**Diary Entry**
Mum’s lost her mind—proper lost it. I could hardly keep my voice steady. “How could you fall for that?” I demanded.
“Don’t you dare speak about Lily like that!” she snapped back. “She’s been like a daughter to me!”
“A daughter?” I let out a sharp laugh, nerves fraying. “Mum, she robbed you blind! Took every penny you had!”
“She didn’t steal a thing! I gave her the money myself!” She slammed her fist on the table. “And it’s none of your business what I do with my savings!”
“*My* savings, Mum! That was Nan’s inheritance! Your pension, the money I’ve been giving you! And she swanned off with the lot!”
She turned away, staring out the window. Rain streaked the glass like tears. But she wasn’t crying—she’d run out of those yesterday when it finally hit her. Lily had played her.
“She didn’t disappear,” she murmured. “She’s gone to stay with her sister in Manchester. Said she’d be back in a month.”
“Wake up, Mum! What sister? She told you herself—she’s got no family! She’s an orphan!”
“Maybe she found someone. Maybe—”
I grabbed her shoulders. “Mum, *look* at me. Lily Carter’s a con artist. She befriended you just to get at your money. She’s done this to dozens of women like you.”
“How d’you know that?”
“I hired a private investigator. Here.” I pulled a folder from my bag—reports, photos. “Lily Carter, thirty-eight. Convicted for fraud. Preys on lonely older women. Look—there she is with her other victims.”
Her hands shook as she took it. The photos showed Lily arm in arm with women just like Mum—grinning, happy.
“It can’t be true,” she whispered.
“Mum, she took twenty grand off you. Said her daughter was ill, needed an operation. She doesn’t *have* a daughter!”
She sank into a chair. I could see it—the cracks in her, the world she’d believed in shattering.
“But she—we were friends for a *year*. She helped me—shopping, hospital trips—”
“She was grooming you. Waiting for the right moment.”
I remembered how it started. A chance meeting at the GP’s. Lily striking up a chat—so friendly, so warm. Slowly, she wove herself into Mum’s life. Tea visits, long talks.
“You warned me,” she admitted quietly. “Told me to be careful with strangers.”
“You thought I was just paranoid.”
“Not everyone’s out to hurt you.”
“No. But plenty are—especially the ones who become ‘best friends’ overnight.”
She closed her eyes. I knew what she was remembering—the day Lily turned up in tears. Her “daughter” Lucy was sick, needed urgent surgery. Money tight, time running out.
“Margaret, you’re the only one I trust,” she’d sobbed.
And Mum handed over everything. No questions.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked. “I’d have stopped you.”
“Because I *knew* you’d say no. You never liked her.”
“I *knew* she was fake. Too eager, too perfect. Real friends don’t act like that.”
She stood abruptly, walked to the sideboard. There it was—a framed photo of them in Hyde Park, arms around each other, beaming. She grabbed it and smashed it against the floor. Glass shards skittered everywhere.
“Mum—!”
“I’m such a *fool*!” she screamed. “How could I be so blind?”
I pulled her into a hug. “It’s not your fault. She’s a professional. She *knows* how to trick people.”
“But why *me*?”
“Because you’re kind. Because you trust too easily. Because you were lonely.”
She pushed back, met my eyes. “I’m reporting her.”
“It’s too late, Mum. She’s gone. The police won’t find her.”
“They *will*.”
I shook my head. “Even if they do, the money’s gone. She’s spent it.”
“Then at least she won’t scam anyone else.”
She wiped her face, steeled herself. “I’ll go to the station tomorrow.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No. I’ll do it alone.”
I packed the files away. “Why didn’t you call me? I was worried sick.”
“I was *ashamed*. Knew you’d say ‘I told you so’.”
“I’m not gloating, Mum. I just—I care about you.”
“I know. I’m sorry, James.”
I kissed her forehead. “Move in with me. Just for a bit.”
“No.” She was firm. “I won’t run.”
“But after all this—”
“That’s exactly why I *have* to stay. If I leave now, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I didn’t argue. She’s always been stubborn.
“Fine. But I’m checking in daily.”
“Once a week’s enough.”
“Mum—”
“I’ll be *fine*.”
After I left, she swept up the broken frame, tore the photo to shreds. Then she sat by the window, thinking. How had she been so stupid? How had she trusted a stranger over her own son?
Then—her phone rang. *Lily*.
She let it ring, heart pounding. Finally, she answered.
“Margaret! Hi!” Lily’s voice was bright. “Missed you! I’ve got brilliant news—Lucy’s surgery went perfect!”
“That’s nice,” Mum said flatly.
“Margaret? You sound odd.”
“Just tired.”
“Well, I’m back next week! Let’s meet up—I’ll tell you everything!”
“Lily,” Mum said slowly, “show me a photo of your daughter.”
“…What?”
“Any photo. I’d like to see her.”
Silence. Then— “Oh, my phone broke. Lost all my pictures.”
“I see.”
“Margaret, what’s going on?”
She took a breath. “I know everything.”
Another pause. Then Lily laughed, nerves showing. “Know *what*? Are you feeling alright?”
“That you’ve no daughter. That you’re a fraud. That you *conned* me.”
The line went dead quiet. Then Lily’s tone turned icy.
“And what’ll you do? Call the police?”
“Yes.”
“Waste of time. I’m long gone. And you *gave* me that money—I’ve got your signed note.”
“A note for a *fake* child’s surgery?”
“Prove it.”
Mum almost hung up—but Lily cut in.
“Wait. Margaret… you were happy with me, weren’t you?”
“What?”
“Admit it. Those months—you weren’t lonely. You had a friend.”
Her chest ached. It was true.
“Here’s my offer,” Lily said. “I’ll return half.”
“All or nothing.”
“I *can’t*. It’s spent.”
“Then we’re done.”
“Margaret, *think*. Half’s better than nothing.”
“You never cared about me,” Mum said quietly. “Just the money.”
“That’s not true!”
“Then why lie?”
Lily exhaled sharply. “Fine. I’ll come back. We’ll talk in person.”
“Don’t. I never want to see you again.”
“But we’re *friends*—”
“No. We were business. You worked. I paid. That’s all.”
The pain wasn’t about the money. It was the *pretence*. The friendship that never was.
“Margaret, *please*. Let me fix this.”
“No. Don’t call. Don’t visit. Don’t *ever* come back.”
She hung up, blocked the number, then sat there, hollow. Outside, kids laughed in the street. Life went on.
She made tea, cut a slice of the cake she’d bought for Lily’s return. She’d eat it alone.
No more trusting strangers. No more desperate friendship. She’d survive. She always had.
She’d forgive Lily—not for her sake, but for her own. Life’s too short for bitterness.
But she’d never let her back in.
The phone rang again—unknown number. She ignored it.
Some bridges stay burned.
