then just go ahead and do it. Ask your office to book tickets for them on the next available flight. I’ll instruct my staff to open our private pool house and give it a quick once over before they arrive. It’s a swanky pad, done up like a small apartment, they’ll love it. Perfect for three teenagers, because they can be close to their mother, yet still have a modicum of freedom and independence. When you eventually speak to Mary, tell her the children’s accommodation is with my compliments and I won’t hear another word about it.”

  “Gosh, that’s kind, Bernard, thank you so much!” The relief showed all over her face. Bernard got up to go, placing his hand on her shoulder and looking down with a benign smile.

  “A problem shared is a problem halved,” he said sagely and patted her on the shoulder before wandering off.

  Before getting back to work Sophia tried Mary’s number one more time, but still no reply. Judging by what Titty had said on the phone, there was no time to waste. So Sophia called her secretary in London, and asked her to book flights for them using the passport details they still had on file from last year. She added that nobody should call Mary’s home number, as the children didn’t know about this yet. Sophia would update Mary later so she could tell them herself.

  Frantically rummaging in her basket again to be absolutely certain, Mary wailed, “I think I’ve lost my phone!”

  “When did you last have it?” asked Oliver, sounding faintly disinterested.

  “When I was waiting for you at lunchtime, Arthur called.”

  “I’ll ring the restaurant, ask if they’ve found it.”

  But no joy, no phone.

  Moving swiftly on, Oliver suggested brightly, “I thought we might do some sight-seeing this afternoon, then get a little snack somewhere this evening before I drop you back. How does that sound?”

  “Perfect,” beamed Mary, feeling blessed for every minute in his company.

  The rest of the day passed in a delirious whirl, and by the time he dropped her back at Hôtel d’Eau Bleue it was almost eleven o’clock at night.

  “Time flies when you’re enjoying yourself,” he quipped, tenderly holding her face in both hands and kissing her goodnight. He waited until she was safely inside the hotel before driving off.

  What a day, thought Sophia, glad to be back in her room, sitting down with a cup of tea and quietly reflecting. Thankfully things were going well on site, and she was especially grateful for Bernard’s advice too. Her office had already booked the children’s flights; she would tell Mary in the morning. For some reason Mary’s phone was still going straight to answerphone, so Sophia decided to wander along the corridor and slip a note under her door.

  Got some good news. See you at breakfast 7.30 X

  Chapter 11

  Sophia was up and dressed when the hotel phone rang on the bedside table. It was Mary sounding apologetic.

  “Hi, it’s me. So sorry about last night, are you still on for breakfast?”

  “Sure, in about half an hour?”

  “Perfect. By the way, if you’ve been trying to call me, I lost my phone yesterday.”

  “Oh no. When did you last have it?”

  “Lunchtime in a restaurant in Marseille. Oliver’s already called to ask if they’ve found it, but no joy. He’s going to search the floor of his car again, just in case, and leave me a message at reception if he finds it.”

  “You should let your kids know too, in case
they’re trying to call you.”

  “Good idea, I’ll phone them now.”

  Mary rang home, forgetting they were one hour ahead. The cleaner answered and said her husband had left ten minutes ago to go to the shops, taking the children with him. Apparently Kitty wanted to go back to the nail bar for something, Arthur wanted to get a new cover for his phone, and Titty needed some more mouse bedding from the pet shop.

  By the time Mary arrived Sophia was already half way through her breakfast. She waited until Mary had settled down with food and coffee, before bravely mentioning her disturbing conversation with Titty.

  “They’re not happy about Ollie,” concluded Mary through a mouthful of food, as though that explained everything.

  “That’s putting it lightly,” retorted Sophia. “Apparently Kitty’s threatening to chop off her hair, Arthur’s hellbent on getting sloshed at the pub and Titty’s fallen out with her brother and they’re not speaking.”

  Mary rolled her eyes. “I despair, but what am I supposed to do from here?”

  Sophia bit her tongue, irritated by Mary’s appalling attitude, and trying her best to remain calm and constructive.

  “Hope you don’t mind, but when I couldn’t get hold of you yesterday, I went ahead and made a plan.”

  “What sort of plan?” enquired Mary without interest, sipping her coffee.

  “To be honest, I’m really worried about your children playing up while you’re away. Don’t be cross with me, but I’ve booked tickets for them to fly out and join us.”

  “Sophia, you’re the best!” squealed Mary, as though she did suddenly care after all. “That's brilliant, when do they arrive?” Her face was noticeably more relaxed and genuinely pleased by the news. Sophia felt relieved that she’d obviously done the right thing after all.

  “Tuesday morning. The Maskells have a private pool house here at the hotel, done up like a small apartment. Bernard’s very kindly offered to make it available for the children to stay in. Said to tell you it’s with his compliments and he won’t hear another word.”