**Diary Entry – August 12th**
“Mum, have you completely lost your mind?” Edward’s voice shook with frustration. “How could you trust that conniving woman?”
“Don’t you dare speak about Emily like that!” Margaret cut him off sharply. “She’s been like a daughter to me!”
“A daughter?” Edward let out a bitter laugh. “Mum, she robbed you blind! Took every penny you had!”
“She didn’t steal a thing! I gave her the money myself!” Margaret slammed her fist on the table. “And it’s none of your business how I spend my savings!”
“My savings, Mum! That was Gran’s inheritance! Your pension, the help I give you! And she vanished with all of it!”
Margaret turned toward the window. Rain streaked the glass like silent tears. But she wasn’t crying—she’d run out of tears yesterday when she realised Emily had played her for a fool.
“She hasn’t vanished,” she murmured. “She’s gone to stay with 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’s an orphan!”
“Maybe she found one. Maybe—”
Edward gripped her shoulders. “Mum, look at me. Emily Whitmore is a fraud. She befriended you just to fleece you. You’re not her first victim.”
“How do you know?”
“I hired a private investigator. Here, see for yourself.”
He pulled a folder from his briefcase, filled with documents and photos.
“Emily Whitmore, thirty-eight. Convicted for fraud. Specialises in lonely older women. Here she is with her other marks.”
Margaret’s hands trembled as she took the folder. The photos showed Emily arm-in-arm with women her age—all smiling, all fooled.
“This can’t be true,” she whispered.
“Mum, she took twenty thousand pounds from you. Claimed her daughter needed surgery. But she’s never had children!”
Margaret sank into a chair, her vision blurring.
“But we… we were friends for a year! She helped with shopping, took me to hospital appointments…”
“She was grooming you, Mum. Gaining your trust. Then she struck when you least expected it.”
Margaret remembered their first meeting—in the GP queue, Emily striking up a conversation. A widow, she’d said, daughter living abroad. Just as lonely as she was.
Then the ‘chance’ encounters—the supermarket, the chemist. Always helpful, always kind. Soon, they were inseparable. Tea at Margaret’s, shared memories, laughter.
“Remember how I warned you?” Edward pressed. “Said you ought to be careful with new people?”
“I remember,” she admitted. “But you suspect everyone. Think the worst of people.”
“Not everyone. But enough. Especially the ones who become your best friend overnight.”
Margaret closed her eyes, recalling the day Emily had arrived in tears. Her daughter, Lily, needed an urgent operation. The money was running out.
“Margaret, you’re the only one I can turn to,” she’d sobbed.
So Margaret gave her everything—without hesitation. How could she refuse a friend in need?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Edward asked. “I’d have stopped you.”
“Because I knew you’d say no. You never liked her.”
“I knew she was fake. Too much laughter, too many compliments. Real friends don’t act like that.”
Margaret stood, walking to the sideboard. A framed photo sat there—her and Emily by the fountain in Hyde Park, arms around each other. She snatched it up and hurled it to the floor. Glass shattered.
“Mum!” Edward flinched.
“Fool!” she screamed. “Stupid old woman! How could I be so blind?”
She crumpled into tears. Edward pulled her close.
“Don’t blame yourself. She’s a professional. Knows exactly how to swindle people.”
“But why me? Why did she pick me?”
“Because you’re kind. Because you trust too easily. Because you’re alone.”
Margaret pushed away, meeting his eyes.
“I’m reporting her to the police.”
“It’s too late. She’s gone. They won’t find her.”
“They will. They have to.”
Edward shook his head. “Even if they do, you won’t get the money back. It’s already spent.”
“Then at least she won’t cheat another old woman.”
Margaret wiped her tears and straightened. Determination hardened her voice.
“I’ll go to the station tomorrow. File a report.”
“Fine. I’ll come with you.”
“No. I’ll handle it myself.”
Edward tucked the documents away. “Why didn’t you call me? I was worried.”
“Too ashamed. Knew you’d be furious.”
“I’m not furious. I’m scared for you.”
“I know. Forgive me, Eddie.”
He kissed her forehead.
“Come live with me. I don’t like you being alone.”
“No,” she said firmly. “I need my independence.”
“After what’s happened—”
“Especially after. If I run now, I’ll never forgive myself.”
He wanted to argue but held his tongue. She’d always been strong-minded—always handled her own battles.
“Fine. But I’ll visit daily.”
“Once a week’s enough.”
“Mum—”
“Eddie, I’ll manage. Truly.”
After he left, Margaret gathered the shattered glass. The photo she tore to pieces, tossing it in the bin.
Settling in her armchair, she stared at the rain. How could she have been so stupid? Trusted a stranger over her own son?
The phone rang. Emily’s number.
She hesitated, then answered.
“Margaret! How are you? I’ve missed you terribly!” Emily’s voice was bright.
Silence.
“Margaret? You there?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful news! Lily’s had her surgery—she’s recovering beautifully!”
“Good.”
“Margaret, what’s wrong? You sound odd.”
“Just tired.”
“Ah. Well, I’m back next week! We must meet—I’ll tell you everything!”
“Emily,” Margaret said slowly. “Show me a photo of your daughter.”
“A photo?”
“Any one. I’d like to see her.”
A pause.
“Why?”
“Curious. You’ve spoken so much about her.”
“Oh, I—I haven’t got any on me. My phone broke, lost all my pictures.”
“I see.”
“Margaret, what’s this about? Why the questions?”
She took a deep breath.
“I know, Emily.”
“Know what?”
“You’ve no daughter. You’re a fraud. You swindled me.”
Silence. Then a nervous laugh.
“Margaret, what nonsense is this? Are you alright? Your blood pressure—”
“I’m fine. You’re not.”
Another pause. Emily’s voice turned icy.
“So what? Going to the police?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t waste your time. I’m long gone. You’ll only humiliate yourself.”
“Margaret,”—her tone shifted—”you gave me that money willingly. I’ve got your signed note.”
“A note for a surgery that never happened?”
“Prove it.”
Margaret nearly hung up—but Emily stopped her.
“Wait. You were happy with me, weren’t you?”
“What?”
“We had fun. You weren’t lonely anymore.”
“And?”
“Those six months were the happiest you’d had in years. You said so yourself.”
Margaret’s chest ached. She wasn’t wrong.
“Tell you what—I’ll return half.”
“All or nothing.”
“I can’t. Spent most of it.”
“Then nothing.”
“Margaret, be sensible. Half’s better than none.”
“You never cared for me. Only my money. The rest was an act.”
“Not all of it. I enjoyed your company.”
“Liar. If you had, you wouldn’t have cheated me.”
A sigh. “Fine. Have it your way. But you’ll regret this.”
The line went dead.
Margaret blocked the number, then sat staring at the sun breaking through the clouds. Children laughed outside. Life went on.
In the kitchen, she put the kettle on and took out the cake she’d bought for Emily’s return. She’d eat it alone.
No more trusting strangers. No more searching for friendship in the wrong places. She’d live as she had before.
But she’d survive. She was strong.
And she’d forgive Emily—not because she deserved it, but because bitterness was too heavy a burden. Life was too short.
Still, the door was closed. No turning back.
(Another call came later. Unknown number. She ignored it.)
