by Jason Ayres
During their week in Marbella he had been moody and miserable throughout, doubtless because he was missing his whore of a girlfriend. No wonder he had spent so much of that week pissing about on his phone – he was probably messaging her the whole time.
He had pleaded poverty throughout that week in Marbella, constantly moaning about the crap exchange rate since Brexit. On the first night he had informed her that he was setting them a budget for their main evening meal of thirty euros per night.
He was incredibly mean about how he enforced it, too. One night they had dined at a nice little restaurant by the harbour. Perusing the menu, he had decided he wanted to treat himself to a fillet steak, the most expensive item on the menu at twenty-two euros. He then informed her that in order to stay within their budget, she was not allowed to spend more than eight euros on her main. So she had ended up having an omelette.
That was just one example of his tightness. He was forever badgering her about saving money on the shopping and wouldn’t let her shop in any supermarket other than the chain he worked at, even though she much preferred Sainsbury’s. He said it was financial madness to shop anyone else when they could take advantage of his staff discount.
His controlling nature often extended to coming along on the weekly shop, making her pick cheap brands and reduced items on things she wanted to buy. He even made her buy the supermarket’s own-brand tampons, rather than the brand she preferred, claiming they were just as good. As if he would know.
When they got to the booze aisle he would then proceed to pick himself out a couple of £10 bottles of red wine, which he would claim was a treat. This was of no benefit to Kay as she only drank white wine, and he never let her have a decent bottle of that, even at Christmas. She got a couple of bottles of cheap German Riesling if she was lucky.
As she thought about all this now, a particularly offensive word beginning with “c” came to mind which Kay despised and never uttered. But if anyone ever deserved to be called one, it was Alan.
Going through the hotel bills, she discovered that less than a week after they had returned from Spain, he had spent £769 on two nights in a hotel in London. That was one she was definitely going to have to commit to memory for future use. There were many similar bills.
For the next few minutes, she worked at memorising the dates and locations of several of these hotel stays. The information could come in very useful later on. But what she had was not enough. She needed more – much more.
Chapter Fourteen
February 2018
Alan’s regular bank statements did not yield anything untoward. It seemed that he kept his extravagant gestures purely on his credit card, but she did notice something unusual. There were no signs of any payments to the credit card company coming out of his regular current account. But on the credit card she could see that, despite him running up thousands every month, it was regularly being paid off in full.
The question was, where had he been getting the money from to pay it? He earned a good salary from his high-flying retail job, but there was no way it was enough to cover the sorts of sums he was splashing around, and he wasn’t using his wages for that anyway. The answer had to be here somewhere and Kay was determined to find it.
She delved further into the folder, and soon found what she was looking for. Tucked away at the back of his regular bank statements were some additional statements from a bank, the name of which she was unfamiliar with. The logo, however, did ring a bell in her head. It was a picture of a tiger with a mountain in the background. Where had she seen that image before?
Two things leapt out at her from the statement. Firstly, that the address of the bank was in Switzerland. Banks in that country had a reputation for being safe havens where people could salt away money they wanted to hide.
Secondly, the balance on the account was over €300,000.
She was astounded. How had he acquired such a sum? She scanned through the statements. There were several credits over the past two years going through to the account, all from the same source and all for roughly the same amount, approximately €50,000 each time. She could also see that it was from this account that he had been paying his credit card bills.
All of the payments into the account were from a name she recognised. It was a major wine producer in France, one that she knew her husband dealt with. In fact, he had negotiated a major multimillion pound deal with the company only a year or two before.
Kay thought back to the rumours that had been circulating around her husband’s employers. A series of poor results had led to accusations of financial mismanagement in the City as the share price had plummeted.
Could it be that the mismanagement stretched to fraud? It was pretty obvious to Kay what was going on here. He had negotiated a favourable deal for the supplier and they were giving him backhanders in return. What’s more, it seemed like he was getting away with it. With nothing going through his company’s books, there would be no trail of money leading back to him.
It was only February now. A further ten months had passed since then, and as far as she knew, he was still securely in his job, despite the internal investigations going on. But then he was a senior manager. She knew that years before he was always pulling little stunts to fiddle on expenses here and there. He had said at the time that, as he was a senior and respected manager, no one would ever dare question him, and besides, it was all perks of the job.
It looked as if his dishonesty had now spread way beyond a few inflated mileage claims now. He was on the fiddle in a big way, without a doubt, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Lucy was in on it as well. She worked in the accounts department, just as Kay had years ago, and she remembered how he used to get her to push things through that others might have red-flagged.
The bank statement contained both the sort code and the account number of his bank in Switzerland. Looking at the picture of the tiger again, she suddenly remembered where she had seen it before. It had been earlier this morning when she was rummaging through the mess in his drawer.
She crossed back over to the desk and opened the drawer again. Inside was a small, black, plastic device with an LCD strip on it, no bigger than a credit card. She had originally mistaken it for a calculator, but when she remembered that the logo on it matched the one on the bank statement, she realised what it must be.
Quickly she turned her attention back to the laptop and flicked through his bookmarks. Finding a link to the bank, she clicked on it, taking her straight to the login screen for online banking. She was pleased to see that the online banking ID, different from the account number on the statement, was already waiting in the login box for her.
Allowing his web browser to remember all his IDs and passwords so he didn’t have to fill them in each time was yet another example of lax security. He really was handing all of this to her on a plate.
She clicked logon, wondering if she could get through security as she had before. Two security questions came up. The first asked for the name of his favourite sports team. That was easy. He was always banging on about Chelsea which all went straight over Kay’s head. She was not remotely interested in football, preferring motor sports, something that Alan had dismissed as “sad tossers driving around in circles”.
The second was that old favourite, his mother’s maiden name. She knew that, too, because his parents had got divorced not long after Kay and Alan had got married. At the time, his mother had made a big thing of going back to her maiden name, insisting it be prefixed with ‘Ms’.
The final hurdle was using the security key. She had something similar for her own bank and knew she would have to put a passcode into it. She switched it on and found it was asking her for a six-digit code. He couldn’t have been stupid enough to use his date of birth again, could he? She typed in 251064.
It worked – he really had been that stupid. All she had to do now was type in the new code which had flashed up on the device.
It was as simple as that and now sh
e was sitting there in front of her husband’s illicit account, looking at over €300,000, which by her calculations must amount to at least a quarter of a million pounds. And this was ten months ago. How much more had he added since?
What should she do now? She could steal the money. Why not? She was in Universe 2.0. What was the worst that could happen? It would be worth doing it, just to see if she could get away with it without any consequences. If all went smoothly, she could do it all again once she got back into the real world. Yes, this was a good idea. She would have a consequence-free dress rehearsal.
She clicked on the button marked “Make a payment” and then filled in the section marked “Create a payee”. She put in her own name and current account details. Then she entered the entire balance as the amount.
Just before she hit send, an amusing thought occurred to her. While she was here, she may as well have a little fun and make the Alan of this universe squirm. She would derive a lot of satisfaction out of that.
She reduced the amount in the transfer box by eight euros, which would leave that as the remaining balance on the account. She chuckled as she did so, looking forward to telling him exactly why she had left him with that exact amount. Then she hit send, wondering if such a huge transaction would go through undetected.
It went through without a hitch and a confirmation appeared on the screen. Kay was amazed. Were amounts that large not questioned when they were moved around? She was sure they would be in England. Perhaps that was not the case with Swiss bank accounts. There were all sorts of rich, not to mention corrupt, people using them to move around millions. Her six-figure sum probably wasn’t enough to even bat an electronic eyelid.
The next thing to check was whether or not it had reached her account safely. Logging onto her own online banking through her mobile phone, she was delighted to see the full amount sitting in her current account. Mission accomplished!
Relaxing for a moment, she felt a rumble in her stomach as her brain informed her she was hungry. Checking her watch, she discovered it was already past lunchtime. She had been at this for over three hours and she needed to eat. But before that she needed to memorise as much as possible of what she had seen if she was going to be able to use this information again in the future.
She began with the Swiss bank account. It had a five-digit sort code and a twelve-digit account number. Over and over she spoke them out loud, as well as writing them down twenty times on a piece of paper. She remembered being told at school that this helped permanently etch a number into one’s brain.
Next she memorised the dates of the transactions from the wine company into the account. She would need this information for what she had in mind. It was essential if Alan was to believe she knew everything when she came to confront him over it.
Satisfied she had done all she could, she left his office, not bothering to cover her tracks behind her. There was no need. She headed downstairs, made herself a quick sandwich, then pulled on her coat and headed into town.
She stopped at the cashpoint, drew out as much cash as she could and then, on a whim, made for the taxi rank. When she asked the taxi driver to take her to London, he couldn’t believe his luck. Such fares didn’t come up too often, she imagined.
The taxi cost her £150 and he insisted on payment in advance, but she wasn’t bothered about the cost. She had achieved what she had come here to do today, and didn’t intend hanging around the house watching Bridget Jones’s Diary like she had first time round on Valentine’s Day. She was going to live the life of Riley instead.
While she was in the taxi, she took great pleasure in texting Alan:
You might want to check the balance of your secret account. Don’t worry, it hasn’t all gone. There’s enough left for you to get yourself an omelette next time you’re in Marbella.
A few minutes later, her phone rang and his name flashed up. She could have answered, but found it more satisfying to simply press reject instead. Shortly after that she got a notification that had received a voicemail. She ignored that as well. Then the texts started coming, first anger, then pleading and bargaining. At this point she switched her phone off. Let him sweat.
In London she headed straight for Oxford Street where she blew several hundred on a complete outfit for the evening. Then she headed for a swanky hotel in Mayfair. Paying for their best room upfront and leaving her credit card at reception, she pretty much had carte blanche to spend what she liked.
She took full advantage of the hotel’s spa and beauty facilities. She had a massage from a very fit, young man, then a full makeover and a hairdo. By the evening, when she was ready to go out, she looked amazing, as she admired herself in the full-length red dress she had bought earlier. It also helped that, at this time, she still had all her own teeth.
Kay knew that finding a restaurant to eat at on Valentine’s Day would be difficult, so she had an early dinner at the hotel and then headed out to Covent Garden. It was a place she had loved going to with friends in her youth, but had not had the chance to visit since getting married.
It was just as vibrant and exciting as she remembered, and she was free to enjoy it as she pleased. It was quite mild for a February evening, and she did not feel in the slightest bit cold, even with only the light jacket she was wearing over her dress.
She was surrounded by people enjoying themselves as she walked through the streets, revelling in the atmosphere. Finding a lively bar, she ordered herself a White Russian and sat down at the bar, feeling confident and happy. It was amazing what difference a change of scene and a little pampering could do. She was unrecognisable from the bedraggled hag who would be frequenting The Red Lion just a few months later.
All evening, men came over to chat her up. They were not sad desperadoes like those she had taken home to her flat for joyless sex these past months, but well-groomed, intelligent, professional men.
This all showed that she still had it. The attention was a massive ego booster for Kay. It had been one thing revelling in the joy of two days back in her teenage body, but here she was, in her forties, and she could still be a hot prospect if she put her mind to it. All she had to do in the future was look after herself properly and she could have a new lease of life. A new set of teeth would also come in handy. With the money that would hopefully be coming her way, that would be her first priority.
Late in the evening, she met a man she felt a real affinity with. He was around her age and when they got chatting, she discovered he was local to where she lived. His name was Robert and he worked as a designer for a Grand Prix team based not far from Oxford. He was down in London for the official launch of his team’s new car for the forthcoming season.
Kay was a lifelong fan of Formula One, so they had plenty to talk about. She was able to make very encouraging noises about his team’s prospects for the year ahead, knowing already that they were going to win both the driver’s and constructor’s championships.
She enjoyed his company more than she had any man’s for a long time, with the possible exception of Kent. She knew that it could go no further, at least in this universe, but that didn’t rule out the possibility of seeing him again when she made it back to her own.
Having made a solid investment in her financial future today, maybe here was a chance to make an investment of a personal nature. She needed to find out as much as she could about him, so she could look him up again in the future. He wouldn’t remember this meeting, but she was sure she could engineer another encounter.
By the end of the evening she knew where he worked, where he lived, and where he liked to spend his free time. There was a slight element of stalking behaviour about what she was doing, but it could be forgiven under the circumstances.
As far as tonight went, she had an ideal opportunity to take him for a test-drive. Turning the conversation to personal matters, she made sure she asked him enough questions to ensure that he wasn’t married. She wasn’t making that mistake again. But when she asked him if he wou
ld like to come back to her hotel, she was in for a surprise.
He politely declined the offer. That hadn’t been something she had been expecting. He explained he would prefer to get to know her better first and asked if they could meet up for a dinner date once they were back in Oxford.
He wasn’t just brushing her off; she could see how keen he was to see her again. Perhaps for once, she had found herself a decent man. It made a refreshing change, as there didn’t seem to be many like him around these days.
Being a gentleman, he escorted her back to her hotel and kissed her goodnight at the door, with a promise that they would see each other again soon. For this Robert, sadly, it would never happen. From Kay’s perspective, all she had to hope now was that the version of him in her own universe would still be available ten months later. He was a pretty decent catch and it would be no surprise if he got snapped up in the interim.
Content with her day’s work, she drifted off to sleep in the luxurious surroundings of her penthouse suite, looking forward to the next day. If all went as planned, it was going to be a day to savour.
Chapter Fifteen
December 2018
It was Christmas Eve, and Kay was back in front of the mirror, discussing her latest trip with the angel.
“I’m impressed,” said the angel. “You’ve made excellent use of your time there in a way very few people doing this ever have. If I were a teacher I’d be giving you an A+. Now I’m looking forward to seeing how you use the knowledge you’ve gained.”
“Well, keep watching,” replied Kay. “But haven’t you already delved into my thoughts to see what’s on the cards?”
“I don’t read every thought,” replied the angel. “If I did that, it would be like watching a football match when I already knew the result. I could just as easily nip into the future to see what you do next, but haven’t done that either. I find this all a lot more entertaining if I avoid spoilers.”