Summer Daydreams (34 page)
After calming my breathing, I pick up the phone and call the bank to speak to Simon North, my business manager. We exchange pleasantries and then I ask him to make the transfer. Moments later, he tells me it’s done. My money – the bank’s money – is now winging its way across cyberspace to the United States of America and, more importantly, the coffers of the Home Mall Shopping Channel. Soon my consignment of handbags will be following it. Hey!
Consignment
! Did I think I’d ever be throwing that word into conversation as a fish and chip lady, eh?
When the deed is done, I collapse back and sip my water. Then a wave of euphoria crashes over me, sweeping away my dread and nausea.
That’s it. I’m on my way. Perhaps Olly and I can have a sandwich together at lunchtime and toast our good fortune with a frothy cappuccino. Maybe I’ll pop into the chippy this afternoon and see how everyone is. The doorbell of the shop door chimes and breaks into my musing. With my grin still firmly in place, I go to see who it is.
I’m surprised to see Tod standing there.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Good timing. I was just going to break out the kettle for a cup of celebratory tea.’
Then I notice that the expression on his face is grim.
‘What’s wrong?’
His dull eyes meet mine when he says, ‘You may not be celebrating when you hear what I’ve got to tell you.’ He holds up a rumpled newspaper and shakes his head.
‘This is not good news, is it?’
‘No.’
And my heart sinks right into my boots.
‘You’d better sit down, Nell,’ Tod says.
Without protest, I go back to my computer chair and drop into it. My mentor pulls up another chair and sits opposite me.
‘No tea?’
Tod shakes his head. ‘We’ll need some in a minute.’
His face says that I actually may need more than tea. Much more.
He spreads out the newspaper on the desk in front of me. ‘I bought this first thing this morning, but I’ve only just had the chance to read it. I came straight round here as soon as I saw it.’
The column is tucked away on the left-hand side of page fifteen. The small, insignificant headline reads ‘Shopping Channel Scam’ and I know that in my heart of hearts, before I need to read another single word, that I’ve been had. Royally, truly, had.
Tears fill my eyes and I struggle to read the piece through the blur. Fat, wet droplets splash onto the type. Tod reaches out and takes my hand and squeezes it tightly.
Sure enough the perpetrator of this fraud is the one, the only, Home Mall. There’s a blurry picture of Lola Cody and she’s not the slick, sharp-suited business woman with a killer manicure and GHD hairdo that I’d imagined. She’s fat, robed in grubby sweats and a shapeless, tent-sized T-shirt. Next to her is an equally waddly man in a Hawaiian shirt with a bad combover; Mr Benito Cody, the newspaper informs me – if those are even their real names. Not only Lola’s partner in crime, but her husband, I presume.
The article goes on to say that Home Mall have been operating this scam for several months now. A dozen or more businesses have been taken down by them. The deposits are sent, the stock delivered and both mysteriously disappear without trace. I feel vomit rising to my mouth, but I force it down.
‘I’m sorry,’ Tod says. ‘This is the first time I’ve heard about it. There’s been nothing in the trade papers, nothing from the Department of Trade and Industry. Usually, we’d hear
something
on the grapevine. Apparently, they’re such professional operators that no one has suspected anything until now.’
Tell me about it. I was totally taken in by Lola Cody’s easy charm and friendliness. She even invited me to go there on holiday with Olly and Petal, for heaven’s sake! She knew that this meant the world to me, that it was going to mean a new start for our family. She knew that in order to scam me, she’d be taking food out of my child’s mouth. She knew all this! The woman can have no heart, no soul, and certainly no conscience. I was stupid to be seduced by the fact that out of all the handbags in the world, she wanted mine. Olly said that it sounded too good to be true – and he was right. I should have listened to him. I should have listened to his doubts, but I didn’t and the deed has been done. Have I learned nothing from having my designs ripped off by
Monsieur
Yves Simoneaux? Though his nasty little trick looks like amateur hour compared to the set-up of Home Mall.
‘I know this was your dream.’
Was
. Already past tense.
Still staring at the newspaper page, I let the tears fall. The editor may feel that this story only warrants a small column, a tiny headline, but with it a vacuum has just opened up and swallowed my life.
‘I was so sure,’ Tod frets. ‘So sure. The contract looked above board. The website was professional. Everything seemed fine. So believable.’
I never suspected that someone would create something so elaborate, that they would go to so much trouble to perpetrate a fraud. It’s beyond my imagination. Still is. However hard I find it to believe, the golden goose, it seems, was nothing more than a mirage. Something created with smoke and mirrors to lure in the susceptible.
‘It looks like she’s done this several times before.’ He sighs heavily. ‘Pull out now,’ Tod says. ‘It’s not too late.’
Looking up, I realise that Tod doesn’t know how far this has gone. He knew I was going to China, but I’ve not yet had the chance to update him since I’ve been back. He doesn’t realise that the money has already been transferred to Lola Cody’s bank account, which could be in the Cayman Islands for all I know.
‘It
is
too late,’ I tell him. He looks at me blankly.
‘The bags are ordered and have been paid for up front.’ An inordinate amount of money. ‘I transferred the deposit to Home Mall not half an hour ago.’ Thirty thousand dollars. The best part of twenty thousand pounds. My head swims and I clutch the desk with my free hand. ‘I’d just put the phone down to my bank manager when you came in.’
Tod recoils. ‘Stop it,’ he says. ‘You must be able to stop it. Get onto the bank right away.’
I slip my hand from Tod’s and with trembling fingers and the dead weight of fear dragging down my hope, I punch in the bank’s number again.
I feel the blood drain from my face and I hang up. ‘Gone,’ I say. ‘Once the button has been pushed at this end, there’s nothing I can do.’
‘
Nothing
?’ Tod questions.
‘The business manager at the bank said that although it will take three or four days to clear into Lola Cody’s account, there’s nothing I can do to block the transfer. Once it’s gone, it’s gone.’
‘That can’t be right.’
‘Apparently it is.’
‘But that’s ridiculous.’
Ridiculous. Unfair. Downright cruel. All of those things. I could rant all day, but nothing I could say would change bank policy. Simon North at least had the good grace to be embarrassed. Somewhere my money is whirling around in the banking system heading to a crook and there’s not a single thing I can do to stop it. If they can push a button to send it, why isn’t there another one to stop it? Particularly when we’re all aware now that the transaction is fraudulent? In this day and age of high technology, you wouldn’t think it was that difficult, would you?
‘He said that all that I can do is start legal action,’ I offer.
‘Assuming that we can find Lola Cody, that this isn’t all false and there’s no one of that name at all.’ But I have to say that Simon North didn’t sound very hopeful. Frankly, he didn’t sound like he cared that much at all. Whatever happens,
he’ll
get his money back. I’ll be paying off the loan for the rest of my natural life, but you can bet your bottom dollar that the bank won’t be the losers in this.
Taking legal action seems very unlikely. Besides, how much will it cost to pursue? We don’t have any more money to engage in an expensive legal battle. That could cost us thousands. Thousands that we now don’t have thanks to Lola Cody and her husband. I shake my head. ‘I don’t think I’ll be seeing that money again, Tod.’
My brain reels at the statement. I sound so matter-of-fact. Shouldn’t I be lying on the floor and screaming, renting my hair asunder?
‘Surely there’s something we can do?’
‘My only hope now is to stop the handbags. If the factory won’t cancel the order, then I hope I can stop them being shipped to the USA and can divert the handbags to come here.’ It will leave me with an enormous amount of stock and I’ll have to pay to warehouse them but at least I’ll have them in my hot, sweaty hands and they won’t be in Lola Cody’s.
‘I should call her.’ Give her a piece of my mind. And not a nice piece.
Tod nods. ‘Want that tea before you do?’
‘Yes. Please. You know where everything is?’
‘I’ll find it.’ He squeezes my shoulder as he passes. ‘I feel I’ve let you down, Nell. I’m your business mentor. I should have advised you against this.’
‘It sounded perfect. We both thought so.’
‘I should have been more cautious or realised that there was something not right about it.’
‘How? They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make this look professional and above board.’ But then they stood to make a lot of money. ‘It’s not your fault, Tod.’ If it’s anyone’s fault it’s mine for rushing headlong into this deal without taking a step back. ‘It’s just bloody awful timing.’
‘We’ll sort this out,’ he says. ‘Don’t worry.’
But I don’t think we’ll sort it out and I am worried.
While I pick up the phone, Tod goes up to the flat to make some tea. The number that I have for Lola Cody and the Home Mall goes straight to a voicemail message.
‘This number has not been recognised,’ it says. ‘Please dial again.’ I hold the phone to my ear while it repeats it over and over again. ‘This number has not been recognised. Please dial again.’
I thought it was only good news that travelled fast? Seems as if bad news does too. Lola must already have got wind that her scam had been exposed. I wonder whether she knew when I spoke to her earlier and if she thought she’d just give it one last go at taking in another gullible sucker? If only I hadn’t been so quick to set the ball rolling. If only I’d sat back and taken time to do this. If only I hadn’t been so trusting. If only I hadn’t been so blindly ambitious. If only. If only. If only.
When Tod finally leaves – even though he was reluctant to go – I turn my face to the sky and howl. The floodgates open and I let a torrent of tears flow.
I have lost everything.
Everything
. How can I possibly carry on?
By the time Olly returns with Petal, I have managed to get myself under control again. Where there was rage and anger, a dull numbness has settled in.
‘What?’ Olly says when he sees my puffy face and redrimmed eyes. ‘Who’s died?’
‘My business,’ I tell him flatly. ‘Everything I’ve worked for, gone.’
He recoils slightly at that, but says, ‘Gone? You can’t mean that.’