ago with your son Thomas.’
‘Now, just wait a minute,’ said the man, starting to stand up as Joyce shook her head fearfully.
I racked my brain trying to remember what she’d called me. My real name wouldn’t mean anything to her. ‘I’m . . . Helen,’ I said, remembering. ‘I was here with Thomas. We spoke about Frank and The Beatles. You told me how you’d sneak out of the house so that your dad didn’t see you in your miniskirt.’
‘Okay, that’s enough,’ said the man, grabbing my arm tightly and hauling me up.
‘Joyce, I was here with him,’ I screamed as he pulled me away. ‘You called for help. You said it was him. You kept saying, “He’s here.”’
I felt the grip on my arm tighten. ‘Please Joyce. Try to remember.’
‘Who were you here with?’ asked Ben Forrester, his nostrils flared.
‘I don’t know,’ I said, sobbing as the truth of the words sunk in. ‘I honestly don’t know.’
29
Mum took one look at me and ushered me into the hallway.
‘What on earth has happened?’ she asked, putting her arm around my back.
‘I can’t . . . I just can’t . . .’
‘Calm down,’ she soothed as she walked me into the kitchen. ‘Here, sit down.’ She moved a pile of interior magazines to the side of the table, each neatly marked-up with Post-it notes.
I felt my heart break.
‘It’s Thomas . . .’ I sobbed.
She pulled me to her and held my head against her stomach, rocking me gently. ‘Darling, what is it? What’s happened?’ I briefly wondered how she couldn’t guess, but if she’d had that kind of cynical mind, then she would never have agreed to this crazy plan in the first place. Or had I agreed to it on her behalf? It certainly felt like it.
‘He’s gone,’ I choked. ‘He’s gone with all the money.’
The rocking stopped abruptly and she held me away from her, staring at me, her eyes unblinking. I could only imagine the vice-like grip that was squeezing her insides, making her feel as if she couldn’t breathe.
‘What . . . what do you mean?’ she faltered. ‘What are you saying?’
‘He’s a conman, Mum. He duped me, then you, into believing that he was doing it for us . . . that he had our best interests at heart.’
‘Where is he?’ she asked matter-of-factly.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, where does he live? That might be a good place to start.’ There was an acerbic tone to her voice. An accusatory edge. ‘Had you thought of that? He can’t just disappear into thin air, can he?’
My head fell into my hands. ‘I don’t know where he lives.’
‘What do you mean, you don’t know where he lives?’ she asked coldly. ‘You’ve been seeing him for months.’
‘I’ve never been to his place,’ I admitted.
She threw her arms up in the air before taking herself off and circling around the kitchen, deep in thought.
I knew the question was coming, even before she asked it.
‘So, where does he work then?’ she said eventually.
‘He didn’t have an office. He could work from anywhere – as long as he had his mobile phone.’
‘And you thought that all this made him seem like a good bet?’ she asked, her voice rising. ‘I honestly can’t believe what I’m hearing.’
Her disappointment in me was palpable, which hurt so much more than my broken heart, or the stolen money.
I remembered the last time I’d disappointed her. I was fourteen and she’d found a cigarette in the pocket of my school blazer. I’d wanted her to ground me. I’d wanted her to scream at me. But all she said was, You’ve let me down. It was the worst possible punishment and I vowed I’d never disappoint her again. And I hadn’t, not until today.
‘I will fix this,’ I said, a sudden fury bursting out of me. How dare he come into my life like a wrecking ball, destroying everything I hold dear?
Mum fell down dejectedly onto a chair. ‘And how do you intend to do that?’
Despite everything, I foolishly believed that she would find the solution. Like she always had. In my mind, she was the adult and I was the child, so I naively hadn’t expected the question and the onus to fall to me.
‘I will not let him get away with this,’ I said. ‘I will track him down and make him pay for what he’s done.’
Mum sat there, sadly shaking her head. ‘It could have been worse,’ she said, in barely more than a whisper. ‘There could