I happened to overhear a conversation between my wife and her mate, and the reason she married me finally clicked.
Honestly, how long are you going to keep squeezing my tits, Beth? Im sorry for being blunt, but Ive run out of patience! This is a proper scam, you hear me? Do you know what a scam is? Thomas paced the spacious sittingroom, constantly fixing his perfectly slickedback hair. Nigels giving us a chance to get in on a development at the groundfloor stage. In a year the flats will have doubled in value. Well put in ten million pounds and pull out twenty.
Beth sank into a deep armchair, cradling a mug of lukewarm tea. She wanted to close her eyes and listen to the silence, but Thomas had been denying her that luxury for the past fortnight.
Thomas, ten million pounds is all the cash I have spare. Its my companys safety net. If something goes wrong I wont be able to pay the staff or buy fabric. You know the seasons coming school uniforms, then Christmas parties
Your ragshop again! Thomas rolled his eyes dramatically. Beth, youre a clever businesswoman, not a seamstress. Your workshop isnt going anywhere. This kind of opportunity only comes once in a lifetime. Nigels my best mate; he wouldnt push a shoddy deal on us. Hes putting his own money in too.
Beth sighed. She loved Thomas his youthful energy, his gleaming eyes, the way he could spin a charming line and treat her like royalty. When they met three years ago she was fortyfive, he thirtyseven. She owned a chain of tailoring ateliers and a modest garment factory, used to carrying the whole load herself. Her first husband had left her for a younger woman, taking their teenage son and a mountain of debt. Shed clawed her way out, built a business, raised the boy. Then Thomas appeared polite, fun, never demanding she become a steel lady and she melted.
He worked as a sales manager for a construction firm; he wasnt a star, but Beth didnt mind. What mattered was that he greeted her after work with a hot dinner, gave flowers for no reason, and whisked her off on seaside holidays.
Lately his projects had grown more aggressive. First he wanted a pricey car to match the status of a business owners wife, then he pushed crypto investments. Now it was a building site.
Tom, let me think it over, alright? I need to check the paperwork and talk to a solicitor.
Which solicitor? Your oldtime Boris Ignatius? He lives in the last century! Hell tell you to stash cash under the mattress. Beth, we need to act fast. Tomorrows the last day we can lock in this price. Nigels already holding the reservation for us.
Thomas knelt before her, taking her hands in his warm, soft palms.
Beth, trust me. Im trying to secure a better future for us. So you can stop working all day and actually relax. Well build a house, travel. For our future.
She looked into his rich brown eyes, yearning to believe him, to believe he truly cared, not just after easy money.
Fine, she whispered. Ill go to the bank tomorrow morning, but I need time to organise the transfer.
Youre brilliant! Thomas leapt up, hoisting her into his arms and twirling her around despite her feeble protests. Youll see, well be millionaires! Ill call Nigel right now and give him the good news!
The next day Beth did go to the bank not to withdraw cash but to verify accounts. A quiet voice in her head, the same one that once warned her against signing a shady supplier contract, whispered, Dont rush.
The day turned chaotic. First the main sewing machine broke down, then the tax office showed up for a routine audit. Beth ran like a hamster on a wheel, signing forms, calming the tailors. By evening her head throbbed as if hammered.
She decided to head home early, skipping the office for her laptop. All she wanted was a hot bath and some rest.
Pulling into the driveway she spotted an unfamiliar black SUV by the entrance. Probably a neighbour, she thought, parking her car.
The flat was quiet. She slipped the key into the lock, the livingroom murmuring with low voices and clinking glasses.
Strange, Tom never mentioned visitors, she thought, about to shout Im home! but something held her back. The tone was not that of guests it was too relaxed, too loud.
She slipped off her shoes, tiptoed down the hallway, and peered into the slightly ajar livingroom door.
Well, look at that! Did you finally get her on board? a rough, hoarse laugh boomed. Beth recognised Nigels voice, the business associate.
Exactly! Thomas answered smugly, sounding nothing like he ever spoke to her. I told you the trick a bit of whining about our future, a few compliments, get her on her knees, and shell transfer the money tomorrow.
Beth pressed her back against the wall, her heart thudding in her throat.
Ten million? Nigel asked.
Ten. Shell empty the account clean. That fool. She really thinks were building some fancy complex.
The complex will exist only in our dreams, Nigel snorted. She wont see through it? The paperwork?
No paperwork! Shes clueless. Ill slip her a loan agreement for a oneday company, shell sign it. She trusts me like a saint. Shes head over heels. Listen to her call me Tommy. Ugh.
A bottle was being poured.
For your acting talent! Nigel toasted. Dont you feel a bit sick? Shes a decent lady, wellkept.
Wellkept look at her neck, her hands. No amount of cream can fix that. Every night I lie in bed and picture Selina. By the way, Selinas already packing. As soon as the cash lands, were off to Bali. Ill tell Beth Im heading to the site, and Ill be gone. Shell be so busy she wont notice.
Hardnosed, Nigel chuckled, almost admiring. What if she reports us?
She wont. Shes proud. Shed never admit a young golddigger swindled her. The loan will look legit, just a bankrupt firm. Business risk, love.
Beths legs gave way, she slid down the wall onto the floor. A cold seeped into her bones, as if ice had replaced her blood. Every word Thomas had whispered the night before the kiss on her hand, the promise hammered into her mind like a hot nail. Three years shed lived in a dream, thinking this was happiness, when it was just a longterm investment with a final asset dump.
She wanted to rush into the room, fling the table, grab his face and tear that smug grin off, scream until the windows shattered.
But she stayed still. Decades of running a business, dealing with gangsters in the nineties and officials in the 2000s had forged steel in her spine. Hysteria was a weapon for the enemy; it showed weakness. She was no weakling.
Breathing slowly, she rose, grabbed her shoes, and slipped out as silently as she had entered.
On the landing she called the lift, descended, and got into her car. Her hands trembled on the wheel, but her mind was terrifyingly clear.
Bali. Selina. Oneday firm, she thought, looking out at the windows of her flat where two vultures were feasting on her skin.
She started the engine and drove not to her mothers for a sob, nor to a friends, but to the office. Inside the safe lay her passport, incorporation documents, and the company seal.
Two hours later she was home with bags of takeaway food and a bottle of pricey brandy. She slammed the door, dropped her keys, and clattered the bags.
Tommy! Im home! she shouted, her voice ringing with triumph.
Thomass dishevelled head popped out of the livingroom, a forced smile flickering with a flash of fear.
Beth! Youre early. Weve got a meeting with Nigel, celebrating your wise decision.
She swept into the room, beaming.
Oh, Nigel, good to see you! Ive just bought something delicious, lets celebrate!
Nigel, a bulky man with darting eyes, rose to meet her.
Mrs. Margaret, my respects! Glad youre with us. Thomas said you agreed? Thats proper. Big money loves the decisive.
Yes, Ive thought it through, Margaret began placing containers of food on the table. Enough of lingering over gold. We must grow. Thomas opened my eyes.
She leaned over, kissed his cheek. He tensed then relaxed.
Youre my clever one, he purred, wrapping an arm around her waist. I knew youd stand by me.
Of course, darling. Tomorrow we head to the bank. Ive ordered cash. Its safer than transfers with fees. Ill withdraw everything and hand it to Nigel under a receipt.
Nigels eyes glittered greedily.
Cash perfect! Thats how we do it. Respect.
The evening blurred into a haze. Margaret smiled, poured brandy for the men, listened to their toasts to a bright future. She stared at Thomas, wondering how shed missed the falsehood in his grin, the cold calculation in his eyes. Love truly blinds. Betrayal is a sharper optician.
When Nigel staggered out, humming a tune, Thomas hugged Margaret.
Ready for bed? Tomorrows big.
Yes, love. Go wash, Ill tidy up.
Lying beside the man whod plotted to ruin her, Margaret couldnt close her eyes. She heard his even breathing and, in her mind, said goodbye not to him, but to the trust shed placed in him the moment she heard his laugh behind the door. She was saying farewell to her own gullibility.
In the morning she woke him with a kiss.
Rise, millionaire! Moneys waiting.
Thomas sprang up, brighter than ever, donned his best suit, spritzed on cologne.
Ready! Beth, you got the passport?
Of course. All set.
Off they drove to the bank. Thomas chattered nonstop, dreaming up the house theyd build. Margaret nodded, staring out the window.
At the bank they were ushered into a VIP suite. A manager, a friend of Margarets, placed bundles of cash on the table ten million pounds, five thick packs.
Thomas stared at the money, mesmerised, his hands reaching for the stack.
Shall we sign the release? the manager asked.
Yes, Margaret said. Please process.
She signed the disbursement order. The cash slid into her briefcase.
All right, off to Nigels office! Thomas urged as they stepped outside. Hes waiting with the solicitor.
Hold on, Tommy, Margaret called, stopping beside her car. I have a surprise for you.
A surprise? What is it? he shifted anxiously. Beth, theres no time!
Its quick. Get in.
She opened the boot, hauled out a large sports suitcase, and set it on the pavement before him.
Whats that? Thomas asked, bewildered. Are we going to Bali right now?
Beth laughed, short and sharp.
Youre not. Where were you headed? To Selina? Or straight to mums?
Thomass face drained of colour.
Beth, what? Which Selina? What are you on about?
The Selina you promised to fly to on my money. The one you picture when you lie in bed saying as if work. I heard everything, Thomas. Yesterday, when I came home early.
Thomas opened his mouth, but no sound escaped. He looked like a fish flopping on the shore.
I heard every word old fool, the oneday company, how youll ditch me.
Beth, it was a joke! Nigel and I were just drunk! Youve got it all wrong! He lunged for her hand, but she pulled away.
Dont touch me. Never touch me again. In that suitcase are all your things your underwear, socks, those cheap suits you bought before me. Im taking the car its registered to the firm. Your cards, linked to my account, I blocked half an hour ago.
You cant! Were married! Half the money is mine!
The money? Margaret tapped the bag of cash. No, love. Thats the companys money. I withdrew it for business needs. You have no claim. As for our assets you told Nigel, Shell stay silent. Im not silent. Im clever. Ive already sent our solicitor, the oldtimer, a recording of your chat. Yes, theres a microphone in the livingroom. I installed it to watch the housekeeper, but it caught you.
Thomas staggered back. The mask of the loving husband fell, revealing a frightened, pitiful fraudster.
Beth, Im sorry! It was the devil! Nigel pushed me! I love you, really! Dont throw me out! I have nowhere to go!
Go to Selina. Maybe shell take you. Without money she wont need you.
Margaret got into her car, locked the doors, and rolled down the window.
Goodbye, Thomas. Divorce papers will be mailed to you. Dont even think about coming near me or my business. As you said, everythings under control. I might not send you to prison, but Ill ruin your life so that Bali only haunts you in nightmares.
She floored the accelerator, leaving her former husband standing in the car park, suitcase in one hand, emptiness in the other.
Margaret drove through town, tears streaming down her cheeks. It hurt terribly. Hopes shattered, faith in people crushed. Yet alongside the pain rose a strange relief.
Shed rid herself of a parasite, saved her enterprise, refused to be broken.
The suitcase of ten million pounds sat on the passenger seat.
Nothing, she thought, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Ill invest in new equipment. Buy those Japanese machines Ive always wanted. Then Ill take a holiday. By myself. Bali, maybe. Or better, Italy. Their men appreciate women of any age, not just their wallets.
That evening she sat at the kitchen table with her son, Arthur, now a grownup, listening intently.
Mum, Ill give him a good walloping, he said calmly, clenching his fist.
No, Arthur. No honour in that. Hes punished himself. Hes lost everything chasing a ghost. Weve got everything we need.
She poured herself tea, bit into a slice of cake from her own patisserieatelier shed opened a year ago, and for the first time in two days tasted food without anxiety.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Thomas: Beth, lets talk. Ill explain everything.
Margaret hit Block. She then opened her contacts, found Nigels number, and blacklisted him too.
Life went on. She promised herself to stay wonderful, because now there was no deceit left. Margaret Hughes knew it was better to be alone and strong than with someone who kept a fistful of cash in his pocket. Love would return, but next time shed check not just the heart but the passport and the credit history.
