Not Quite Nice (25 page)

Now Sally felt very lucky.

The burglars had not picked her house to turn over.

21

When she went out early to get her morning loaf, Theresa saw Jessica strolling along the seafront in deep conversation with Ted.

She gave them a little wave but they were so engrossed that they didn’t even notice her.

She watched them turn into a street heading up towards the Old Town, and then she sat alone on the sea wall for a little while, watching a pair of fishermen coming in and offloading their early morning catch. She looked at the swimmers out in the bay, and the sunbathers putting up their umbrellas and rolling out their towels on the patch where only the other day Imogen had been playing so happily with her children.

She wondered where Brian was now. Was he thinking of her? Would they meet again soon? Would it go further, maybe turn into a romance or even a marriage?

She was interrupted from her reveries by her mobile phone ringing in her handbag.

It was Imogen.

‘It’s your fault!’ she cried. ‘Why did we ever come out to horrible France? It must have been that dump of a vile brasserie on the seafront. I thought that waiter had a shifty look about him. The whole place is crammed with crooks and criminals.’

‘I’m sorry, Imogen,’ said Theresa, interrupting the deluge of vitriol emanating from the phone. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘My bank,’ snapped Imogen. ‘I’ve been cleaned out. Someone cloned my debit card. They’ve taken thousands.’

Theresa’s heart skipped a beat. ‘It happened here?’ she asked.

‘Yes. According to the bank,’ said Imogen. ‘I’ve been on the phone to them for the last two hours, trying to go through everything. The first use of it, the card, was at that nasty brasserie next door to you.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course I’m bloody sure,’ Imogen yelled down the phone. Theresa had to hold the receiver away from her ear. ‘All of the other withdrawals happened in Nice, Antibes and Monte Carlo.’

‘But we didn’t go to Antibes or Monte Carlo.’

‘Exactly,’ said Imogen. ‘Anyway I can’t talk now. I have to get on to the insurance company and the police, and everyone else. I’ve got a day from Hell ahead and I am so angry with you.’

Theresa spoke, apologising, but realised that Imogen had cut her off.

With a dry mouth, she sat holding the phone in both hands and taking deep breaths. Should she go into the brasserie, where only last night she had been so happy drinking with Brian, and tell them there might be a thief among their staff, or should she leave it to Imogen and the police to deal with?

Theresa decided against making waves. After all, no one knew for sure that it was definitely the waiters in the bar who cloned the card. Theresa decided to warn her friends to be careful, but before doing anything else to wait till the police or bank report might pin down the culprit more surely.

As soon as she was dressed, Sally phoned Faith asking whether she needed any help, but Faith told her that Alfie was being wonderful and that she was fine. ‘It was only things,’ she said. ‘No one was hurt.’

But Sally felt on edge, nonetheless, and when her front doorbell rang, she jumped.

Sian stood on the threshold. ‘Came in on the red-eye,’ she said. ‘Ted is out, probably fiddling about with the boat and I’m still on Los Angeles time, so I’m ready for a late-night cocktail.’

‘You’ll only get tea, I’m afraid,’ said Sally inviting her inside. ‘It’s already on the table.’

Sian slumped into a chair. ‘I hear that in my absence Ted’s been a very good boy.’

Sally thought of all his flirting with Jessica at Theresa’s Cookery Club, and said nothing, but made a fuss with the teapot, pouring out the tea, going into the cupboards for biscuits.

‘It’s been rather cheering to hear how good he’s been.’ Sian opened her bag and laid her mobile phone on the table. ‘My secret assistant is a hundred times better than anyone I’ve ever employed,’ she said. ‘I adore her.’

Sally wondered whether she should tell Sian that the very girl she appeared to be paying to keep an eye on Ted was the one with whom he seemed to be philandering. She decided against it, and instead told her about the burglaries at Faith’s house and next door.

‘Albanians,’ snapped Sian. ‘They come in through Italy. It’s the downside of being part of the European Union.’

Again Sally knew she had to change the subject.

‘How was Los Angeles?’

‘Same old same old,’ said Sian with a yawn. ‘How’s your son? Glad to have him back?’

Sally decided not to elaborate on the details of Tom’s dirty weekend with Zoe, so just said yes, and suggested that after Sian caught up with a little sleep they met up for lunch later on the terrace of the brasserie.

Theresa paced around her flat, fretting about Imogen’s loss. She prayed the bank would be able to sort it all out and that anything they couldn’t do would be covered by Imogen and Michael’s insurance policy.

She also decided that she
would
go down to the brasserie and have a sharp talk with the manager.

Just as she was heading for the front door her phone rang again. It was Brian.

‘I’d like to take you to lunch. How about it?’

‘I can’t really. Imogen had her bank card cloned. I have to have words with the manager at the brasserie.’

Brian told Theresa that he would help. The man must be spoken to firmly, he said. These people paid more attention to other men. It was even more reason why they should take lunch together.

Theresa spent half an hour changing, putting on make-up and choosing suitable afternoon jewellery and still arrived early for her luncheon date.

The brasserie was already quite full. David and Carol were sitting happily chatting at a table in the sun. Carol looked radiant, and as she and Theresa caught eyes, she threw her head back in a deep laugh at something David said. Clearly the contretemps of the last few days had blown over, which was a relief to see.

Theresa wondered whether she should say something immediately to the maître d’ about the cloned bank card, or wait till Brian was there to help.

She decided to go inside and have a quick word on her own. The manager told her that every restaurant along the coast and throughout the world had this kind of thing happen. He could check through the receipts but all it would show would be what she already knew. Waiters here brought the card machine to the table, they never took the card away, so they didn’t have time to clone it. Someone may have used the proper card or the cloned card here but it was nothing to do with the restaurant – and he was very sorry for her loss.

She realised he was right. She made her way out into the sunshine. Just as Theresa got herself comfortable at the table for two, she noticed that, since she’d gone inside, Sally had taken one of the corner tables on the terrace and she sat chatting with William, Ted and the dreaded Sian. Sian was facing her way. Theresa didn’t want a scene with the woman coming over here and giving her another slap, so she got up and changed places, now sitting with her back to the others, facing the sea.

She watched a large motor cruiser set down anchor, and some kids near the shore messing about on surfboards. A row of people in T-shirts sat on the sea wall, as though waiting for a coach to arrive. A gaggle of tourists passed close by on her side of the street, following a guide holding up a blue and white stick, cameras at the ready. One man was actually holding up his video camera, filming everything as he walked along.

As she picked up the menu, Theresa wondered how many times that man would actually watch his film of a normal street scene full of strangers.

She glanced at her watch, noticing that Brian was now a few minutes late. She wondered where he had to come from. Central Nice perhaps, or further afield? Would he move back in to her house if their friendship progressed, or was it more sensible to keep a romantic distance?

It was nice to daydream.

As she lay the menu down again she recognised Jessica sitting on the sea wall in the middle of the group of tourists. She too was holding up a camera, taking pictures of the brasserie, it seemed. Theresa gave a smile for the camera, at the same moment Brian loomed over her.

Blushing, she scrambled to her feet as he stooped to kiss her hand.

‘Good day to you, my dear.’ He sat down opposite her, facing back towards the other tables and flicked open his napkin. ‘If I may say so, you’re looking ravishing today, Theresa.’ He picked up the menu. ‘I thought I’d speak to the manager about your daughter’s problem after we eat,’ he said. We don’t want them spitting on to our plates, do we? Now, what’ll we have?’

He raised his hand for the waiter, and, while Theresa studied her menu, Brian whispered into the waiter’s ear.

A few moments later an ice bucket arrived, with a bottle of champagne.

‘There we are,’ said Brian, grinning as the waiter uncorked the bottle. ‘A bubbly drink for an effervescent lady.’ He held up his glass for a toast. ‘May all of our wishes come true.’

Theresa turned to see whether anyone else had noticed the champagne arrive. She caught Carol giving Brian a surreptitious wink. They had obviously concocted the idea together last night.

How wonderful.

She too raised her glass and, looking into Brian’s eyes, repeated: ‘May all of our wishes come true.’

As the dessert plates were placed on the table, Brian said ‘There’s a little something I need to do this afternoon, and I’m going to be rather cheeky and ask Carol if she wouldn’t mind driving me up to La Turbie.’

‘I’ve always wanted to go there,’ said Theresa. ‘To see the Roman Trophy.’

Brian gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘Not today, I’m afraid. Let’s just say there’s a little something I saw in a jewellery shop up there. A gift for a special lady. So I hope to see you later when I’ve got . . . what I’m off to get, as it were.’

Theresa blushed.

Was he going to buy a ring, perhaps? When he came back might he propose to her?

‘I was thinking, Brian.’ Theresa was flustered. ‘Can you give me your mobile number again? ’

‘Sure. Lovely new smartphone. Look!’ He held up the latest model – in green. ‘Do you have a pen?’

Theresa rooted about in her handbag. She pulled out a notebook, but only came up with a pencil with a broken lead. ‘Oh dear . . .’

Moments later Carol and David rose to go, leaving William alone at the table. Theresa saw the pair stop for a few brief words with Sally, Sian and Ted, then they passed through the space by their table.

Fumbling in his pockets for a pen, Brian stood. ‘Carol, a few weeks ago you said if we ever needed your car . . .’

Carol laughed. ‘And I suppose you’re asking me to drive you somewhere this afternoon?’

Brian winced. ‘If it wouldn’t inconvenience you too much.’

‘But I was going to . . .’ Carol turned to her husband. ‘Oh Lord. You don’t mind do you, David, darling? Look, why don’t you go back to William and the pair of you polish off the rest of that bottle while I whisk Brian off to wherever it is he wants me to go?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘It would have to be right away, Brian.’

Brian glanced down at Theresa.

‘Oops! Sorry about lunch. But you understand, Theresa, I know.’

Brian handed her a pen and as he recited the number, Theresa wrote it down.

As she looked up to hand him back the pen Theresa noticed that Jessica was still there over the road, taking pictures. She waved again.

‘Who are you waving at?’ asked Carol.

‘It’s Jessica, look. She’s taking pictures of us.’

Brian put a hand up to cover his face. ‘Let’s be off,’ he said.

Theresa held out the pen, but Brian was already walking briskly away.

‘Hey, what’s the hurry?’ Carol put out her arm in a jokey way and said ‘Be a gent, Brian, and lead me to my carriage.’

Theresa slipped the pen into her bag. She could return it to Brian this evening when he returned with the jewellery.

Then, taking the long way round to avoid direct sightline with Sian, she took the champagne bucket and edged round the tables to join David and William, who whooped.

Sian saw her arrive at the next table, and made a point of getting up and leaving. Ted shrugged and leaned back in his chair.

‘I’m not going anywhere, my love,’ he said to his wife.

‘Sally!’ barked Sian.

Sheepishly, Sally rose. She was torn, but chose to go with Sian. As she stepped out into the street she too noticed Jessica and her camera.

‘Why do you need photos of us all?’ she asked Sian.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ snapped Sian as she strutted away.

Ted shrugged, then slipped from his table to join Theresa and the men.

‘I wonder why she’s staying over there, taking pictures of us all, ’ said Theresa, looking in Jessica’s direction.

‘Oh, that one?’ said Ted. ‘If you ask me, she’s got nits in the network. Always asking bloody questions. She’s driven me up the wall.’