by Bowes, K T
“What’s this about?” The woman stepped into the show room, her eyes roving across Sophia’s face in confusion. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor in an angry staccato.
The girl dipped forward, head in hands and shoulders heaving. “It’s you,” she groaned, fighting the tears. “What am I gonna do now?”
Chapter 22
Failure
The woman dismissed the salesman, assuring him she’d be fine. Then she walked to a kitchen and filled a glass with cool water. “Drink this,” she said, putting it under Sophia’s nose. “Take a moment to get a hold of yourself.”
Sophia swallowed the water, choking on it in her haste to obey. The woman’s eyes never left her face, sitting opposite with her blonde hair sweeping around her shoulders. Sophia gulped until the glass sat empty in her fingers and no choice remained but to lift her eyes to face the woman observing her with cool interest. “Please don’t make us move here,” she said, a hiccup interjecting mid-sentence. “Can’t you let him wait until the end of the year? I won’t live with my mum and I’ve nowhere else to go.” Another tear coursed down Sophia’s face and dived off her chin.
The woman’s brow knitted and she shook her head. “Sweetheart, I don’t know who you are. I think you’ve made a mistake.”
Sophia gripped the glass in her hand and sat forward on her chair, her cheeks pink and her eyes filled with desperation. “It’s you! I recognise you from the pictures. You speak to my dad most days, please don’t lie.”
The woman sighed and reached over, taking the glass from Sophia’s twisting fingers and putting it on a coffee table between them. Her brown eyes looked kind as she sought clarity. “Who’s your father, sweetie? What’s his name?”
“Edgar Armitage!” Sophia bounced in the chair, her eyes flashing. “He thinks you’ve got work for him here and he’s resigning his job and selling our house. I don’t want to come to Palmy; my life in Hamilton is fine!”
The woman squeezed the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger and closed her eyes. When she opened them, determination back lit the stunning blue irises. “Start at the beginning,” she demanded. “I need you to explain.”
The story emerged in the wrong order, interspersed with remembered detail and tangents with no discernible relevance. Sophia fidgeted through the process, becoming frustrated with her companion’s sense of disbelief. “I promise you, Sophia, I’ve never spoken to your father.” She shook her long blonde hair behind her shoulder and sighed. “You’re sure he’s talking to me? I know Melody isn’t a common name but it might be someone else.”
Sophia shook her head and wiped her eyes on her wrist. “It’s you. I saw the photos.” She leaned forward. “There’s one of you on a boat and another in front of the garage.” Sophia stood and ran to the window. “You stood there by a flash Mercedes.” She raked the woman’s face for any subtle differences. “Your hair looked redder and you’ve lost weight. It was you for sure.”
Melody stood and put a hand to her mouth. “I know the photos. My husband took the one on the boat before he died.” She took a step towards Sophia and then whirled away, heading for the glass office with her heels clicking an angry beat.
The flouncy skirt flapped around Sophia’s thighs as she left her chair and ran after Melody, a knot in her chest betraying her anxiety. “Where are you going?” she pleaded. Her voice wavered and sounded pitiful. The blisters created sharp pains and caused her to limp after the tall blonde woman in the high heels.
“This can’t be right.” Melody sat in the leather office chair behind a tidy desk and bent sideways, doing something near the floor. Sophia approached her, hearing a whirring sound as a computer booted up and its monitor on the desk flickered to life.
“What’re you doing?” Sophia’s hands writhed together, her fingers threading through one another. Melody looked up at her.
“I’m checking Facebook,” she said. “My son put those photos up when he created my profile.” She tapped a long fingernail on the surface of the desk and the wait felt terminal.
“So, you’re saying it’s really not you who’s catfishing my dad?” Sophia’s throat felt tight. “You think it’s someone pretending to be you?”
“It has to be!” Melody snapped. “This is awful!” The screen lit up to display a river scene with icons scattered over its surface like flotsam. She turned to Sophia. “Now, how do I find this stupid thing?”
She edged nearer, confusion on her face. Her eyebrows knitted and she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “What stupid thing?”
“Facebook!” Melody snapped. “It’s here somewhere but how do I find it?”
Chapter 23
Unlikely Allies
Fifteen minutes later Sophia sat back in the chair and stretched, hearing the tiny bones in her back give sickening little clicks. She found the Facebook profile in an Internet Explorer browser on the desktop, but the password eluded them until Melody rang her son. Sophia scrolled through the profile in confusion. “I don’t understand,” she said.
Melody shrugged and leaned back, pushing an empty coffee mug away from her. Her lips curved upwards in a smug smile. “You can see it’s not me,” she said. “There aren’t any messages.”
Sophia swallowed. “But this profile is exactly the same as the one Dad sees.” She sighed. “I guess you might have been cloned.”
Melody jerked her head back and stared at Sophia as though she’d said something alien. “Cloned?” She repeated the word slower, tasting it and then shaking her head. “This stuff is beyond me,” she admitted. “I’m an accountant and a superb one. I love ledgers and calculators, the odd spreadsheet.” She waved her arm towards the computer. “Social media isn’t my thing.”
Sophia pointed at the date in the profile details. “Happy birthday for last Monday,” she said, forcing a smile.
Melody leaned forward and peered at it. “That’s not real,” she said, her face breaking into a smile. “Riley’s little joke. He said people would get reminders about my birthday and keep writing messages and I told him I didn’t want that. Silly bugger’s put his own birthday in, but the year’s funny.”
“Why is it funny?”
Melody rolled her eyes. “I’m not forty-five!” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t look that old, do I?”
Sophia swallowed. “I’m not good with old people’s ages,” she said. Her eyes grew sad. “Edgar’s forty-six. I bet he thinks that’s your real birthday.”
Melody looked aghast. “I’m thirty-five,” she said, looking horrified. “There’s a massive difference. My husband was younger than me though, which might make me a cradle snatcher but I doubt it.”
“Your husband?” Sophia widened her eyes. “The one who died in a car accident?”
“No.” Melody shook her head. “My husband died on the boat you saw in the photograph.”
“I thought Dane said it was a car accident.” The reminder of Dane made the sick feeling begin in her stomach again and she pushed it away, dealing with the matter in hand. She muted the feelings by thinking aloud. “Why did he think that?” she said. “He must have read something.” Sophia’s index finger worked over the mouse pad, scrolling through the different pages. She found nothing referring to the man’s death. She sat back, looking defeated. “It must be in the messages,” she concluded. “Dane read the messages on Edgar’s profile and the other Melody must have said it there somewhere. Maybe it was in the emails; he saw some of those too.” Sophia thought for a moment, the solution obvious. “Yeah, I bet the fake Melody said it was a car accident and that’s what Dane saw. Otherwise Edgar might remember your husband’s death. Was it on the news?”
Melody, smiled, the expression wistful. “My husband was a professional and very well-known within his sport, yes. The accident got a lot of news traction.”
“That’s it then. Fake Melody’s going to heaps of trouble to stop Edgar discovering she’s not you.”
Melody shrugged and watched Sophia’s fingers. “I em
ailed no one called Edgar. Who is Dane and what kind of person clones Facebook pages?” she asked. “It seems a pointless thing to do.”
“Not at all,” Sophia replied. “Identity theft is massive nowadays. Catfish use other people’s photos to create a dummy profile and engage in online relationships with people who think they’re real. Then there’s phishing emails and other communications through social media designed to make you want to part with money.”
Melody screwed up her nose. “Why would you part with money to someone you’ve never met?” She sounded incredulous. “We have a problem here with people using stolen credit cards and documents to buy cars or get loans approved. What good does a fake Facebook page do?”
Sophia exhaled, embarrassment creating a flush from her chest to her jaw line. “Fake Melody wants my dad to sell the house and invest in your garage. He thinks he’s coming here to work and help run the business. If this person’s got him hooked, he might part with the money even before he gets here.” Sophia put her head in her hands. “And then we’re so screwed.”
Melody sat back in her seat. “We should tell the cops,” she said. Deciding, she reached for the phone on her desk. “They’ll have a fraud department.”
“Please don’t!” Sophia put her fingers over Melody’s, her eyes begging. “Let me speak to him first and break the news. He’s got no idea you’re not real.”
“I am real.” Melody put the phone back on its cradle. “But I’m not in love with your father and I certainly don’t need a business partner.” She looked at Sophia with growing compassion. “You’re a plucky little thing. What if I’d been this nasty fishy person with every intention of ripping your dad off? What then?”
Sophia shook her head. “I don’t know. Didn’t think that far ahead.”
Melody stood. “I’ll give you a week,” she said, her smile sincere. “Then I’m shutting down this stupid Facebook thingy for good. I told Riley I’d never use it but he thought I might change my mind. I don’t understand it and after what you’ve just told me, I don’t want him to have one either.”
“Will you be calling the cops?” Sophia asked, her eyes wide.
Melody nodded. “I think I should.”
“Can you wait on that one too?” she begged.
The blonde woman stared down at Sophia’s tear-streaked face and considered the request, her eyes bright and her smile kind. “Okay,” she agreed. From a holder on her desk she pulled out a business card and placed it into Sophia’s palm. “Here you go, sweetheart. That’s my number here and my cell phone number. Give me yours and we’ll stay in touch.”
Sophia rattled off her number, wishing she had her phone so they could connect straight away. She kept the card locked into her palm with stiff fingers, feeling the sharp embossed edges of the wording. “How old’s your son?” she asked, wanting to know more about a woman she just confessed her father’s stupidity to.
Melody smiled. “Two darn young for you, sweetie. He’s fourteen and just about to lose Facebook for life.”
Sophia stopped on the threshold as Melody walked her out. The woman stopped to set a burglar alarm and slid the huge glass door closed behind her. “You don’t think he might have done it as a joke?” Sophia asked and Melody’s brows knitted. “Your son. He might think it funny and not expect it to get so out of hand.”
“I don’t think so, but I’ll make sure when I get home.”
Sophia waved the card. “Please will you let me know?”
Melody nodded, her expression somber. “I promise, sweetie. Now, are you okay to get back to wherever you’re staying or do you need a ride?”
Sophia struggled to control her false smile as she shook her head and lied about how near her motel was. She kept the parting more jovial than she felt, saying, “Oh, you should probably ignore the message your salesman gives you tomorrow.”
“What message?” Melody looked worried.
“He’ll tell you a student is coming to see you about buying a car,” Sophia said. “I don’t need to now.”
“Oh.” Melody’s face brightened. “Very clever. That’s you then?”
Sophia nodded and waved as they parted company, beginning her long walk back to the campsite with each painful footstep heavier than the last.
Chapter 24
Destruction
The ute pulled up alongside as Sophia trudged up Fitzherbert Avenue, admiring the array of motels and wishing she could crawl into a vacant room and sleep for a week. Dane’s blank face peered out at her and he leaned across and pushed the passenger door open. “Get in!” he said, without expression.
Sophia swallowed and looked around, finding herself alone on the long, straight road. Her feet stung and without a bus, she knew a long walk awaited her. She climbed in and closed the door behind her, fastening her seatbelt and waiting for him to say something. With a crunch of gears Dane set off, lips silent and blue eyes staring ahead. He executed a perfect turn in the road and headed back in the direction she’d walked. “Where are we going?” Sophia asked, her voice sounding small against the roar of the engine.
Dane didn’t answer but drove into the centre of Palmerston North, parking alongside a square patch of ground which occupied the heart of the city. Everything surrounded and led back to it like satellites returning to their sun. Sophia peered into the dusk in confusion. “Where are we?” she asked. “Can’t we just pack up and go to Hamilton?”
Dane got out and waited for her to follow, locking the ute using the remote control. She hurried after him, cursing her painful feet. Resisting the urge to ask him anything else, she let him lead her to a cafe selling take away pizza, slumping into a chair to wait for the order. Dane remained near the counter, hands thrust into pockets and his back towards her. After a painful ten minutes, the pizza box passed into Dane’s hands and they left. Sophia turned towards the car but Dane didn’t. Heading across the grass, he sank onto the bottom step of a war memorial and opened his pizza. Sophia stood, feeling awkward and out of place.
“I caught a bus,” she said, making conversation. “The driver seemed nice. I had no money, but he said students ride free here. They don’t in Hamilton, do they?”
Dane closed his eyes as though her rambling distressed him and Sophia silenced herself, distracting her brain by bending Melody’s card back and forth in her fingers. “Damn!” she exclaimed, the thought surfacing long enough for her to snatch it away. “I didn’t check her list of friends. I bet he’s there.” She banged herself on the forehead in temper. “What an idiot! I checked everything else but not that.”
Dane pushed the pizza box towards her, four slices staring up with cheese piling off the sides like a calorie overload. Sophia shook her head and he shrugged and tucked in. She paced up and down in front of the war memorial, thoughts racing through her head. “Can I have my phone back please?” she asked, holding out her hand and Dane shook his head.
“Why?” Sophia stamped her foot. “I need to ring this lady and ask her to check something.”
He remained silent, finishing the pizza and closing the box. Then he strolled through the square looking for a dustbin to dump it in.
“Please give my phone back?” Sophia begged, sounding more and more desperate.
“Why?” Dane rounded on her as she followed him back to the ute and another couple getting into their car stopped to look. Dane noticed and lowered his voice. “Why do you want it, Soph? Is it so you can call the cops and tell them I attacked you?”
“What? No!” Sophia stepped towards him and he backed away, pressing his backside against the ute. “No, of course not.”
“Really?” he spat, aggression and hurt making his blue eyes flash in the street lights. “Are you sure? You ran off like I did. I figured you might wanna finish your hatchet job on my confidence.”
“I’m sorry.” Shame filled her chest cavity and Sophia reached out, her fingers finding empty air as Dane spun away and climbed into the ute. She walked around to the passenger side and got in, glan
cing across at his angry profile. “Dane,” she began, but he raised his hand in dismissal.
“Don’t want to hear it, Soph. Let’s just go back to the camp site; I planned to take a look at the garage but I figure you’ve already done that. I hope it worked out for you, I really do.” He started the engine.
“But it didn’t! The real Melody knows nothing about Edgar or any job at the garage!”
Dane shrugged and pulled away from the curb, driving back to the camp site and ignoring Sophia’s obvious distress. His jaw worked as she faced the window and tears dripped from her chin, swiped away by quick, embarrassed movements.
At the camp site he parked the ute back in place and went for a walk, leaving Sophia alone. He didn’t return and she put herself to bed in her designated tent. Darren and Animal arrived back on foot in the early hours, giggling and incoherent. Sophia woke at the sound of their antics and lay awake long after they silenced. Her body insisted she get up for the bathroom and she unzipped the tent and stumbled across to the communal building, using the solar lights along the path to find her way there and back. Passing the ute she peeked in the rear window, upset to see Dane stretched out on the seat. His long legs looked knotted beneath him, his only covering a jacket. Sophia raised her hand to knock and then dropped it to her side. His distance felt more than the few centimetres between them and Sophia crawled back into her tent with her heart in pieces.
Chapter 25
Running
Dane drove the ute back to Hamilton, neither looking at Sophia nor engaging in conversation. Darren itched to occupy the other back seat but Dane kept him up front. Sophia wasn’t sure if he meant to deny her any friendly company or protect her from Darren’s heightened interest at the tension between the golden couple. She stared through the filthy glass for six hours, using the bathroom at garages along the route and fighting the urge to get out on the Desert Road and just run until she collapsed. The notices declaring the area an army gun range for the next twenty kilometers made her think twice and she sulked in the back seat. Even the sight of Ruapehu’s unpredictable stratovolcano failed to interest her and by the time they reached Lake Taupo, Sophia felt beyond miserable.