“Don’t Call Me Back”
“Mum, have you completely lost your mind?” Oliver’s voice trembled with anger. “How could you believe that woman?”
“Don’t you dare speak about Emily like that!” Margaret snapped. “She’s like a daughter to me!”
“A daughter?” Oliver let out a bitter laugh. “Mum, she robbed you blind! Took every penny you had!”
“She didn’t steal anything! I gave her the money!” Margaret slammed her fist on the table. “And it’s none of your business how I spend my savings!”
“My business? Those were Gran’s inheritance, your pension, and my help! And she vanished with all of it!”
Margaret turned to the window. Rain streaked the glass like tears, but she didn’t cry. She’d run out of tears yesterday when she realized Emily had tricked her.
“She didn’t vanish,” she murmured. “She went to see her sister in Manchester. Said she’d be back in a month.”
“Mum, wake up! What sister? You know she’s got no family—she told you she was alone!”
“Maybe she found someone. Maybe—”
Oliver grabbed her shoulders. “Mum, look at me. Emily Clarke is a con artist. She preyed on you. There are dozens of women like you she’s swindled.”
“How do you know?”
“I hired a private investigator. Here—look.”
He pulled a folder from his briefcase—documents, photos. “Emily Clarke, thirty-eight. Convicted of fraud. Specializes in lonely elderly women. Look at these pictures with her other victims.”
Margaret’s hands shook as she took the folder. There was Emily, arm in arm with different women—all her age, all smiling, all looking happy.
“This can’t be true,” she whispered.
“Mum, she took fifty thousand pounds from you. Said her daughter needed surgery. She doesn’t even have kids!”
Margaret sank into a chair, her vision blurring.
“But… we were friends for a year… She helped me with shopping, doctors’ visits…”
“She was laying the groundwork, Mum. Gaining your trust. Then she struck when you least expected it.”
Margaret remembered meeting Emily at the clinic, waiting for her cardiologist. The woman struck up a conversation—said she was alone too, a widow, her daughter far away. Just like her.
Then came the “chance” meetings at the shops, the pharmacy. Emily was always kind, always helpful. Soon, they were inseparable—tea at Margaret’s, sharing memories.
“Remember how I warned you?” Oliver pressed. “Told you to be careful with strangers?”
“I remember,” she admitted. “But you suspect everyone. Think the worst of people.”
“Not everyone. But people like her—the ones who rush into friendship.”
Margaret shut her eyes. She remembered the day Emily came to her in tears. Her “daughter” Lily was sick, needed an operation, didn’t have the money…
“Maggie, you’re the only one I can turn to,” Emily had sobbed.
And Margaret gave her everything. Without hesitation. How could she not help a friend in need?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Oliver asked. “I’d have stopped you.”
“Because I knew you’d say no. You never liked her.”
“I knew sheMargaret took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and dialed the police, knowing that even if she never saw her money again, she wouldn’t let Emily hurt anyone else.
