by Helga Jensen
‘Shall we stop the game?’ I ask hopefully.
‘No, we want to carry on,’ says Jasper.
The marshal signals the game to restart and off we go again. Now that the boys know I was hiding in the tyres, I have to find another hiding place. I am arriving beside a tree when I spot Patrick.
I shoot the bottom of his leg with a red pellet and hope that it doesn’t hurt too much.
‘Thanks, Amelia,’ he shouts over to me, sounding rather unamused.
We all run around a little more and I find a new hiding place.
I am a total genius; nobody will ever find me behind this makeshift wooden shed. In fact, ten minutes have gone past and still nobody finds me. I must have run further than I thought as I can no longer hear any voices; they seem to have quietened and moved further away. Oh well, at least now nobody will hurt me and I don’t have to shoot my two little cherubs.
Eventually I spot the marshal who comes towards me.
‘Do you know where everyone is?’ he asks.
‘No,’ I say. ‘Have you lost them?’ I start to worry.
‘I’m sure they’re here somewhere, it’s a big area. People are always getting lost in these woods,’ he says.
This is not exactly reassuring to hear; they have already been lost once in the past few weeks. I certainly hope Patrick is with them somewhere. Then again, what if Patrick is the problem and has taken them? I start panicking.
‘Jasper, Rupert. Jasper, Rupert.’ I scream so hard I feel like my lungs will explode.
‘You go that way, and I’ll go this way,’ the marshal instructs.
I start to walk through the woods. I have to find them.
‘Rupert!’ I shout. ‘Jasper, where are you?’
Eventually I hear a muffled sound not too far away.
Heading in the direction of the sound, I spot a leg. I think it could be Patrick’s, as I notice the red stain near the ankle.
‘Patrick!’ I shout as I notice the ankle move. There is no response.
As I get closer to the ankle I see two smaller legs nearby. The three of them must be hiding behind the tree. I approach carefully in case they shoot me by mistake, even though I am in the required surrender pose. I hear them talking and reach in closer to listen to what they are saying.
‘Do you get it?’ I immediately recognise Jasper’s voice.
‘Okay, dude.’ That is definitely Patrick.
‘He won’t tell you again.’ This time I can hear Rupert’s tone.
‘You stay away from our mum, or I will ram this gun up your nostrils, one by one. Do you hear me… Duuuuuude?’ That is most certainly Rupert.
‘Rupert, Jasper! Don’t be so rude,’ I scream.
I finally move around the tree to find Patrick pinned to the tree trunk with Jasper in his face and Rupert standing back slightly. Jasper’s gun is practically up Patrick’s nose, and Rupert is holding his gun towards his groin shield.
‘I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Jasper, Rupert, stop pointing those guns. What on earth is wrong with you two?’ I scream.
Patrick peels himself off the tree trunk as the boys step back.
‘I am so, so sorry, Patrick,’ I say. ‘I can’t believe they would ever do something like this. It’s unforgivable.’
I know Patrick isn’t in my good books, but there is no need for the boys to be so violent.
‘Say sorry to Patrick,’ I say to both Jasper and Rupert.
Jasper looks at the floor while Rupert stares at me confrontationally.
‘Say sorry now,’ I insist.
‘NO!’ shouts Rupert.
I give them both the warning stare.
‘Sorry, Patrick,’ mumbles Jasper.
‘Now you, Rupert,’ I say.
‘No, never,’ he says.
‘Say it now,’ I demand.
‘Why should I?’ he asks. ‘I hate him and so does Jasper, but he’s too polite to say it. He’s horrible.’
‘He is a bit slimy, Mum,’ says Jasper quietly.
Patrick looks at me as if to say it is okay. However, it is not okay to be so rude and their behaviour has taken me by surprise. They were brought up to be polite to people, not threaten someone’s nostrils and say such nasty things to someone’s face. They could at least have told me in private what they thought of him.
‘We hate you, Patrick,’ screams Rupert. ‘Get out of our lives. We don’t ever want to see you again. Ever, ever, ever.’
Rupert storms off, throwing his paintball gun on the ground as Patrick and I stand there looking at each other. Jasper chases after Rupert just as the marshal spots us.
‘Ah, there you are,’ he shouts over. ‘Everything okay?’
No, everything is definitely not okay, Mr Marshal. Everything is definitely not okay.
Chapter 41
Laugharne – the truth about Patrick
With the boys in school today it means they won’t need to see Patrick again, which is definitely for the best. Rupert refused to speak to me in the car this morning, and Jasper was very quiet, which is highly unlike his usual chatterbox self. Patrick was calmer than I thought he might be about the whole hostage situation with the boys. He laughed it off and said that he didn’t blame them and it must be hard for them seeing their mum with someone other than their dad. I am not sure that is their problem, though, as they were quite happy for Jamie to be part of their lives. They have obviously not taken to Patrick and see something they despise. It is amazing how children can sometimes be more perceptive than their parents. However, my boys come first and so if they think he is a ‘phoney’, as Rupert informed me before bed last night, then I will take their word for it.
Patrick is due to leave today, as he wants to spend a few days in London before flying back. Yet he still hasn’t paid me back for the flight. He says that his credit card has still not been replaced and has now asked me to pay the hotel bill on my card, as he doesn’t want to use his ATM card. He explained that the rate of exchange at the cash point, to withdraw from a dollar account, is extortionate. I don’t understand: he was so generous in New York and now wants me to pay for everything. If I was less suspicious of him, I could say that he believes in equality but, after Rupert’s comments, I suspect that this is not what it is about at all. I will bet that he doesn’t have a small hotel bill and has put all his bar drinks on there too.
I head to the hotel earlier than arranged, so that hopefully we can at least have a chat before he leaves. I am leaning in to knock on Patrick’s door when I overhear that unmistakable New York accent. I can hear him clearly.
‘I’m leaving the polo meeting now, then going straight for my flight. I’ll see you soon. Love you, honey.’
So that is what this is all about. He has someone else. He must be married. That is the reason that he doesn’t want to use his credit card to pay for anything. There will be no trace if I pay for it all. Everything suddenly makes sense.
I knock the door ferociously, and he answers right away.
‘Were you on the phone?’ I ask suspiciously, noting that his phone is still in his hand.
‘No, I was in the bathroom.’ He smiles.
‘I could hear talking,’ I insist.
‘Oh, yeah, my boss. I forgot. She was on the phone to me.’
‘You love your boss now?’ I shout.
He ignores me.
‘I heard you say you loved someone, Patrick. Don’t deny it.’
‘Maybe it was the TV,’ he says.
‘No, the TV isn’t on, Patrick. I’m not stupid. Look, I can see something’s going on. You have to tell me the truth, finally. You at least owe me that. Nothing adds up. You won’t tell me anything about your illness. Nothing about your home life. You know all about me. The divorce, my mum… You’re so secretive. I followed you when I was in New York, if you’d like to know. When you left me in the hotel… I saw you go into the place with the key code, which I suspect is your home.’
Patrick’s face drains, although he still refus
es to speak. He sits down on the bed and puts his hand through that lovely head of hair of his.
‘Busted. I guess we do need to talk,’ he says calmly.
‘Too right we need to talk,’ I say. ‘Are you with someone else?’
‘Don’t be mad with me, okay, honey buns,’ he says.
‘Don’t honey buns me!’ I shout.
Patrick is about to speak when there is a knock on the door that startles us both.
Perhaps the minibar guy wants to count what Patrick’s consumed before he checks out. What timing.
The banging persists, and Patrick looks at me.
‘Answer it and get rid of whoever it is,’ he says.
As I open the door Jamie barges in, leaving the door wide open behind him.
‘Jamie, what on earth do you want?’ I ask. ‘How did you know where I was?’
‘Sian told me… Look here, I’ve had enough of this lying cheat. He walks around with his designer clothes and those stupid loafers. I bet he even uses a shoehorn. Look at him,’ he says with contempt. ‘You need to tell Amelia the truth before I do,’ continues Jamie. ‘I’m giving you ten seconds.’
‘Yeah, I do use a shoehorn. Busted again,’ says Patrick.
‘Tell me what is going on NOW…’ I scream. I want to jump up and down like a toddler having a tantrum.
Patrick looks at Jamie, then at me.
‘Okay, okay. Take a chill pill, I’m married. No big fucking deal.’
‘No… Big… Fucking… Deal?’ I spit out each word slowly.
I knew it. Why did I not realise this before? It was glaringly obvious. All the signs were there, including the Sacramento trip. He is a journalist; he is very good at turning questions on someone else. When I would ask him a question, he would tell me to say more about myself. I found it flattering that he was so interested in what I had to say, but now I see why. How on earth could I be so stupid?
‘Why did you do this to me, Patrick? After I told you how Dick was unfaithful, why would you do this? What did you want from me?’ I ask.
He doesn’t answer.
‘Bullshit, Patrick,’ says Jamie. ‘It’s time Amelia knew the whole truth about you.’
Jamie’s outburst confuses me further.
‘He’s not married, Amelia. He will never be married. He’s not the type,’ says Jamie.
‘What? Why would he say…? Oh, I have no idea what is going on here… Someone please enlighten me.’
‘You know the conference I was at in New York? Well, it was about security and fraud, remember I told you?’
Something tells me that I should have listened properly to Jamie when we were at dinner.
‘Umm, okay,’ I say. I have no idea where this is heading.
‘Right, well, with the advances in technology there are plenty of facial recognition tools around. I took a photo of Patrick in the airport, as I wanted to check him out. Something about him screamed “scammer” from what I had heard about his behaviour. The way he disappeared and then was all over you… He was very inconsistent. So, I used his photo for an exercise at work, to show the team how easily we can check someone out with facial recognition and, well, I won’t bore you with the technical details…’
Patrick puts his head in his hands as Jamie continues explaining.
‘This man who… who sits in front of you is not who he says he is. He is called Rudolph.’
‘Bastard!’ shouts Patrick.
‘Now, now. Let me finish, Rudolph… Yes, his name is Rudolph and you are not the first woman who he has tried to con.’
‘Con?’ I ask.
‘I bet you paid for his flight, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but…’
‘This guy is all over the internet, Amelia. He is a well-known gigolo. He preys on women in vulnerable states. Ones who are recently widowed, or divorced and lonely. He seeks them out. It is what is called a romance scam. He appears as though he is the ideal soulmate, woos the women with fancy meals and the like, may even hint that he doesn’t have long to live, but it’s all an elaborate investment. He looks for rich, lonely women and seduces them to begin with, but then it turns nasty when they don’t give him what he wants. He is not a journalist at all. He works as a baggage handler.
‘I bet you got a huge discount on your flight but got Amelia to pay the full amount, so you could pocket the difference. Am I right, Rudolph?’
I think I preferred Patrick when I thought he was married. The fact that he works in an airport certainly seems to make sense. There is so much to take in. Strangely, what saddens me most is that ‘he thought I was vulnerable’. Those words ring in my ears… I was a vulnerable divorcee who was… rich?
‘I’m not rich, so I don’t know why he would pick on me.’ This part is completely illogical.
‘He didn’t know that. You told him you’d lost your mother, right? In his eyes he sees the word “inheritance”. Then a divorce from a banker. On paper it all looks too good to be true to a scammer like this.’
‘But Dick only worked as a cashier in the bank; he wasn’t an investment banker, or anything.’
‘Like I say, it all looked too good to resist for someone like this. Sian’s media campaign was the perfect opportunity for him. I have had words with Sian, she should never have put you up to this.’
‘Sian already knows?’
‘I’ll explain that bit later. But, yes, that’s why she told me where you were. We were so worried about you.’
I sit on the edge of the bed as I take everything in. No wonder he was so charming and perfect. I feel such an idiot for falling for a romance scam. I am old enough to know better. I should have known he wasn’t real; it was too good to be true from the start. He was so good at his act. I can’t even cry, or shout, or, anything, really. I am just in a state of shock. I feel like the most gullible idiot out there.
‘I feel so stupid, Jamie. Why didn’t I realise?’ I ask.
‘It’s not you, Amelia. He’s tricked lots of women into buying things for him, giving him money, etc. These scammers are good nowadays. They spend a little money on a woman and then expect the unsuspecting victim to spend more on them. They seek people out and know what to say. This was the ideal opportunity for him,’ explains Jamie.
‘So, it wasn’t you that I met all those years ago then?’ I ask. ‘But, you knew about the thong… I never told you about it; you knew about it already so it has to be you. You remember it, don’t you?’ Please at least tell me it was him I met all those years ago.
‘Of course, it wasn’t him, his name is Rudolph Pressario,’ says Jamie.
‘Jeez, she’s slow, mate,’ says Patrick, looking at Jamie.
‘You’re on thin ice here and I’m not your MATE,’ warns Jamie.
‘Oh, you think you’re so smart. I bet he suspected something all along, didn’t you Jaaamie? I saw that look you gave me in the airport. You sussed me out right away. Why didn’t you tell her sooner if she is so special to you? Don’t tell me you only just found out about me?’
Jamie looks at me nervously.
‘Well, I have known for a while but…’
I look at both of them in disbelief.
‘Why didn’t you tell me this sooner, Jamie?’
‘I wanted to find out more, Amelia. I wanted to know all the facts first, before rushing in and telling you.’
‘Thought so. Sneaky shit. I know guys like you, there’s always that brother, or some guy hanging around in the background who starts enquiring about me. They poke about into my business and then start putting ideas into the woman’s head. Then they stop paying for things for me and… Yeah. Textbook it is. Every. Fucking. Time. Always some nosy guy,’ says Patrick. ‘You know what I do to men who get in my way?’ he adds.
Patrick closes in on Jamie, but Jamie backs away. You can see that Patrick is no stranger to a fight. It comes as no surprise when he manages to get hold of Jamie and throws an almighty punch, hitting him straight in the face.
‘Get off him,�
�� I plead.
Patrick grabs Jamie, as if doing a rugby tackle, and pulls him down on the floor, leaving Jamie’s head halfway outside the room and spilling into the corridor.
‘Stop fighting. Patrick, please, think of your face,’ I beg.
Surely that will stop him fighting. I have noticed the selection of male skincare products that he uses, so it is obvious that his looks are important to him.
Alas, it is too late, there is blood spurting everywhere.
‘I’m going to kill you, you piece of shit. I’m going to kill you,’ Patrick screams uncontrollably between punches.
Although I am incredibly frightened, I know that I must intervene. Whilst Jamie has managed to return a couple of punches, if this continues Patrick could surely kill him. I find my moment to help when Patrick becomes distracted with the noise of someone coming along the corridor. I get close enough to see that it is Jamie’s blood that is spouting everywhere and try to pull Patrick off him. Jamie is in bad shape and we need to get to a hospital urgently.
Fortunately, startled by the person approaching the room, Patrick makes a run for it, giving me the opportunity to ring for an ambulance.
Chapter 42
The nearest hospital – poor Jamie
The hospital reminds me of the last time that I was here. It was when Mum was admitted for the final time. I would wait beside her bed, hoping for positive news, refusing to believe that her life was about to end. Even when she was unconscious, I stupidly thought she would pull through. I never thought that it was finally time to say goodbye. In a way I now realise that I have done the same thing all my life. I have always believed what I wanted to believe. Dick would come home late, smelling of scent, but I still put it down to work, assuming that perhaps the new young female recruits were spraying it around the office. I now recognise it as Tanja Tart’s signature smell. He must have thought I was so gullible. Perhaps I am, but it is only because I want to think the best of everyone and every situation. I refuse to believe that there are bad people out there who want to hurt someone else.
Now I realise that I have done this with Patrick. I thought the best of him. How could I believe that he was so fabulous? I saw what I wanted to see. A fairy-tale romance at the age of forty-eight; of course it was too good to be true. I should never have believed that stupid fortune teller either. Was she part of his elaborate scam? Surely that would be too intricate, even for him.