Page 79 of So, I Met This Guy . . .

And they weren’t here to educate themselves, they were here to catch a con man.

‘But I don’t understand . . .’

‘At the time, neither did I, it was the weirdest thing.’

Maggie rested her hands on the steering wheel, her mind flicking back.

‘I was bracing myself for an argument, to find him still in a bad mood, rehearsing what I might say to make it all better, but when I walked into the kitchen the radio was on, fresh coffee was brewing and he was at the stove, cooking me breakfast, all cheerful and happy—’ She broke off, back in the moment. ‘And when he saw me he gave me the biggest smile, like I was the best thing he’d ever seen.’

‘He didn’t mention the night before?’

‘Nope.’ Maggie shook her head. ‘It was like it had never happened. And I didn’t mention it, because I didn’t want to bring it all up again.’

‘How weird.’

‘To be honest, I was just so relieved that the man I knew and loved was back. That everything was normal again.’

Parked in the shade of a row of large cypress trees, with the windows of the Fiat buzzed right down, a welcome breeze blew through the car. They both knew they needed to check into the hotel, go through the whole paperwork and passport process yet again. But for the moment they remained sitting in the car, not yet ready to drum up the energy needed.

‘But it wasn’t normal, was it?’ Maggie spoke quietly.

For so long she’d deliberately locked these memories away and reliving them now was both painful and illuminating.

‘I should’ve said something. Called him out on it. Had a conversation about what had angered him so much and made him so upset. Maybe if I had done, I wouldn’t have got myself into such a mess.’

But Flick wasn’t having any of it. ‘That’s ridiculous!’ she retorted. ‘It’s not your fault. You didn’t get yourself into the mess, it was him.’

‘But I let him, didn’t I? I was the one who allowed it.’

Resting her hands on the steering wheel, Maggie let herself be transported far away from the summer heat of Sicily, back to the kitchen of her old flat. Despite the summer heat, she felt herself go cold.

‘“Eat up, babe, your eggs will go cold.” That’s what he said. And then he gave me a kiss.’

She turned to Flick, smiling, but it was the saddest smile Flick had ever seen.

‘And you know what’s the worst part?’

Flick shook her head.

‘I kissed him back and told him he made the best omelette and I ate my breakfast like a good girl.’ Maggie’s eyes flashed with tears, but she refused to let them fall. ‘And afterwards I convinced myself that I must have drunk more champagne than I thought the night before. That I’d remembered it all wrong. That I must have said something, or done something, but it didn’t matter now, because everything was good between us again.’

She sniffed sharply. She was damned if she was going to cry another tear over Him.

‘You mustn’t blame yourself.’

‘But that’s just it. I do blame myself. I ignored that voice in my head that told me something was wrong . . . I told myself everything was fine, that we loved each other . . . and for a long time I didn’t realize what was happening to me, until it was too late . . .’

As Maggie spoke, Flick felt a mixture of guilt and tremendous responsibility. She was the reason Maggie was having to relive all of this. If it wasn’t for her turning up at her caravan, digging for information about a Theo C. Stratin and asking her to tell her story, she wouldn’t be having to go through all of these painful memories. She wouldn’t be here now, reliving all of this.

And for a moment, she allowed the doubts to take hold. Had she been right in pursuing him? Involving Maggie? Dragging her halfway across Europe on some madcap scheme? Because listening to Maggie talk, to hear about her experience in these unscripted interviews on the road, where she spoke about what had happened to her, it was clear to Flick that this wasn’t about the money. It was about much more than that. But then she always knew that, didn’t she?

‘. . . because what I didn’t know then, is this is how it all starts.’

‘You mean the deception?’ Flick felt herself snap back. ‘Defrauding you out of your life savings?’

But Maggie shook her head. He’d stolen so much more from her than that.

‘No. I’m talking about the coercive control. The emotional abuse. The breadcrumbing. The gaslighting.’