The Victim Read online

  ‘Of course, you can’t be her.’ The woman was gripping the edge of a chair as if for support. ‘I lost touch with my friend a long time ago.’ Her eyes began to water. ‘I just wondered if you were a relation of hers.’

  Pippa was looking distinctly uncomfortable. Despite the horrendous situation Georgie had found herself in, she felt incredibly sorry for her friend. This wasn’t what a hostess needed. ‘A relation?’ She forced the words out of her mouth. ‘I don’t think so. Not that I know of. My name is Georgie – short for Georgina – but my maiden name was Peverington.’

  No need to mention the Peverington-Smith bit, she told herself quickly, hoping that Sam wasn’t listening.

  The woman shook herself as if coming out of a dream. ‘Of course. I’m sorry. It would have been too much of a coincidence, wouldn’t it?’

  Her voice was trembling and she was looking down at her shoes; a rather smart pair of shiny black stilettos. Exactly the kind that she and the old Georgie had dreamed of wearing. ‘You’ll have to excuse me.’ Then she raised her eyes pleadingly. ‘You never quite get over losing a dear friend, you know. Every now and then, it comes up and hits me.’

  Poor Pippa, who was usually in control of most social situations, looked as though she didn’t know what to say. It was awkward, Georgie conceded, for someone who was completely new to the area to be so open. Then again, that was her Lyndsey. Always one to say what she was thinking. Her heart contorted. Until now, Georgie hadn’t allowed herself to grieve for the people she’d left behind. Not her parents, but Lyndsey and of course her old dog who would be long gone by now. They’d used to go on long walks together.

  ‘Shall we go through?’

  Pippa had her hostess voice on. Slightly brittle and nervous at the same time. She wouldn’t be worried about the food, Georgie thought. Pippa was in catering: she ran a well-established local cookery school. No. It was the mix of guests she’d invited. Georgie could see that in her eyes.

  To her relief – and yet also slight disappointment – Pippa placed her and Lyndsey at opposite ends of the table. Sam was four places down. She could hear him talking to a banker whom she knew slightly through his wife (another former school-run mum) and wondered if her husband was going to mention The Thing.

  Privately, that’s what Georgie had begun to call it to herself. It defied any other name. Fraud didn’t even start to do it justice. As for stolen identity, she couldn’t even go there … That picture of her with the feather duster kept preying on her mind, even in her dreams.

  Sam’s face was low now, his brow furrowed; the way he looked when talking about something serious. Was he asking advice from the banker? The man might even be partly aware of the situation already. His wife was friends with Jo, who was still not speaking to her. She desperately needed this evening to think of something else. To unwind.

  All they’d thought and talked about for days was how to get out of this mess and hang onto her clients. If she could have one evening off from the strain and worry, she’d feel a lot better.

  ‘Hello,’ said a pleasant deep voice, sliding into the seat next to her.

  Georgie looked up to find a shortish man with an honest, open face and a firm handshake. ‘I’m Steven. My wife Lyndsey and I have just moved into the area.’

  Her initial relief at finding someone new next to her – who might be aware of the wild rumours flying around – was replaced by a sense of dread. Did she know him? Frantically, Georgie searched her mind for a record of one of the few local boys she and Lyndsey had known in the small Yorkshire village where they had grown up. There hadn’t been many – wasn’t that why they had both been itching to leave? – but she might be mistaken …

  ‘Have you lived here long?’ he asked. ‘Nearly twenty years.’ Then she forced herself to face him. ‘Where have you moved from?’

  ‘Birmingham, actually. We’ve both been there for ages.’ He gave a small, slightly disparaging smile. ‘Lyndsey and I met on a post-grad course there. We liked it, so we stayed put. Not very adventurous, I know.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Georgie was beginning to warm to this nice man. Good. So at least one of them had done all right. She glanced down the table to where Lyndsey was sitting. As if sensing it, the woman met her gaze. This time, instead of being a troubled look, it was a harder, reappraising one. Quickly, Georgie looked away.

  ‘Do you have children?’ she asked quickly.

  Stephen’s face dropped. ‘Unfortunately not.’

  Instantly, she wished she hadn’t asked that question. It was so easy to assume other people had been blessed in the way that she had. At the same time, Georgie felt a pang in her chest. Lyndsey had always wanted kids, more so than she had, to be honest. ‘Four,’ she used to say happily when, as teenagers, they planned their life in advance. ‘Mum says it’s a good number.’

  For a minute, Georgie allowed herself to remember the busy, frantic, but always happy household that her friend had grown up in. Such a stark contrast to her own cold one. No wonder she’d spent so much time at her old friend’s house rather than her own.

  ‘But we both have our careers,’ continued Stephen more brightly. ‘Lyndsey was appointed head of her school last year and I was a head in an out-of-city school. So we both sing from the same hymn sheet, as it were.’

  She almost felt envious at the obvious unity. ‘Have you both found schools down here?’

  ‘Actually, no. My wife has … she’s taken early retirement. In fact, we both have. I’m hoping we’ll both make friends soon. That’s why it was so kind of Pippa to invite us. We live next door.’

  ‘Really?’

  Georgie couldn’t hide her surprise. The house next door was a beautiful Georgian building which she’d often admired, even though it was out of their price range. Teaching must be better paid than she’d realised. It was certainly a far cry from the cramped semi that Lyndsey had grown up in: an exact duplicate of Georgie’s.

  ‘Yes.’ Her companion made a small face as though this was pleasant news to him as well. ‘I heard you were an interior designer. Maybe you could come round some time and take a look.’

  No. No.

  ‘I’d love to,’ said Georgie carefully, knowing that if she refused outright it would look rude. ‘However, I’m quite busy at the moment.’

  Lyndsey’s husband nodded approvingly. ‘That makes me all the keener. Shows you must be good at your job.’ His eye fell on her bag. ‘Do you have a business card on you?’

  What was the point of denying it? He’d only get her number off their hostess. ‘Sure.’

  He glanced at it. ‘“Gorgeous Georgie”. I was always trying to get my pupils to understand alliteration.’ Then his eyes twinkled and once more, Georgie felt an unreasonable stab of jealousy. What a difference twenty-odd years had made. Ordinary Lyndsey with her conscientious attitude to life and her fear of adventures had emerged sunny-side up. True, she didn’t have children and she had ‘health issues’, whatever they were.

  But at least she wasn’t living a lie.

  Thankfully, after the main course, Pippa announced that ‘everyone must change places to get to know each other better’ and Georgie found herself sitting – not next to Lyndsey as she’d feared – but to Pippa’s husband who chatted amicably about that new drama on television. She had seen it, hadn’t she? No? Really? It was all about this woman who woke up one day after a coma to discover that her husband had been responsible for her accident and that …

  Georgie let the conversation wash over her. It gave her the opportunity to appraise Lyndsey every now and then at the other end of the table. She’d just have to tell them that she couldn’t take on any clients until the end of the year. Then she’d try and keep a wide berth.

  But that wouldn’t be easy in a small town like this. What if she inadvertently let something slip?

  You can’t, she told herself fiercely. You’ll simply have to be careful. Just as you have been for most of your adult life.

  Eventually, to her
relief, people were looking at their watches and exclaiming at the time. Was it gone midnight already? Such a shame to go but really, the babysitter would be chafing at the bit or they had an exhibition to go to tomorrow or …

  ‘Must get back to walk Beano,’ said Sam, slipping his arm around her as they stood in the hallway, waiting to retrieve their coats and say their thank yous.

  Lyndsey and her husband were a few feet away but immediately her eyes hardened. Georgie could hardly breathe as she zoomed in. ‘Beano?’ she said sharply. ‘Is that your dog?’

  No. No.

  ‘He’s a black lab,’ said Sam proudly. ‘Our substitute child now our children are away.’

  Georgie could feel Lyndsey’s eyes on her like a hot grill. ‘My friend Georgie had a dog called Beano,’ she said slowly. ‘It died of a broken heart when she went away.’

  For a minute, Georgie felt her knees threaten to buckle. Then, thank goodness, Lyndsey’s husband stepped in. ‘Come on, darling. Try to think pleasant thoughts. Remember?’

  He shot them both a ‘please understand’ glance before shaking Georgie’s hand. ‘We’ll be in touch,’ he said quietly. ‘My wife needs a project. It will be a good diversion.’

  ELEVEN

  Hi. Nice to meet you. Before you ask, I’m one of the old hands. And frankly, I don’t know how we managed before Facebook.

  It changed everything. There are teams of us now, everywhere, skimming through it for personal stuff. Anything that will help us crack the code that people put on their iPads and phones.

  Pet names are the best. You’d be amazed at how often customers use them as passwords for their online banking.

  Kids’ names are next.

  Husbands’ names hardly get a look in. Shows you where customers’ priorities lie.

  ‘Customers’, I hear you asking. Well, that’s what they are, aren’t they? We earn a good living from them and in return they give us their business.

  Even if they don’t know it.

  Once you’ve cracked the code, the world is your oyster. You can get into their bank accounts. Check their diaries. Build up a complete picture of the owner and steal their identity – more than once.

  If you’ve got an EHIC card or a passport as well, you’re really in the money. Do you know how much you can get for them on the black market? Thought not. Right now, an illegal is giving birth on the national health thanks to Mrs Hamilton’s EHIC card. I know because she’s my cousin.

  Sometimes, just to throw people, we leave important stuff. Like driving licences. They’re one of the first things victims check. If it’s still there, they think they’re safe.

  TWELVE

  For the next few days after the dinner party, Georgie was decidedly twitchy. Every time the phone rang, she imagined it was that kind, boring, sensible Stephen asking if she would come round to look at the house. Or, even worse, Lyndsey herself.

  She had her refusal neatly planned, of course. Even written it down as an aide memoire in case words failed her in the panic of the moment. ‘Terribly sorry. Would love to help out. But snowed under for the foreseeable future. Can recommend another interior designer.’ Etc. etc.

  Anything so as not to put herself in a situation where she might find herself letting her guard down or saying something that might arouse Lyndsey’s suspicions even further.

  To make it worse, she kept discovering more things that had gone missing from her purse. Things she didn’t think of checking before. Her EHIC card. Her Boots loyalty card. But not, strangely, her driving licence. Was it possible that she might just have dropped the first two by mistake somewhere? If they’d been stolen, surely the thief would have taken the licence.

  But none were as important as the shell.

  Georgie decided not to say anything to anyone. It would have made her look even more stupid. Quietly, she applied for a new EHIC card. It was a surprisingly simple process. But it wasn’t so easy to calm herself down. Every time she went out, she found herself hanging onto her bag; terrified that someone might grab it.

  ‘Stop being so neurotic,’ Sam said when they parked the car in the local shopping centre and she kept checking the door was locked.

  ‘I can’t help it.’

  Why didn’t he understand? Surely Sam didn’t really think Ellie was responsible? It was a knee-jerk reaction from what had gone on before, during Ellie’s dark days. Personally, Georgie couldn’t help thinking that someone out there had taken advantage of her. Someone wanted to hurt her. Someone had targeted her.

  The thought made her skin prickle.

  Meanwhile, there was some good news. To Georgie’s relief, the computer man had managed to take down the YouTube video.

  ‘Don’t ask me how,’ he’d said with a grin and an implication that he might just have done something that wasn’t quite legal. ‘Just keep an eye on it and let me know if anything else comes up.’ Then his face softened. ‘It could just be one of these random things unless someone has got something in for you. Do you think that’s possible?’

  ‘No.’ Georgie found herself shaking her head before the question had time to go round her brain. Then she added ‘Not that I’m aware of.’

  ‘Not a competitor or a disgruntled client perhaps?’ the computer man persisted.

  Georgie tried to think. So far, she had a five-star rating on her website. The only customer who hadn’t been happy was a woman who’d been firm about having maroon throughout the house and then changed her mind. Georgie, who’d been against the colour scheme from the start, found herself being blamed but – in the interest of pleasing a client in a small town where word could spread – re-decorated and bore the extra cost herself.

  ‘Looks like you’ve just been unlucky then,’ the computer man had shrugged.

  Unlucky? Georgie bristled. She was never unlucky. That was the old Georgie. The one who had disappeared years ago. But after the computer man had gone, she took Beano out along the cliffs along the beach. And – thanks to Lyndsey’s unexpected appearance at the dinner party – the past began to filter back into her mind. Ruthlessly. Without allowing her to stop it.

  When her life had changed so dramatically, all those years ago, she’d hardly been able to breathe for fear of someone tapping her on the shoulder.

  ‘Who do you think you are?’

  Or – even worse – ‘Georgie Smith. You are under arrest.’

  She got to the point where the fear and the guilt became so great that twice – not once, but twice – she actually found herself on the point of telling Sam everything.

  But each time, she’d panicked and managed to change the subject before properly embarking on it. He would never understand. Besides, the sheer horror of what had happened was so unbelievable that Georgie’s mind had already started to blank it out in order for her to be able to put one step in front of the other.

  The old ‘her’ would never have been able to cope. Funny, she often thought, how names could decide a person’s character. Georgie sounded soft and friendly. A bit of a pushover, in the wrong situation. Georgina sounded bold. Able to stand up for herself. Georgina definitely came from a more privileged background.

  That had helped her survive. Besides, she’d made her bed, as her mother would have said, and now she had to lie in it. As for Mum herself, there was nothing in the paper about a missing girl who had failed to return from her gap year. If she’d been bothered, Mum would have launched a big publicity campaign, surely?

  That hurt. So much so, that every time she thought of her old life, she imagined a large metal gate coming down and slicing her past away from the present.

  By the time she met Sam, the old shy Georgie had hidden herself in a web of lies and deceit, fuelled by terror.

  ‘What’s happened about that money that got taken from your account?’ asked Ellie.

  If that was an innocent question, it was well presented. Like a line in a convincing play. Georgie shot a look, first at her husband and then her step-daughter. Nick was silently textin
g under the table and didn’t appear to hear either the spoken words or the unwritten tension behind them.

  She would have told him off about the texting, but this was the first time they’d all sat round the same table eating the same meal for as long as she could remember. And she didn’t want to spoil it. If someone had told her when the children were little that a family meal would, one day, become as obsolete as one of the museum exhibits she was always dragging them to, she would have relished the idea. Time on her own! In those days, that was a luxury.

  Now, with both of them leading their own lives, it became an empty gap that had to be filled. Right now, ironically, this was happening all right. But not in the way she had thought it might. Stolen identity didn’t just take away the hours in the day or the person you were. It also threatened the person you weren’t.

  ‘I’m still talking to the bank about it,’ said Georgie carefully.

  Ellie paused mid-mouthful, through a bowl of vegetarian mince. That was another thing. She’d become a vegan at the age of fifteen thanks to an enthusiastic school friend who had now – such irony – gone back to eating meat. It had meant making two different kinds of meals every time – something that strangely seemed more difficult when she visited than when Ellie had been home full time.

  Not as difficult, however, as the dark look that was gathering on Sam’s face. ‘Due to “data protection”,’ he said, adding a sarcastic emphasis on the phrase, ‘the process seems to be taking a rather long time.’