‘Oi, mind your language. He’s not a little shit. He’s a lovely kind chap from Manchester, and I’m sure there’s been no scamming anyone’s mam.’
‘Are you for real? I’m telling Dad, and if necessary, he’ll come out there and drag you back and bring you to your senses.’
‘I don’t want your dad knowing anything about this. It’s none of his business.’
‘Well, I’m telling him. We have to protect you,’ says Poppy.
‘Donottell your father. It’s nothing to do with him or anyone else.’
‘Yes, it is if you’re about to be scammed and he could do anything to you if you don’t give him what he wants. Oh my god, Mam, what have you got yourself into?’ says Jasmine.
‘He’s done nothing wrong. Don’t be so dramatic. Have you been watching those Netflix shows again?’
‘This is how it starts, Mam. I’m telling you now. This is only the beginning. He’ll have your flat in the marina next. You’ll be waving goodbye to it as he takes everything,’ says Jasmine.
‘Oh, you are a silly billy. He’s not after any money. He’s got a decent job. He works for rich people and…’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. Heard it all before. Scammer material right there,’ says Jasmine.
‘Oh, there’s no talking to you two when you’re like this. Let’s just agree to disagree.’
‘This is deffo how they start. Loan you a bit of money and then take ten times that from you… Only the other day I was watching this story, right? And this woman met a man she thought was a high-ranking general in the US army and then…’
‘Look, I’m not stupid. I know all those stories. Besides, those types of scammers don’t even exist in real life. Those are someone hiding behind a screen. I’ve met this chap in real life. Believe me, I promise… It’s nothing like that. I’m sorry I told you now.’
‘No, I’m glad you did tell us. We need to know these things so we can protect you. She’s getting older now, isn’t she, Poppy? She might get some kind of dementia and sign everything over to him next,’ says Jasmine.
‘Will you two stop!’
My menopausal rage starts to rise up again with the two of them. Oh, they know how to push my buttons.
‘Well, it’s only the truth, Mam,’ says Poppy.
‘Right, that’s it. I’m going now because I’m off on the yacht. I’ll message you both later.’
‘What? You’re not serious,’ says Jasmine.
‘Yes, very serious. Bye girls, speak later.’
The truth is that Elias hasn’t even messaged me yet, so there are no firm arrangements, but they provoked me so much I didn’t want to tell them that.
I put the phone down and search in the fridge for the nice bits I picked up in the supermarket. I start off with Soraya’s suggestion of a fresh orange juice and a huge croissant that I warm under the grill.
Out on the balcony, as the sun shines down on me, I tell myself that everything will be fine. At least I don’t have to put up with the dramatic moments from the girls when I am away. I’ll keep my contact with them to a minimum for a few days. This is me time. I am going to have an inspirational holiday, and I am finally going to get some words down on that blank page of mine.
I watch the people down below who look like ants walking about the marina. I wonder where they are all going. Are they all just millionaires from birth, or do any of them work hard to scrape by?
I have just pulled out my trusty notebook to start work when my phone bleeps.
My heart misses a beat as I realise it’s Elias asking if he can collect me at eleven a.m. to take me to the yacht. His offer comes as a welcome distraction to plotting ideas. So, I rush off to wash my hair, even though it will no doubt be wrecked by the sea breeze. I must try around three different shades of lipstick before I am finally ready to meet Elias, even though I tell myself this is a research trip and it really doesn’t matter what I look like. Still, I twiddle my long, mousy hair around until I have the perfect curls that peep out from under my borrowed panama hat, which will hopefully protect my hair from frizzing up in the breeze.
‘That’ll do,’ I say to my reflection in the huge floor-to-ceiling mirror of the master bedroom.
When I hear the beep of a horn outside, I jump and try to calm my breathing as I open the door to see Elias’s little Fiat.
‘Good morning, Lucy,’ says Elias as I jump into the passenger seat.
‘Morning.’ I smile at Elias as he gives me one of his charming broody looks that make him so handsome in a craggy, masculine sort of way.
