The Unsuspecting Housewife

by Olivia Charles

  Terry began to phone frequently, yet blatantly ignored his inexcusable behaviour or his unpaid debt. They were at an impasse where he would not pay and she would not see him or marry him. She chose to grit her teeth and be friendly as she knew that if she tried to take him to court, she would now have to raise the funds to attack him through an expensive Spanish court system. Both of them knew she did not have that kind of money but he did. In utter desperation she confided in her solicitor friend Rob, who sent her a fellow partner within the firm. He advised her that there was no legal action she could take against Terry in the UK but told her that there were other unconventional methods to obtain money from someone who had fled to the Costa del Sol. He advised Henrietta to keep communications open with Terry and hope he chose to pay her in his own time. She was both furious and frustrated by her dilemma but tried unsuccessfully to write off the debt, as yet again she found herself with a mortgage, albeit small, but with no income.

  March 2008.

  By springtime Henrietta acknowledged that despite having sold her Spanish property, Terry’s theft and ignorance were at financial odds with her own commitment to Oscar’s school fees and her mortgage which meant that she had to sell the Rectory and down-size to a home where she could be entirely debt free again. She put the property on the market and was inundated with viewers and could choose her purchaser and the price to be paid. Things were not all bad and before all the upheaval and hard work, she looked forward to the Easter holidays with Oscar who was coming home to spend two weeks with his Mum and she intended to spoil him.

  After the fun was over and the gut wrenching task of putting her son on a plane back to school was done, she mooched around the house in a listless state not wanting to get dressed, cook or socialise. Then one morning everything changed when Henrietta received a puzzling letter from the Nat West Bank in the Isle of Man explaining that the payments for her International Mortgage had increased to £12,032 per month and as she had not yet paid the second quarters payment on the first of the month as arranged, the amount outstanding for the quarter was now £36,064. She laughed out loud and threw it in the bin. Not only was it completely insane that she had received a letter from a bank she didn’t use but also that anyone would have a mortgage for such a gargantuan sum. ‘If only’ she thought but over the next few weeks she received more of the same perplexing demands.

  She decided to phone the number on the bottom of the letter to complain, whilst also suspecting that it could be a scam to make her phone a premium number designed to relieve the unsuspecting caller of exorbitant connection charges. She was therefore surprised to find that the phone number she called was answered by a polite and credible customer service advisor:

  “Good morning, Nat West International Banking, mortgage section. How may I help you?”

  “Hello, for some unknown reason I have been receiving ridiculous mortgage demands from you. Please can you help sort this problem out?”

  “Of course madam, do you have the request to hand? If so could you read the twelve digit customer reference from the top right hand corner beginning with a letter N or E?”

  Henrietta read out the number so as to be of help in resolving the unfortunate mix up.

  “Thank you. Am I speaking to Mrs Henrietta Champion?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “I apologise Madam but the confusion is no doubt due to the new interest rate on your Spanish mortgage which has gone up marginally for this quarter. You should have received a letter from us about the revision in the interest rate.”

  “What Spanish property is the loan for?”

  “I’m sorry madam, I didn’t realise you have more than one. This is for the villa Almando in Sotogrande, Cadiz.”

  “Oh, what address have these letters been going to?”

  “To the villa Almando as requested in your e-mails, but when we received no response, we presumed you must be at your UK address, which we also have on our records.”

  “Oh dear, there is someone at my door, can I call back later?”

  “No problem madam, have a pleasant day.”

  Henrietta sat for an age trying to process the preposterous phone conversation she had just had with the polite woman off shore somewhere. The address she had quoted wasn’t her old Spanish address and they couldn’t have confused her with Terry or with his property which was also not called Villa Almando either. As for e-mailing the bank, she had never sent an e-mail in her life, as she had no interest in modern technology beyond a mobile phone. After a mug of strong coffee and two custard creams she gave up on finding a solution herself and phoned Jill’s solicitor whom she had consulted after the debacle with Terry at Christmas. She recanted the entire story to Clive and asked him to make enquiries on her behalf.

  Later that afternoon she answered the phone to the obviously perplexed solicitor.

  “Hello Clive, how have you got on? What on earth was all that nonsense all about?”

  “I’ve spoken to the Nat West and was passed to a supervisor by the name of Jillian Howarth who confirmed that there is indeed a mortgage in your name on a property in Sotogrande, Spain. Apparently the loan outstanding is for more than two and a half million euros. That can’t be right can it?”

  “What? I know Terry Newman bought a big villa there when he sold his business last year but that isn’t his address and he didn’t buy one at that price. The property I had is now sold, so I’m very confused. I don’t have a Spanish mortgage. Should I speak to Terry and see if he can shed any light on this?”

  “No, don’t, I’m inclined to go over there with you, appoint Spanish lawyers on your behalf and let them investigate as this is potentially very serious, what do you think?”

  “I think I would be very grateful.” Then she promised to book flights as soon as he could clear his diary and they could have two days in Spain at Henrietta’s expense to get some much needed answers.

  April 2008.

  As Hetty made a mid-morning coffee, she received the first of two phone calls:

  “Hello, Henrietta, my name is Imogen, Josh’s mum, Oscar’s friend from Sotogrande School. We haven’t met yet, but I hope we will do soon. I hope you don’t mind that I asked Oscar for your phone number?” Henrietta returned the pleasantries before Imogen continued: “I don’t want to offend you but wondered if you knew that a man named Terry has started to take Oscar out of school at the weekends to wash pots in his restaurant until the early hours and then makes him cycle home in the dark. From what Oscar has told me about you, this doesn’t seem like the sort of thing you would sanction. I also think Oscar is frightened of him.” Imogen stopped talking when she heard Henrietta gasp.

  “I did not know, Oscar has not said anything, nor has the school. I am shocked and upset but I am very grateful to you for making this awkward phone call.”

  “Well I told Oscar to speak with his housemaster about all this last night. I expect the school will phone you too but I wanted to tell you that my husband and I will do anything to help.”

  “Actually, I am planning on coming over there very soon and I will sort this out. I would also like to meet you and thank you personally.”

  “Oscar is always welcome here with us, anytime. See you soon.” Henrietta thanked her new friend and said goodbye.

  She stomped around the house squeezing the phone in her hand as if it were Terry’s neck and swore out loud at the nerve of the man, to use her son as slave labour! She tried to calm herself and make mental notes before she called the school headmaster, but then the phone rang again:

  “Mrs Champion? This is Oscar’s Housemaster; Duncan. Can you talk?” Henrietta told him that she had just received an enlightening call from Josh’s mother and was still in shock.

  “Yes, I have been troubled by Oscar’s weekend arrangement with your partner Mr Newman. Oscar has repeatedly asked me to show him martial arts moves to disarm an attacker. Initially, I put it all down to typical boyhood antics, especially as the boys know I was once in the force
s. However last night when he returned from exeat he told me what has been going on. I am very sorry that this did not come to my attention sooner. I have spoken with the school headmaster and have been instructed to give Oscar personal protection. I think he needs it.” He waited for a response from Henrietta.

  “I am horrified. I don’t know what to do. I intend to come over there in a few days, but I will come today if he needs me.” Henrietta’s voice faltered and Duncan empathised.

  “No, Mrs Champion, please give me a chance to gain Oscar’s trust. You and I can speak by phone if we have any concerns. Meanwhile I can assure you that Oscar will have a bodyguard 24hrs a day. I am sure you have noticed the obvious armed guard at our school gates? He is a deterrent, as the close proximity of our school to Gibraltar and the high net worth of many of our students, means it is an unavoidable necessity. However that measure of general security can be supplemented by individual protection and some students have their own personal bodyguards. Unbeknown to the pupils, I am also trained in that kind of protection and have worked for many years in the private sector before I came here with my wife to take life at an easier pace. I trust this information can stay between us, as my cover affords me a greater level of observation and trust, which must not be compromised.”

  “Absolutely! I am so grateful to you and to Headmaster. How do I pay for this protection?”

  “The fees are Headmasters remit, not mine but I will not let Oscar out of my sight from now on and I will not allow him to leave the school premises without your authority.”

  Henrietta processed the events and conversations of the day, then rang Clive and told him about the sudden urgency to get over to Spain as soon as possible.

  May 3rd 2008.

  Henrietta sprang into action with boxes and bobble wrap and employed her customary removal company to collect all her furniture and possessions take everything into storage except for a suitcase full of clothes which she took to her mothers and another case full of summer clothes which she put in the boot of her car. She went and signed an undated contract at Rob’s office, for the imminent completion of the rectory and entrusted him with two sets of house keys and the code for the alarm. She then drove to the Goode’s family house and Clive drove them to the airport in his car.

  They flew by easy jet into Malaga airport, hired a small Fiat from Hertz and drove to a large hotel in Puerto Banus where they checked in for the night, left their luggage in their respective rooms and set off down the autopista for Sotogrande. First, Henrietta showed him Terry’s villa which seemed quiet at 7pm, then asked Clive to take her directly to the International School. As Clive drove the little car, Henrietta phoned Oscar on his mobile, told him that she had come to see him as a surprise, to inform his housemaster of her visit and to meet her at the school gates.

  Oscar was indeed surprised to see his mother and asked what had brought about such a spur of the moment visit as it had not been long since they had spent Easter together. Henrietta introduced Oscar to Clive through the blue school railings and explained that they intended to break into Terry’s villa and find out about his business and finances. She was shocked that Oscar was able to offer a remote control to Terry’s garage but was appalled to hear Oscar confirm that Terry was using him as cheap labour. Oscar also said that a newspaper company had been invited to cover the official opening of Terry’s restaurant the following night. Clive advised the youth to reject all calls from the man and to inform his housemaster if he contacted him in any way. He also promised Oscar that he would take care of his mother and would act as trustee for the boy in any financial issues. Henrietta took the remote from Oscar, then kissed her son through the railings and left with Clive.

  The detective duo decided that they should check out Terry’s restaurant and drove down to the port and through the security barriers.

  “There, Salvatori’s, that must be it!” Henrietta exclaimed. Clive parked the little car out of sight, gave her the keys and told her to lock herself inside the vehicle whilst he went into the restaurant. He sat at the bar and ordered a San Miguel lager which he sipped and relished as he looked around and observed a tanned bald man fitting the description given by Hetty. Terry was busy giving orders to waiting staff before the evening rush of diners and then went to sit at a table on the terrace with a loquacious blonde woman in her forties.

  “Is he the owner?” Clive asked one of the waiters who confirmed that he was ‘Don Terencio, having dinner with his fiancée.’ Clive finished his beer, paid and left. When he got back to the car he reported what he had seen and said that Terry would be busy for some time, so the coast was clear for them to go back to the villa. Clive couldn’t help passing comment:

  “The restaurant looks very smart and smells great but there are huge canvasses on the walls of the Godfather and the waiter called him Don Terry something. What’s all that about?”

  “No idea but he is fascinated by the Mafia thing and is probably having a mid-life crisis.”

  They parked the car on the road outside the villa, then opened the large ornate gates with the remote control and walked briskly down the driveway to the garage where Clive pressed the second button to open the garage. Once inside, they intended to break through the interconnecting door to the house but could not believe their luck as the door was ajar and the key was in the lock. They hurriedly climbed the stairs to the ground floor and walked into the large kitchen.

  “My goodness, what an enormous kitchen!” said Clive as he headed towards the two doors at the opposite end of the room. “Which way?” He sought directions from Henrietta who gesticulated then gasped as she tugged at Clive’s linen jacket.

  “That is my Grandmother’s table and my antique chairs and that is my salt and pepper cruet.” Henrietta’s eyes were as large as saucers as they walked freely around the house searching for clues and repeatedly spotting Henrietta’s personal property and furniture. They walked into a smartly decorated sitting room.

  “At least he has brought his own sofas and his big TV from his flat in England but that chest and that painting are mine, the thieving git!” Henrietta pointed to the umpteen shelves of DVDs, “Just look at that lot. Have you ever seen so many. I know he loves action films, but that is ridiculous, isn’t it!”

  “Mr Newman has quite the panoply of crime and action fiction, which may explain his surreal approach to life. Henrietta, it is all just fantasy and fun to him.”

  They ended their search in the study on the top floor and began to sift through Terry’s files, his leather Filofax diary and the papers left out on the large dark wood modern desk. They did not know how to access his expensive copper coloured lap top computer which sat open and charging in front of them.

  “It looks as though he’s arranging mortgages for people.” said Clive and asked if Hetty knew any of the names of the applicants which he read out loud. She did not. Clive opened more files and the information he read made him increasingly agitated. “I’ve got an awful feeling about some of this stuff. Is this your signature?” Hetty glanced over at the document and confirmed that the signature did look exactly like hers.

  “If you didn’t sign it, we had better take this with us otherwise it looks as though you will be buying two hectares of development land in Cancellada for five million euros with planning permission for twenty two houses. Did you know about this?”

  “What? I can’t get my breath. What else is there?” She asked of Clive who was fluent in Spanish and able to translate the legal documents. He picked up a manila folder marked ‘Power’ and gasped in disbelief at the contents.

  “When did you give him an all-encompassing power of attorney over you?” The question was rhetorical but the document bore her signature and a notary stamp.

  “I didn’t. Oh God, no! What does it say? He made me buy a Spanish company and give him the power over that. What else has he done?” She grabbed hold of the document and picked out her name and one or two other words she could read in Spanish. Clive took a deep b
reath and translated the salient parts of the document to her which amounted to Terry Newman having absolute control over her, her bank accounts, her assets, her properties, her investments and also gave him power to set up bank accounts in her name and buy property in her name and ultimately gave him control and discretionary use of all her assets worldwide. Henrietta slumped against the edge of the desk and looked to Clive for help.

  “So what do we do?” She felt deflated, abused and cheated.

  “We get the hell out of here. If he can do this to you behind your back, he is capable of anything! Henrietta, he has absolute power over you as if you were in a vegetative state and unable to take care of your own life. You are not safe.” He put his arm around her waist as support and insisted that they left everything as they had found it with the exception of the page torn from Terry’s diary, as a sample of his hand writing, which was impossible to replace.

  When they were safely inside the Fiat, Clive straightened his hair and focused his mind as he drove away from the urbanization and Henrietta glared disapprovingly at him and considered how disappointing and ironic it was that he always bragged about being an officer in the Army and of his privileged schooling at Eton which had taught him so much about stiff upper lips. She decided that if a sixteen stone army officer was frightened, then maybe she wasn’t so feeble after all. She stared glibly out of the car window as Clive headed for Puerto Banus and dinner and completely forgot to return the remote to Oscar.