“Honestly, he’s completely gone off the rails. His grades are slipping, he comes home late…”
Lydia set two steaming mugs of tea on the kitchen table and nudged a plate of biscuits toward her friend. Outside, a dreary October drizzle pattered against the window, but inside, the flat was warm and cosy. Alice, as always, looked impeccable—neatly styled hair, subtle makeup, an elegant blouse. At fifty-eight, she still had that effortless knack for keeping herself together.
“Lyd, I can’t thank you enough for agreeing to help,” Alice said, cradling her mug with a grateful smile. “Honestly, I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
“Don’t be silly, Alice. We’ve been friends for decades—of course I’ll help.” Lydia settled opposite her and studied her friend’s face. “Now, tell me everything properly. What’s going on with Jason?”
Alice sighed, rubbing her temples.
“Honestly, he’s completely gone off the rails. His grades are slipping, he comes home late, and yesterday I found some pills in his coat pocket.”
“Good Lord,” Lydia pressed a hand to her chest. “Drugs?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I was terrified. But he won’t explain—just snaps at me, says it’s none of my business.”
Lydia shook her head. She knew Jason well—Alice’s seventeen-year-old grandson, orphaned young and raised by his grandmother. He’d always been a sweet boy, but lately, he’d turned moody and withdrawn.
“What do you think we should do?” Lydia asked.
“I need money for a private investigator,” Alice murmured, almost whispering. “To find out who he’s mixing with, where he’s disappearing to. Maybe he’s fallen in with the wrong crowd.”
“How much do you need?”
“Two thousand pounds. I know it’s a lot, but I swear I’ll pay you back next month—once my pension comes in.”
Without hesitation, Lydia stood and went to the cupboard where she kept her emergency stash. Alice had been her closest friend for over twenty years. They’d met at work, back when they were both married, raising kids, dreaming of the future. Life had scattered them to different towns, but they’d stayed in touch—calls, letters, visits.
When Lydia was widowed, Alice had been the one to hold her together. And when Alice faced her own tragedy—her son and daughter-in-law killed in a car crash, leaving little Jason behind—Lydia had rushed to her side, helping with the funeral, the legal guardianship, everything.
“Here,” Lydia handed her an envelope. “And don’t worry about paying me back. If you need more, just say the word.”
Alice took it and hugged her tightly.
“You’re an absolute angel,” she whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
They sat at the kitchen table for hours, sipping tea and talking. Alice unloaded about how hard it was raising a teenage boy alone. Lydia shared stories about raising her own son, offering advice where she could.
“How’s Tom these days?” Alice asked. “Haven’t seen him in ages.”
“Oh, he’s fine. Lovely family, steady job. Just never phones—too busy, I suppose.”
“Ah, well. That’s kids for you.”
Alice didn’t leave until evening. Lydia walked her to the lift, waved her off, and then the doors closed, leaving the flat quiet once more.
She tidied up, watered the plants on the windowsill, and settled in front of the telly. But her mind kept wandering back to Jason. He’d always been such a polite, bright boy. Could he really be mixed up in something dangerous?
The next day, Lydia went for her routine check-up at the GP’s. In the waiting room, she bumped into her neighbour, Margaret.
“Lydia! Long time no see,” Margaret chirped. “How’ve you been?”
“Oh, alright. Had a friend over yesterday—problems with her grandson.”
“Which friend? The one who drives that posh black car?”
Lydia blinked. Alice *had* arrived in a car—but she’d never mentioned owning one.
“Maybe. How’d you know?”
“Oh, I saw her pulling away from your building. Fancy motor—must’ve cost a pretty penny.”
Lydia frowned. If Alice had a car like that, why would she need to borrow money? But then again, maybe someone had given her a lift.
A week later, Alice called with good news.
“Lyd, you won’t believe it—Jason’s fine! Turns out those pills were just vitamins. He was embarrassed to admit he’d started going to the gym, taking supplements.”
“Thank goodness,” Lydia exhaled in relief. “And the investigator?”
“Oh, I never hired one. We had a proper heart-to-heart, and he confessed—he’d got a crush on a girl in his year. You know what teenagers are like.”
Lydia smiled. Indeed, teenagers were a mystery. Still, it was a relief the drama was over.
“I’ll pay you back next week, promise,” Alice added.
“No rush, whenever you can.”
They hung up, and Lydia felt lighter. It was nice when problems sorted themselves out.
Except the money never came. Not in a week, not in a month. When Lydia gently reminded her, Alice sighed.
“Lyd, I’m so sorry—unexpected expenses came up. Jason needed a maths tutor, and those don’t come cheap. Just a bit longer, please?”
Lydia didn’t push. Two thousand pounds wasn’t nothing, but it wasn’t life-changing either. And if Alice needed it for Jason’s education, well, that was a good cause.
Winter passed quietly. Alice called less, always “too busy.” Jason was doing better, she said—good grades, even applying to university.
Come spring, Lydia visited her son in the next town over. Tom met her at the station, hugged her tight, asked after her health. He lived in a nice area—spacious flat, happy family.
“Mum,” he said over dinner, “remember Alice? Your friend?”
“Of course. Why?”
“Saw her in town the other day. Coming out of some high-end shop, arms full of bags. Dressed like she’d won the lottery.”
Lydia studied his face.
“You’re sure it was her?”
“Positive. She used to visit when I was in school. I almost said hello, but she hopped into a car and zoomed off.”
“What kind of car?”
“Top-of-the-line. Not the sort you buy on a pension.”
Lydia fell silent. So the car *was* hers. And she was splashing cash on designer gear. Then why borrow money?
Back home, she stewed. Had Alice lied? But why? Over two grand?
She decided to dig. A quick search revealed Alice’s neighbourhood was one of the priciest in town. Then she checked Jason’s social media.
What she saw made her stomach drop.
Jason looked perfectly content—designer clothes, flashy tech, photos from cafés and clubs. No sign of a troubled teen or financial struggle.
Then she found the photo that made her heart race.
Alice and Jason, beaming in front of a lavish flat. The caption read:
*“With my darling grandma in our new place.”*
New place. So they’d moved. And by the looks of it, they weren’t short on cash.
Lydia shut the laptop and sat in silence. The truth was ugly. Alice had lied about Jason’s troubles, lied about needing money, and now she was dodging repayment.
But *why*? Greed?
She called Alice, cutting straight to the point.
“Alice, about that money—it’s been six months.”
A pause.
“What money?”
“The two thousand you borrowed. For the investigator.”
“Oh! But Lyd, you *said* it was a gift. ‘Don’t worry about paying me back’—your exact words.”
Lydia stiffened. She *had* said that—just politeness, though. Any decent person would’ve known she expected repayment.
“Alice, that was just being kind. Of course I expected it back.”
“But you *said*—” Alice’s voice turned icy. “Honestly, I never took you for the petty type. We’re *friends*.”
“Which is why debts between friends should be honoured.”
“Lydia, you’re blowing this out of proportion. Things are tight right now—Jason’s uni fees, you know how it is. Just be patient.”
The line went dead.
Lydia stared at her phone, stunned. Had her best friend just swindled her?
A month later, a text lit up her screen—from a stranger named Helen, who claimed to be Alice’s neighbour.
*“Hello, Lydia. Got your number from Alice. Thought you should know—she’s been borrowing money from people for years, spinning sob stories. Never pays back. Lives lavishly,
