by L M Bee
“I don’t understand,” said Mary. “He definitely said he was going to be in Monaco all day.”
“Maybe he’s visiting a friend?” suggested Titty innocently.
“He probably lives here,” barked Arthur.
“No, we’re miles from his home,” replied Mary, “he lives near Bernard’s hotel.”
Sophia kept her mouth firmly shut and said nothing.
Oliver got out and walked round his new purchase, proudly inspecting the paintwork and wheel arches.
“Honey, I’m home!” he shouted cheerfully towards the Airstream. Mary and Sophia opened their windows to hear better.
A woman appeared in the doorway, tall and tanned with thick blonde hair twisted up in a clip.
“What do you think?” he drawled, looking expectantly at her.
Wiping both hands on her Harrods apron, she hurried down the steps to join him. Mary was mesmerised.
“For me, babe?” she shrieked excitedly.
“About time you had a new motor – up to snuff?”
“Very smart, and a V8 engine too, that’ll have no trouble pulling the Airstream.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Bet it’s juicy though,” she quipped, admiring the pristine navy bodywork.
“Come on, let’s go for a spin.”
“Okay, two secs, let me put some lipstick on and run a comb through my hair,” she said and dashed back inside.
Oliver sat drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, clearly keen to take her for a test drive and shouted impatiently, “Come on Mrs H, hurry up!”
“He’s fucking married!” exclaimed Mary in a hoarse whisper.
“Mum, your language!” scolded Arthur.
A large tear trickled down Mary’s cheek as her world started to crumble. Sophia reached across and put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
“You all right?”
“No,” gulped Mary, trying not to make a scene in front of the children.
Sophia stared at the discarded wheelchair lying on its side, horrified that things appeared to be getting rapidly worse. The five of them sat in complete silence, utterly transfixed, watching the scene unfold.
Fiddling with switches on the dashboard, he shouted at the caravan door, “Heated seats too!”
The woman reappeared looking super glamorous in bright red lipstick and clouds of long blonde curls. She locked the caravan door, pocketed the key, and turned round to walk down the steps.
“It’s Barbie!” sneered Kitty under her breath.
“Looks like Farrah Fawcett,” gasped Sophia.
“I think it’s her,” whimpered Mary. “The woman in the wheelchair on my first day, except I think she was wearing a wig before. Bet you all the tea in China it’s her, big Cindy Crawford beauty spot near her top lip.”
“I can see it!” shrieked Kitty.
“Shhh, they might hear!” chided Sophia.
“Look, they’re driving off,” squealed Titty, pointing at the Porsche Cayenne as it disappeared towards the exit. The five of them continued to stare at the aluminium Airstream, and the discarded wheelchair lying abandoned at the bottom of the steps.
“What should we do now?” whispered Titty.
“How brave are we feeling?” ventured Sophia.
“Very!” shouted Kitty, flinging open the car door. “He lied to Mum about being married, I’m going to take a closer look at that caravan.”
“Me too,” chimed Arthur and Titty in unison, promptly getting out of the car.
“Wait for me, I’m coming too!” roared Mary.
As the five of them tentatively approached the Airstream, Mary looked up at her teenage son, sternly wagging a finger.
“You picked the lock of the staff room door at school. I’ll never forget it, your Dad and I got such a rollicking from the headmaster. You’ve done it once, you can do it again, open that door!” she ordered.
Obediently Arthur strode ahead and tested the handle. Pulling his wallet out of a back pocket and selecting a bank card, fiddling it up and down in the narrow gap whilst jiggling the handle. After a couple of seconds, he turned round with a triumphant grin. “We’re in!”
He held the door open for his mother and Kitty, who were quickly followed by Sophia and Titty. There was barely room for the five of them to all stand inside the cramped living space, with a kitchenette off to one side and a door into one bedroom and a minuscule bathroom.
They all stood gawping at the walls of the living room.
“Oh my god,” choked Sophia.
“Oh my god,” echoed Mary.
Shivers ran up and down their spines.
Chapter 26
The retro caravan had a strange atmosphere, eerie, and noticeably lacking in personal belongings. Scant possessions. A half-drunk cup of tea and her nail polish on the table. A folded map of the Riviera next to a scented candle and Dunhill lighter. An empty bottle of Dom Pérignon on the draining board with two champagne glasses. Bizarrely, no family photographs or pictures of themselves. Nothing you would normally expect to see, things like letters addressed to them, or a pile of unwanted post on the side; it was strangely bare and anonymous.
Huddled in a group close together, they continued to gawp round the room in complete silence. Like a wall-to-wall pin-board, the living room walls were completely covered with photographs and newspaper articles printed off the internet.
“What the fuck?” bellowed Mary.
Nobody criticised her language this time, all too astonished at what they could see, every square inch pasted with cuttings about the Pembrokes.
“Look, there’s Dad’s obituary from The Times!” choked Arthur.
“And the one from The Telegraph!” gasped Titty, pointing to it.
In the midst of all the chaos, a wall calendar from The Fairmont Monte Carlo.
“Oh my god, look at that photo,” said Mary, pointing up high. “It’s me by the pool, talking to that woman in the wheelchair – on my first day here.”
She paused for thought, dropping her gaze, and collapsing in despair into the nearest armchair looking shocked to the core.
“Ollie must have taken that photo, but we only met for the first time the next day …”
Her face contorted, a mask of sheer horror, as Oliver Harrison’s pre-meditated and ruthless betrayal started to sink in. Covering her face with both hands she started sobbing like a toddler. Heartbroken, utterly heartbroken, her dreams destroyed in that instant as it dawned on her she’d been tricked. Sophia and Kitty both rushed to comfort her and wrapped their arms around her as she let it all out. After an initial outburst, Mary mustered her dignity and pulled herself together, damp eyes blazing with fury. Her maternal instinct kicking in, anxious to protect her children, she took a deep breath and attempted to explain to them as best she could, her voice breaking as she spoke.
“The man I fell for doesn’t exist. I was tricked by an imposter who invented a fictitious character. He’s a fraudster; he never loved me.”
Titty joined Sophia and Kitty, hugging Mary tightly between them, trying their best to comfort her.
“Right, that’s it,” roared Arthur, “let’s take the bloody lot and fake a burglary.”
“Definitely enough evidence here for the police,” added Sophia.
Titty spotted a blue IKEA bag stuffed under a chair. “Look, we can use that.”
“Fake a burglary?” sneered Kitty. “There’s nothing worth taking!”
“Don’t care,” shouted Sophia, getting totally over-emotional. “That bastard tried to wreck your Mum’s life, he deliberately lied about everything. He used a false identity to abuse her trust, not giving a shit about the misery he would cause all of you. Arthur’s right, take the lot, every photograph and press-cutting and put them in Titty’s bag – it rightly belongs to us in a funny sort of way. Kitty, you’re in charge of faking the burglary. Look in the bedroom for a suitcase or holdall, and let’s take as much as we can.”
“On it,” n
odded Kitty keenly.
“Stop!” bellowed Mary. Everyone immediately stopped dead in their tracks.
“It’s my life smeared across these walls, so I get to choose. What’s the point of removing everything – it’s evidence! Vital evidence against them, as long as they don’t up sticks and vanish into thin air with this caravan before the police can get here. No, leave it all just as it is. Sophia, ring Bernard and ask him to alert the local police force please. Kitty, no fake burglary, we don’t want Harrison and that mole-faced glamour puss knowing that anyone’s been here. Leave everything exactly as we found it, but I want you to photograph every single detail on your phones. All of you, videos too if you want, I don’t care how you do it, just record every single thing in this creepy caravan. Don’t worry about how many photographs you take, the police will sift through them, far more important to record every shred of evidence.”
“You’re right, Mary. Sorry, I overreacted,” apologised Sophia. “I’ll nip outside now to call Bernard. We’ve no idea how long they’ll be gone for, so be quick everyone, hurry! Out of here and back in the car in three minutes. Arthur, get a photo of that old Jeep’s registration number on the way out please.”
Kitty rushed into the bedroom to look for more evidence, turning her nose up at the decor, gold satin curtains and black Versace bedlinen. Again, no photographs and barely any personal belongings, very odd.
Crouching down to check under the bed, she spotted an old suitcase.
“Looks like this survived the First World War!” she shouted back to the others, and stood up to check inside the wardrobe.
“Fucking hell, Sophia come quick!”
Sophia rushed in and stopped dead. Kitty’s face a picture of disbelief as she stood holding open one of the wardrobe doors.
“It’s like a whole professional hair & make-up thing going on,” she stuttered.
“Exactly like an actor’s dressing room in the theatre,” gasped Sophia, “even the mirror with lights round it. Christ almighty, wigs galore and all sorts! Look there’s another photo of your Mum talking to that woman in the wheelchair. Her wig’s identical to this one here, exact same silver bob!”
“And these sunglasses too, the same ones.”
“Photograph the lot,” ordered Sophia. “Every wig, bit of make-up and whatever else you can find. Pinch some hairs from that hairbrush too for police DNA testing. But don’t move anything, just record it, quick! I’m stepping outside to call Bernard, back in a mo.”
Two minutes later, Kitty’s head bobbed round the doorframe into the living room. “Finished!”
Standing beside the exit, Sophia shouted, “Okay everyone, back in the car, fast as you can!”
Chapter 27
“Bernard, it’s Sophia. Did you manage to get through to the police?”
“Yes, they’re on their way.”
“We’re all back in the car outside. Should we stay and wait for them to arrive?”
“Not necessary. I explained to Bruno that you’ve photographed everything. He said get going, just in case Harrison comes back. Bruno will speak to you when you’re back here. His men are only moments away.”
Sophia started the ignition, needing little persuasion to get as far away as possible from the spooky Airstream. Arthur was holding the call towards her on speaker as they turned out of the campsite onto the main road. Two police cars with flashing lights, sirens wailing, came flying towards them heading for the caravan park.
“Can you hear that? The police, they’ve just arrived.”
“Good. Bruno de Berger’s shared some new information with me. I’ll tell you when you’re back, not over the phone while driving.”
Sophia couldn’t stop talking at a rate of knots.
“We’ve got loads of evidence for the police. You’ll never believe it, the woman in the wheelchair is his wife!”
“What woman in what wheelchair?”
“Actually now you say that she didn’t appear to need one, so I’m not entirely sure. She drove off with him in the new used car. Then Mary pointed to the photo of her wearing a wig, and instantly recognised her as the woman by the pool. Started crying because she didn’t meet Oliver Harrison until the next day …”
“Whoa, Sophia! Slow down and press the pause button, your adrenaline’s pumping like crazy, probably from the shock, which is why you’re not making much sense. Crystal clear to you I’m sure, but from this end it sounds like the ramblings of a mad woman – and Sophia my dear, a mad woman you are not. A horribly dramatic day for you all, of that I have no doubt, but just hurry up and get back here safely.”
“Okay,” mumbled Sophia numbly.
“If I may suggest a plan of action, meet me later, we can chat privately in my study – I’ve got some news from Bruno too. Come to my study at six o’clock, but for now just concentrate on getting everyone back here in one piece. You’ve all had a terrible shock, especially poor Mary. Might not be a bad idea to get the doctor to have a quick look at her, check she’s okay, it must have been a catastrophic shock for her. I’ll ask him to come over as soon as you’re back. The police are sending round someone to sift through the photos on your phones. The children must be shattered after their early start and extraordinary day. Tell them their swanky pad is ready and waiting for them. Drive safely, my dear, and I’ll see you at six.”
The moment the call ended, Kitty’s head appeared between the front seats.
“What swanky pad?”
Chapter 28
As soon as they got back to the hotel, the doctor arrived to see Mary in her room, prescribing bed rest for two days and some tablets to help her sleep. He promised to check on her every day, until satisfied with her recovery, and warned that emotional turmoil caused by the trauma might trouble her for a while. Time’s a great healer, he added, and the loving support of her three children would make a tremendous difference too.
When Arthur, Kitty and Titty were shown to their accommodation, they couldn’t believe their eyes. It was exactly as Bernard had described it – a swanky pad. The Maskells’ private pool house had been decked out like a self-contained apartment, packed with cushy seating, state of the art audio and cinema systems and every conceivable gadget.
“Look, there’s even a popcorn machine,” approved Kitty. “Cool!”
“Mr Bojangles will be happy here,” beamed Titty, lying back in a hammock.
The hotel phone trilled in the kitchenette. “I’ll get it,” announced Kitty, leaping through to pick up the receiver. After thanking the caller she turned to the others.
“How cool is that? Reception are sending over someone to show us how to use the cinema. And room service will deliver pizzas, any flavour we want, just choose your toppings!” She launched herself lengthwise onto the squashy sofa and stretched out. “I could get used to this lifestyle!”
On her way to meet Bernard, Sophia nipped up to Mary’s room to check on her. She knocked on the door, before tentatively opening it and popping her head round.
“Okay to come in?”
“Yes, of course. Sorry I can’t get up, come and sit over here.”
Propped up against the pillows in her nightie, Mary looked a shadow of her former self, no longer crying, but her face was red and blotchy, and her eyes so badly swollen they looked bruised. Sophia perched on the edge of the bed looking deeply concerned.
“How are you feeling?”
“Like the world’s biggest idiot! What a bloody fool I’ve been to be tricked by a con artist. Can’t believe I transferred all that money to him – do you think there’s any chance of me getting it back?”
“Not sure. I’m on my way to meet Bernard now, hopefully Bruno’s joining us by phone too, so I’ll ask them both for advice.”
“Can’t believe I fell for it, hook line and bloody sinker.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, that’s not going to achieve anything. The main thing is we’ve got oodles of evidence against them now, and the police are after them. Fingers cros
sed they’ll arrest Harrison, or whatever he’s really bloody called.”
“Can’t believe he’s married to her,” wailed Mary, starting to weep again. Sophia tugged a couple of tissues out of the box and passed them across; Mary blew her nose noisily. “I don’t understand, simply can’t make head nor tail of it. He showed me a photograph of her taken years ago, all long legs and little denim shorts, with big hair like Farrah Fawcett as you said. Thing is, I distinctly remember him telling me it was a photo of his sister Maureen who died of cancer five years ago. I wore her silk headscarf, it was in the glovebox, when we went for a drive along the coast road.” Mary’s voice petered off, confused and dismayed.
“And you said she introduced herself to you as Mo?”
“Yes, when we met by the pool, she said her name was Mo.”
“Mo’s an abbreviation of Maureen I suppose …”
“Yes, but he said she was DEAD!” shrilled Mary, staring forlornly at Sophia, her eyes filling up with tears that toppled slowly over her lower lashes. “He never bloody loved me. He was just playing with me, manipulating my emotions in order to steal my money. He must have been laughing his head off when I fell for it, believed every word he said – I feel so stupid.”
Sophia did her best to console Mary, who eventually stopped crying and dried her eyes. “Listen, I’ve got to go and meet Bernard now, get some rest. We all need you to get better soon. I’ll send the kids up to say goodnight, get an early night, and I’ll pop in to check on you in the morning.”
Sophia leant over and kissed her friend on the top of the head. It was heartbreaking to see her destroyed by that fucking arsehole. She was not one for revenge, but Sophia was going into the meeting with Bernard ready to do whatever necessary to help her friend and see her done right.
“Come in,” called Bernard from behind his desk. As soon as he saw Sophia, he stood up and ushered her towards the chair opposite. “Sit down, my dear.”
Sophia felt relieved to be in his company, a teddy bear of a man who could always be relied on for sound advice. Bernard rustled some papers on his desk, and coughed to clear his throat. Obviously he was in a serious mood this evening; no small talk, entirely businesslike.