The Con

by L M Bee

  “Gosh, that’s kind of him.”

  “I just thought the children might be less likely to do something rash if you can talk to them face to face, and reassure them about Oliver.”

  “You’re such a good friend, thank you so much,” she said, beaming at Sophia, “and it’ll be so much easier to introduce them to Ollie whilst they’re here!”

  Not quite what I had in mind, thought Sophia, but hey ho, one step at a time.

  When she looked up, Mary was studying her expression.

  “You’re not thrilled about Ollie and me, are you? I can tell, it’s written all over your face.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes, we’re old friends, you of all people should be able to tell me the truth.”

  “Well, obviously I can’t object to someone that I haven’t even met yet, but I am deeply concerned about your children. This is a big thing for them. They’re all more than capable of doing something stupid, God forbid. I’m just trying to think of them, and make things easier for you all.”

  “What you really want to say is I’ve been a selfish cow and ignored them,” said Mary sheepishly.

  “Well yes, that too, if I can be brutally honest! You’ve been so swept up in your new romance, you’ve neglected to communicate with them or make sure they’re all right.”

  Looking down at her hands, Mary mumbled, “You’re right, I feel so ashamed.”

  Sophia sensed that the harsh reality of their conversation had brought Mary back down to earth with a bump and left her feeling guilty about being a bad mother.

  “No harm done yet,” chirped Sophia, “but they shouldn’t be excluded anymore.”

  Mary dropped her head in her hands, looking contrite.

  “Am I a bad mother?” she whimpered.

  “No. You’re a brilliant mother, you know you are, you’ve just been a bit distracted by this new man of yours.”

  Looking up, Mary begged, “Tell me honestly, what would you do in my shoes?”

  “Really?” replied Sophia, hesitant to give Mary a piece of her mind.

  “Yes.”

  Sophia took a deep breath, knowing this might be the only chance to say what she thinks.

  “I think you’re rushing into this relationship at breakneck speed, you hardly even know the guy!” She paused to look Mary in the eye, before venturing to ask the question that had been burning a hole in her brain. “Do you think he’s after your money?”

  Mary looked stunned, mouth agape, clearly shocked to the core. “Is that what you really think?” Her voice quavered.

  “Yes. I think you should be far more cautious and bear that in mind. Think how often one hears similar stories about wealthy widows falling for charming men; at the end of the day it always boils down to money. And let’s face it, you’re not short of a few quid now, Henry left you a bloody fortune. You’re rich, Mary, you’ll never have to worry about money ever again.”

  “I’ve never thought about it like that, how stupid of me,” she said, dropping her head back into her hands.

  Relieved to have got it off her chest, Sophia reminded her cheerfully, “Hey, no damage done – yet!”

  Mary lifted her head to look at Sophia. “You’re right, I’ve rushed headlong into this without protecting my children or their feelings. I can see I need to do some serious thinking about everything, but I genuinely don’t think Oliver’s after my money, I don’t see how he can be – he’s got no idea Henry left me well off because I’ve never told him.”

  “Can I make a suggestion, why don't you come to work with me today? Pretty rural surroundings, acres of land if you want to escape, it would do you good to spend some time in peace and quiet thinking things through. Or if you want something to do, we need a keen gardener to prune back the creepers that have grown over all the doorways. It would probably be quite therapeutic for you too, and as I said, give you time to think about your relationship with Oliver, how your children are feeling about it and where to go from here.”

  Mary beamed with gratitude. “Where would I be without you, my friend?”

  When Sophia pulled up at the farmhouse and they both got out of the car, Bernard looked briefly surprised before walking over to greet Mary warmly.

  “So pleased you’re here,” he said, “we could do with a spare pair of hands!”

  Bernard found Mary some secateurs and promptly set her to work pruning the overgrown creepers. She got stuck in straight away, and only stopped at midday because Bernard asked if she would accompany him into the local village to get some baguettes for everyone’s lunch.

  As they were driving along, Mary said, “I gather your eldest daughter and Sophia were at university together – what’s she doing nowadays?”

  “Happily married and living in Somerset. I’ve never known her so content – I’ll always be grateful to Sophia for guiding her back onto the straight and narrow all those years ago.”

  “Sophia's a good person – has always had her feet on the ground.”

  Bernard nodded in agreement, and then tentatively broached the subject of Oliver, keen to know more about this new man in Mary’s life.

  “Sophia tells me you’ve met someone since you’ve been here.”

  “Yes, a really nice Englishman called Oliver Harrison. Born and brought up in England, moved out here with his sister when they were in their twenties.”

  Mary was delighted to have the chance to chat about Oliver. Bernard looked interested and listened carefully to what Mary had to say; he was adept at making small talk and had perfected the art of sneaking in his own crucial questions. So it caught Mary off guard when he suddenly asked, “Do you think he’s after your money?”

  Like a red rag to a bull, his question instantly enraged Mary. How dare he suggest Oliver might be a gold digger! Instantly on the defensive, Mary batted back defiantly by outlining Oliver’s success as the owner of a flourishing property business, rattling off everything she knew about his entrepreneurial business ventures including the takeover of a small airfield nearby with an American tech billionaire.

  Having left Bernard in no doubt about Oliver’s integrity, or so she thought, Mary felt much better and spent the entire afternoon pruning to her heart’s content. Although she was totally unaware that Bernard intended to contact his good friend, the local Chief of Police, to run a check on the information.

  Mary spent the afternoon mulling things over in her mind whilst pruning, and realised Sophia had been right about one thing – it had been a good idea to get away from everything and reflect on things quietly by herself. She’d started the day having second thoughts about her relationship with Ollie; after the ruthlessly honest chat with Sophia over breakfast, her enthusiasm felt dented. But after Bernard had had the gall to ask if Ollie was after her money, the chance to let off steam and give him both barrels had had a beneficial effect. Everything was crystal clear to her now – Oliver Harrison was the best thing to ever happen to her; she was determined to grasp this opportunity with both hands and spent the latter part of the afternoon envisaging their lives blending together.

  After a long and productive day on site, Sophia drove them both back to the hotel, and Mary stopped briefly at reception to report her missing phone.

  As they were going up in the lift, Sophia sounded unenthusiastic as she asked, “Do you want to go out for supper tonight?”

  After an entire day working in the garden, Mary felt grubby and wanted a good soak to get the dirt out of her fingernails. “To be honest, if you don’t mind, I fancy a hot bath after all that pruning. Something to eat from room service will do me fine, and an early night, is that very boring?”

  “No, not at all, I’m more than happy to do the same,” replied Sophia, sounding relieved. “I’ll pop round to your room later with a copy of the children’s itinerary, so you can let them know their flight details. See you later.”

  Sophia waved and wandered off to her room.

  Pressing the Pembrokes’ home number, Sophia was relieved
to hear Tertia’s timid little voice answer the phone.

  “Hello sweetheart, how are you?” she enquired gently.

  “All right, sort of – Mr Bojangles is off his food.”

  Christ, thought Sophia, having completely forgotten about him. Can white mice fly British Airways?

  “Maybe he needs a holiday,” suggested Sophia, trying not to let the panic show in her voice. “Have you ever taken him on a plane before?”

  “Yeah, loads of times, he’s fine.”

  “Do you need special permission to take him on a commercial flight?”

  “Why so many questions?” queried Titty.

  “Oh, just curious, sweetheart …”

  Fuck, thought Sophia, not sure how to overcome this major obstacle; she would have to ask Mary or Bernard for advice later. How does one get authorisation for a little white mouse to fly on a plane? She was kicking herself that she’d stupidly forgotten to think about Mr Bojangles accompanying Titty everywhere. She was aware that emotional support dogs were now fairly common on most flights, a simple arrangement as long as the required paperwork was submitted forty-eight hours before take off, but rodents were probably a completely different story. Her sixth sense already warned her that most passengers would doubtless object to sharing cabin space with a mouse, even Mr Bojangles.

  Sophia appeared at Mary’s door, wearing a hotel bathrobe and carrying two large mugs of hot chocolate.

  “Snap!” laughed Mary at their matching attire as she opened the door.

  “Thought we deserved a treat!” said Sophia, nodding at the mugs in both hands.

  “Ooh lovely,” cooed Mary, standing back to let her in.

  “Have you rung home yet?” enquired Sophia.

  “Yes, long chats. Spent over an hour talking to them all one by one, thank goodness they’ve calmed down now. You were right, they have a problem with Oliver. None of them want me to have a new man, which from their point of view is understandable, but tricky to manage when they’re here next week – I was hoping to introduce them to him. Anyway, Kitty’s promised not to cut off her long blonde locks, apparently that was just an empty threat. Arthur’s given me his word he’ll stop getting drunk in the pub, even admitted he hates hangovers so much, he’s thinking of becoming teetotal!”

  “And Titty?”

  “Arthur and Titty have made up, and are back on speaking terms again. Arthur has apologised, and bought Mr Bojangles a new water bottle from the pet shop to say sorry. Thankfully everything’s back to normal – if my children can ever be described as normal!” laughed Mary.

  Dressed like twins, the two friends got comfy side by side on Mary’s duvet, cradling their hot chocolates. Sophia reached into the pocket of her dressing gown and pulled out some folded sheets of paper.

  “Here’s a print out of the itinerary for you. Only one teeny weeny little problem – Mr Bojangles. We haven’t got authorisation yet for him to fly as an emotional support animal.”

  “Rodents don’t qualify as emotional support animals,” stated Mary. “Mice are strictly forbidden on all commercial flights.”

  “Christ, what the hell are we supposed to do now?” panicked Sophia, looking desperately at Mary for the answer.

  She put her finger up to her lips. “Shhh! Don’t tell a soul, Titty’s smuggled him on loads of flights already! Gives him a little drop of special stuff from the vet, which makes him groggy, tucks him into her bra and he snoozes peacefully for the entire journey.”

  “Seriously?” howled Sophia.

  “Yup, it’s the only way. Titty would have a major panic attack if she had to fly without him, but they’re both fine with this tried and trusted method. Mr Bojangles sleeps like a dormouse, blissfully unaware of anything, so Titty’s happy too – a win-win situation!”

  “Apart from breaking the law!” squawked Sophia in horror.

  “Yes, admittedly there’s that, but they have to catch her first, we’ll worry about it when they do. There’s literally no other solution that I can think of!”

  Chapter 12

  Mary was brushing her teeth when the hotel phone rang in the bedroom, and rushed through to answer it.

  “Good morning, beautiful, just wondering if you’ve found your phone yet?”

  Swallowing toothpaste and wiping her mouth on a towel, she replied, “No, no luck yet.”

  “I’m in the office so can’t chat for long, there’s someone waiting to see me, but I can escape later if you would like to do something together?”

  “Ooh yes, that would be lovely.”

  “Okay, I’ll pick you up from your hotel at about 2pm.”

  Mary breezed downstairs to meet Sophia, delighted to have a plan for the day that meant spending more time with Ollie.

  “Saturday, and you're dressed for work?” queried Mary, scowling at Sophia.

  “Yes, since I’ve got Tuesday off to run you to the airport, thought I should make the effort to put in some extra hours. What are you up to today?”

  “Oh, a bit of sunbathing and swimming this morning, and then a bit of shopping with Ollie this afternoon.”

  “It’s a hard life,” teased Sophia.

  When Oliver arrived to collect Mary, he handed her a present neatly wrapped with a big red satin bow round it.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Look inside and you’ll find out,” he replied.

  Untying the ribbon and ripping off the paper, Mary lifted the lid off a small white Apple box containing the latest model of iPhone in rose gold.

  “Heavens, how generous. For me?”

  “Yes. Hated not being able to reach you yesterday. Made me worry that you might be getting cold feet or trying to avoid me.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” giggled Mary.

  “Well, now I can reach you every minute of every day. It’s fully charged and ready to use.”

  Mary leant across and gave him a great big kiss. “You’re too kind to me.”

  “I know,” he smirked.

  She took the phone out of its box, and called her children at home to give them the new number. They were all in fairly good moods, thank goodness, and excited about flying out to France on Tuesday. Getting slightly carried away, Mary squealed with excitement, “I can’t wait for you to meet Ollie,” which was met by a deadly silence from Kitty.

  Oliver spent most of the afternoon on his phone, parked outside the shops, whilst Mary nipped in and out in search of sundresses. She also managed to find a couple of little presents for the children; all in all a very successful shopping trip.

  At the end of the afternoon, Ollie dropped her back at the hotel and opened the boot of the car to get the bags out.

  “I’ll give you a hand up with these,” he offered, heaving them out and carrying them up to her room, dumping the bags in a pile on the bed and kissing her before hurrying back to the office for a conference call. Mary closed the door behind him, and started to unpack the carrier bags when there was a knock on the door.

  “Forget something?” she called as she opened the door, surprised to see Sophia standing there. “Oh, I thought you were Ollie, he only left ten seconds ago – you must have literally passed each other in the corridor!”

  “I can’t believe I’ve missed him for a third time!” exclaimed Sophia. “Just wondering if you’ve got any plans for supper tonight. I thought we could walk down to the beach and over the rocks to that little place you went to for lunch with Oliver.”

  “Brilliant idea. Have I got time to shower and change into one of my new dresses?”

  “Sure, no problem. Haven’t booked, we’ll just have to chance our luck. I’ll come back in an hour and we can wander over there together.”

  As they arrived, the portly restaurateur waddled towards them holding out his podgy hand to greet them. Sophia noticed immediately he showed no recollection of ever having met Mary before, but she didn’t appear to notice. Being a Saturday night, there was live music playing outside – a young girl with an angelic singin
g voice and her Catalan guitarist.

  During the meal Sophia received a text from Bernard, asking her to call him as soon as she could. She tapped out a quick reply, Call you in an hour when back in my room.

  “Hi Bernard, it’s Sophia.”

  “Thanks for calling back. How was Mary this evening?”

  “Still full of it, head over heels in love with Mr Harrison.”

  “And you?” asked Bernard, getting straight to the point. “Dare I ask, what do you think about it all?”

  “Between you and me, I’m worried sick, can't put my finger on it but something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Relieved to hear you say that, makes what I’m about to tell you slightly easier. Yesterday when Mary and I were in the car, going to get the baguettes, we chatted about him. Long story short, I smelt a rat, and decided to consult my good friend Bruno de Berger, the local Chief of Police.”

  Sophia gasped. “So you're suspicious too?”

  “Wouldn’t be fair to say I’m suspicious of someone I haven’t even met, but my antenna went up when Mary was talking about him taking over the local airfield. I knew when she said it, simply not possible, the airfield’s owned by a Swiss investment company and I know for a fact they’ve got no intention of selling. Bruno de Berger has had communications with them over the years, so it was simple for him to make contact and ask for verification – Harrison’s lying!”

  “Oh my god,” exclaimed Sophia, shocked but not surprised.

  “Do you think you can get a photograph of him from Mary, and forward it to me so I can send it to Bruno de Berger?”

  “Got one already on my phone, I’ll ping it across to you now. Photograph of the two of them standing together against the mossy fountain in Aix, taken a couple of days ago.”

  “Excellent. I’ll ask Bruno if he’ll very kindly run an ID check on the bloke for us. Might take a day or two, especially as he’ll be doing it for me as a favour – but then at least we’ll know who we’re dealing with.”

  “Whilst we’re on the subject,” added Sophia, “I’m convinced Oliver Harrison’s up to something devious, don’t trust him further than I can spit. For instance, Mary lost her phone yesterday when she was out with him, and today he gives her a brand new iPhone all set up and ready to go – why?”