A Mind of her Own

by Rosie Harris

  ‘I know what you are all saying and I don’t want your help,’ she told him, sharply.

  Peter looked crestfallen. ‘I only meant that I’d help and do anything you couldn’t manage to do,’ he told her.

  ‘So, you’ve told me countless times,’ Betty said crossly. ‘Leave me alone in peace. If I want your help I’ll ask for it, and the chances are I’d sooner manage without!’

  ‘What about shopping? I’m sure you won’t be able to get to the shops for a while, and it would save Sally here having to do it for you.’

  ‘Drink your coffee and go home,’ Betty told him, ‘and stop calling on Sally to make you coffee every day, you can make your own.’

  Sally waited until Peter had said goodbye and left before saying firmly to Betty, ‘I think you should be grateful to Peter and treat him better.’

  ‘I’m fed up with him constantly pestering me and wanting to help,’ Betty retorted. ‘It seems to me that there is always someone who knows better than I do about what I should and shouldn’t do. I had it from my family all the time I was in hospital. Even my own daughter, Mary, was lecturing me about going into a home because it wasn’t safe for me to be on my own, especially at night. How would you feel if your family treated you like that?’

  ‘I’m sure it is because they are worried about you, especially being on your own at night, in case you have a fall.’

  ‘I know that, and Tim says he is going to get me one of those button things to hang round my neck that I can press if I fall and call for help. He says the call will go through to a help centre and to him at the same time. I don’t want that! He takes no notice and you can bet your boots he’ll be turning up with one in a few days’ time. I don’t intend wearing it.’

  ‘Be rather foolish not to do so,’ Sally murmured. ‘Anyway,’ she went on with a twinkle in her eyes, ‘if you don’t want to do that, then accept Peter’s suggestion and let him move in with you.’

  Betty laughed. ‘You should have seen the look on Mary’s face when I told her he had offered to do so. “He’s after your money”, she warned me. “Whatever happens you mustn’t do that”.’

  ‘Rubbish!’ Sally stated.

  ‘That’s what I said. I told her he had his own house, and a good pension, so what did he want my money for.’

  ‘Your daughter is only trying to protect you, I suppose,’ Sally said warily, ‘but surely after all these years of living almost next door to him since she was a child, Mary must know that Peter isn’t like that?’

  ‘I know but how would you feel if you were in my shoes?’

  ‘Probably tell her to mind her own business.’

  ‘That really would cause a family row. They would probably say I had gone out of my mind and get a couple of doctors to verify the fact, and have no trouble putting me into a home. I’d have no say at all.’

  ‘Then go ahead and accept Peter’s help and be grateful for it,’ Sally told her. ‘He means well.’

  ‘He’s too pushy. I can’t stand it and all this business about trying to please me.’

  ‘He means well,’ Sally repeated.

  ‘I suppose he does but I don’t want him looking after me doing things for me, or preventing me from doing the things I want to do in my home, or in my garden.’

  ‘No, but it is better than your family insisting that you go into a home!’

  Four

  Betty had been home six weeks when she received a telephone called from her bank to say that a large sum of money had been drawn from her account and they needed to verify that it was not fraudulent.

  For one moment the caller’s voice was driven out by the horrifying thought that filled Betty’s mind: had her daughter Mary been right? Had she made a foolish mistake in letting Peter handle her affairs? She felt shocked, how could things have gone so wrong when everything had seemed to be running so smoothly.

  Although she didn’t want Peter moving in with her, she had conceded that he was her rock and had to come to depend upon his help more and more. He did her shopping, he kept the garden under control and he took her out whenever she needed to go somewhere. More and more he was taking over, even doing the shopping for her. She had given him her credit card and told him what her pin number was so that he could pay for groceries, and she had handed him her debit card so that he could even draw out cash for her so that she had no need to go to the bank.

  ‘Sorry, I was distracted, could you repeat what you said?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ the cultured voice told her. ‘A large sum of money has been withdrawn from your account and we need to check that you were aware of this.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ Betty exclaimed in alarm. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Well, if you tell us your account number and pin number we can confirm this.’

  ‘You told me never to disclose those to anyone,’ Betty said worriedly.

  ‘Quite right, madam,’ he paused as if trying to think of a solution. ‘I tell you what we will do. We’ll send a courier round to pick them up. Put them in a sealed envelope and hand them over to the man who will be in uniform and who will show you his identity card.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Betty prevaricated. ‘I don’t know who I’m talking to.’

  ‘I understand your reluctance, and it’s very sensible of you, so I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll hang up and you ring your bank and ask the manager there to confirm what I have told you. Right?’

  ‘Very well,’ Betty said hesitantly.

  ‘Have you the number handy?’

  Before she could answer he reeled it off to her and she recognized the number and was convinced that it was the bank she used. With a feeling of relief, she did as he told her. She put down her phone and then picked it up again and dialled the number. A different voice answered her and Betty explained what had happened.

  ‘I’m sorry you’ve been troubled like this, Mrs Wilson, but if you could do as my colleague has instructed we will verify how much has been taken and tell you what we are prepared to do about it.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ she asked in a bewildered voice.

  ‘If the fault is ours, then we will recompense you, but if someone who is known to you has taken the money then there is not a lot that we can do. Has anyone except yourself got access to your bank cards?’

  Betty hesitated. ‘Well yes,’ she admitted. ‘A friend has. You see, I find it difficult to get out these days and so when I need some shopping done this friend does it for me and I have to let them have my credit card number so that they can pay for the goods.’

  ‘I quite understand. Although it is rather irregular, I can see that you may find it necessary. Now don’t worry, we will look into the matter immediately. The courier is already on his way so put the phone down, find your cards, put them into a sealed envelope, and hand them over to him.’

  ‘Is that safe?’ Betty asked anxiously.

  ‘Quite safe. He will be wearing an identification badge so you can check that you are handing it to the right person.’

  As Betty hunted for an envelope she found herself again remembering what Mary had said. Although she was sure Peter wouldn’t do anything like that, she couldn’t help wondering.

  When she’d put both her debit and credit cards into the envelope she made doubly sure they were safe by using a strip of Sellotape to seal them, as well as the gum on the envelope. Then she went down the path to wait by her gate for the courier.

  Peter was working in the garden. He looked up and greeted her as she came down the path.

  ‘Going to the post office?’ he said, nodding towards the envelope in her hand.

  Betty shook her head. Then on the spur of the moment, and because she felt she had to warn him about what was happening, she told him about the call she’d had from the bank.

  Peter frowned and let out a low whistle. ‘I don’t like the sound of that,’ he said.

  ‘Neither do I. You haven’t told anyone else my pin number, have you?’

  ‘
Of course not!’ His eyes narrowed. ‘It sounds fishy to me. I tell you what, find another envelope and put something about the same thickness as your cards inside it for the guy to collect and the moment he’s taken them from you I’ll drive you to the high street and you can go into the bank and make sure about what is going on.’

  ‘I’ve already phoned them and spoke to the manager,’ Betty told him.

  ‘I know, but a double-check isn’t a bad thing. If you should have handed over your cards than you can tell him what you’ve done and give the real ones to the bank to deal with.’

  Betty looked confused. ‘All right, if you think I should,’ she agreed.

  The moment the motorcyclist had collected the second envelope from Betty, Peter fetched his car and they drove to the bank.

  Betty explained to the teller what had happened and he reported it to the manager immediately. They were shown into a private room and the manager listened intently as Betty related the phone calls and the courier who had called to take away her cards.

  ‘Oh, my goodness, Mrs Wilson, I wish you hadn’t done that,’ he told her. ‘I’m afraid you handed them over to the very people who have been tampering with your account. I don’t know how they got hold of your number, but obviously they have, and as a matter of fact money has already been transferred from your savings account into your current account ready to be withdrawn. Previously it looks like a small amount was taken, maybe as a test. Now you have given them carte blanche to withdraw everything you have in it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Betty said looking at him in amazement. ‘I phoned you after I’d had their call to verify that I was to hand over the cards. In fact, they told me to confirm it with you.’

  The manager shook his head. ‘No, when you picked up your phone again the line was still open to them and the man’s accomplice spoke to you.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because it’s a scam, Mrs Wilson.’

  ‘A scam! You mean they’re imposters?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s exactly that, a scam. I will immediately call our security people and explain what has happened and see if they can stop any more money being taken from your account, but they may have already used the cards you handed over to them to clear your account.’

  Betty smiled. ‘No, they can’t do that. The envelope I gave to the courier just had bits of an old card from some estate agency that was lying around. I didn’t put my credit card or my debit card in there. I’ve got them here.’ She held out the two cards to the bank manager.

  He stared at them in astonishment as he took them from her.

  ‘Mrs Wilson, how very clever of you!’

  ‘I hope so,’ she said, her smile broadening. ‘Actually, it wasn’t my idea it was Mr Brown’s.’

  The bank manager looked at Peter. ‘You are the one who uses her cards and knows her pin number, are you?’ he commented.

  ‘Yes,’ Peter admitted. ‘I knew them on both her cards. You see, I go shopping for her and she gives me the cards instead of money. We thought it was safer that way.’

  The bank manager looked grave. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you would think so but tell me have you ever actually handed the cards to anyone and let them take them away.’

  Peter looked thoughtful. ‘There’s only one place that I can think of and that was the new chancellery shop that’s just opened in the next village.’

  ‘So why did you do that?’

  ‘It was just the credit card,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t been in there before and the assistant said that he needed to check that it was genuine.’

  ‘He would have known whether it was or not when you put it in the machine. If it wasn’t genuine the bank would reject it and refuse to pay.’

  Peter nodded. ‘I did think that, but I didn’t know enough about it to be certain so I didn’t argue with the man.’

  ‘So, he took the card and went out into the back of the shop with it?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And what happened next?’

  ‘Well, when he came back he said it was OK. I put it in the machine and paid the bill.’

  ‘When you passed it over to him, did you tell him the pin number?’

  Peter looked rather sheepish. ‘I’m afraid I did,’ he said. ‘The man said that he needed that to check with the bank.’

  ‘I bet he did,’ the manager said cynically. ‘Well, since you haven’t handed your cards over to the courier today I don’t think you have very much to worry about, Mrs Wilson. The bank will make good the money they have taken from your account. I would suggest, though, that you change your PIN just to be on the safe side. In future be very careful,’ he said, addressing Peter. ‘Never let anybody take your cards away from you on any pretext whatsoever.’

  As they came out of the bank Peter and Betty exchanged glances and then both of them started laughing.

  ‘That was a lucky escape,’ Betty commented. ‘Don’t you forget, Peter Brown, don’t you go handing my cards to anyone or telling them my pin number!’

  ‘Don’t you worry, I’ve learnt my lesson,’ Peter said. ‘Come on, let me take you for a drink to celebrate how well everything has turned out for us.’

  ‘At this time of day!’

  ‘Why not? We’ve had a very lucky escape. You could have lost all your money, but instead it’s safe and sound, and we’ve fooled the scammers. I’d like to see their faces when they open your envelope and find a load of rubbish inside.’

  ‘Thanks to your cleverness,’ Betty said admiringly.

  ‘Your trouble is you are too trusting. You think everyone is as sweet and honest as you are. You never think badly about anybody.’

  It was on the tip of Betty’s tongue to tell him what Mary had said and admit that for a brief moment she really had doubted him and wondered if he’d had anything to do with the money being withdrawn. Then common sense prevailed.

  ‘Alright,’ she said with a beaming smile, ‘we’ll have that drink to celebrate, but only a small one, mind. Why not,’ she added. ‘We’ve certainly got something to celebrate. We may be old, we may be doddery, but we are not stupid!’

  Five

  Betty Wilson couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned, changed her pillows round, took a drink of water, settled down again, but it was all to no avail. The events of the day were churning wildly in her head.

  So much had happened since Jeff had died. The constant nagging by her family that she wasn’t capable of looking after herself, and all of them in turn pointing out things she should have done but for some reason hadn’t, irritated her.

  She understood that they now felt responsible for her and that if they could persuade her to go into a home then they would feel they had nothing more to worry about, but she wasn’t having any of it. She considered the idea utterly ridiculous. She was fit and well apart from a few aches and pains but those were what you expected when you were in your late seventies.

  First, it had been the state of her home, then the work that needed doing in the garden, and now both Tim and Mary were trying to persuade her to sell the car.

  ‘I don’t want to sell it,’ she told them firmly.

  ‘Why not?’ Tim demanded. ‘You don’t drive it.’

  ‘I might do one day,’ Betty argued.

  ‘You’ve never driven it. Dad always drove wherever you went.’

  ‘He liked driving, and he didn’t like being a passenger,’ Betty told him.

  ‘You’ve never driven it,’ Mary argued, backing up her brother.

  ‘No, not that car, but all the other cars we’ve had.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ Tim persisted. ‘I don’t remember you ever driving.’

  ‘How about the school runs?’ Betty argued back. ‘I used to take you to school and pick you up.’

  That comment had shut him up, but what with one thing and another all the arguing was making her life unbearable.

  She went through in her mind again the business of the ladder slipping and making her
cut through the cable of the hedge strimmer. Had it been in that order, or had she cut through the cable and had a small electric shock and then lost her balance and fallen?

  She would never know for certain, either way she supposed she had been lucky, but it had certainly undermined her confidence.

  ‘Lucky, when I broke my arm,’ she muttered out loud.

  She turned over and tried to sleep but it was no good. Although she had put the accident out of her mind she was now thinking about the way she had nearly fallen for the scam which might have ended up with her losing every penny she possessed. That would have given the family something to berate her about.

  Then again, she had been exceedingly lucky and she had Peter to thank for that. She would never have thought of putting false cards into the envelope. That had saved the day and her money, there was no doubt at all about that. Two heads could certainly be better than one when it came to sorting out a problem.

  That was the difference between her family and Peter. They nagged; he did something useful. Either he took over and did the job himself, or cleverly guided her on what she ought to do.

  She really should be grateful to him, she thought guiltily. The trouble was that she was afraid to thank him or praise him because he might then take it as a sign that she was weakening, and she didn’t want to be taken over completely by him.

  Why was he so keen to move in with her, she wondered. He had no problems looking after himself. He was a reasonably good cook, took housework in his stride, and when it came to odd jobs and doing things in the garden, or in the house, he tackled them all efficiently.

  Was he lonely? She wondered. Was that the reason he was so keen to move in with her? True, the evenings were long during the winter months, and half the stuff on the television was not worth watching. Sometimes she switched that off and turned to the radio. Some of their plays were good, but it wasn’t much fun listening on your own because you had no one to talk about the programme with afterwards.