Chapter Eleven
Gianni agrees that I can stay, but I decide not to tell Poppy and Jasmine that I am here for a while longer until it is too late to change my mind. I am glad I haven’t said anything yet, as when Soraya and Carol leave for the airport, I begin to get cold feet.
‘Would I have time to quickly pack up and come with you?’ I beg.
‘No. It’s for your own good. We know you’ll come back home with that best-seller worked out. Now, make the most of this lovely apartment and enjoy yourself. It’s only for two weeks, and you’ll soon be home and complaining about the rain again,’ says Soraya.
‘Yeah, very true. You’re amazing. Thank you for arranging such an opportunity for me.’
‘You deserve it after everything you’ve gone through with Michael. Oh, and before I leave…’ Soraya hands me her turquoise kaftan that I have always loved so much.
‘Here. I know there’s a washing machine, but you might need some extra clothes. Take this, it might come in handy.’
I look at the delicate beads and the silver sequins that embellish the neckline.
‘I can’t take this. It’s far too beautiful. You know it’s my favourite on you.’
‘You can. Please. I won’t be needing it in Swansea. Have you seen the weather forecast next week?’
‘You are just too kind. I promise to look after it.’
I hug Soraya and Carol goodbye and then wave as I watch their taxi drive away. As soon as I close the door, the apartment feels bigger than ever. Here by myself, I seem to be rattling around. Although, it doesn’t stop me moving my things into the master bedroom. I couldn’t resist the four-poster bed with the white lace curtains.
Eventually, I decide I am ready to give Poppy and Jasmine a call to explain about my extended holiday. I know they will already be up, as they have lectures on a Monday morning, and so I ring our group chat.
‘Are you on your way back, Mam?’ asks Poppy.
Jasmine talks over her as she tells me to grab perfume and some make-up in duty-free for her.
‘Woah, woah. Right…’ I have to take a big gulp. I can’t believe I am so apprehensive about telling my own kids I am staying on.
‘The thing is… You know how I have this book I want to write. Well, I’ve decided to stay on in Monaco for some ideas for it and…’
‘Are you serious? How long you staying on for?’
‘Just a couple of weeks. There’s this guy who sails a yacht, and he’s offered to take me out on it. So, you know, that should give me plenty of material to think about for the book…’
‘You’ve met a guy who sails a yacht. He’s not a drug dealer or some kind of scammer, is he?’ says Jasmine.
‘Don’t be silly, he’s from Manchester. He’s a decent sort of chap.’
‘Oh. My. God. Mam’s met a scammer from Manchester and she’s going off on a boat with him. I’m calling the police,’ says Poppy dramatically.
‘Calm down. Don’t be so silly.’
‘Well, how did you meet him?’
‘He kindly gave me some money, actually.’
‘What? He gave you money? Bingo. There you go then. He’s a fraudster, obvs. Nobody gives someone money when they first meet.’
‘It was a few euros!’
‘Exactly, you see. These guys, they know what they’re doing. He pays you a couple of euros, he gets a hundred thousand out of you.’
‘Come on, Jasmine. Where on earth do you think I’d find money like that to give anyone?’
‘It’s on TV all the time, Mam. They get ways around you, and the next thing you know, you’re remortgaging your house. No wonder he’s sailing around Monaco in a yacht. What poor woman paid for that? Some child’s mother will have been scammed because of that little shit. Heartbreaking.’
