The Family Friend, C. MacDonald [ereader for android TXT] 📗

ridiculous that she hasn’t even been paid enough for a train fare.

‘Grace Fentiman’s office?’

‘Is Grace there? It’s Erin Braune.’

‘Er – she’s not.’ The hesitation tells Erin that she is but clearly has no time to talk to her ex-client.

‘I need to speak to her about when I’m going to get paid.’

‘Let me just –’ Erin’s hip starts to burn with pain from the weight of Bobby perching on top of it as Grace’s assistant, Zoe, looks through Erin’s file on their system. ‘Are you talking about the payment from Slow-Aloe for the selection of hair masks? Because that’s come through now. Payroll’s not till Thursday if you remember so you won’t get it for a couple of days.’

‘I’m not just talking about Slow-Aloe, I’m talking about all of it. The hair-mask posts were only a couple of weeks ago, three at most. I’m talking about all of them. I haven’t been paid for any of the posts I’ve done yet. Why would I specifically be talking about Slow-Aloe?’

‘Um –’ Erin has to endure the sound of Zoe tapping on her computer for a moment. ‘We’re all up to date up until the Slow-Aloe invoice on our system.’ Erin tastes the spit in her mouth. What’s she talking about? Erin hasn’t been paid for any of those things. Her card’s been declined. As of a few days ago, when she last checked, she had about forty quid in her account and had worried about asking Raf to put his monthly £150 in early.

‘I haven’t got any of that money,’ Erin says, shifting Bobby onto her other hip, almost limping along the parade of shops towards home. She needs to put him down. She wishes he could walk.

‘That’s weird. I mean, the money’s left our account so –’

‘Can I speak to Grace?’

‘She’s in a meeting. Yeh, it’s been paid into account number 94738382.’

‘That’s not my account.’

‘That would explain it.’ Zoe’s sunny tone makes Erin actually slap herself on the forehead in exasperation. Bobby thinks it’s a game and joins in hitting her so she has to hold his hands down.

‘It’s a totally different account number, why would you pay it into that account?’

‘I’ve just found the email you sent us with your details, are you able to check your email?’

‘Not right now.’

‘OK. The 26th of Feb you sent us an email that said, “I’ve set up a new business account, details below 9473 –’

‘I signed with Grace at the end of January. I sent my bank details then, not on the 26th of February.’

‘OK. I’ll forward the email chain back to you, maybe we should get off the phone so you can check it.’

‘I can’t –’ But she stops herself. Somehow she’s too ashamed to admit that she’s not using a smartphone.

‘OK. Thanks. Let me check.’ She hangs up just as she turns onto her road. She almost skips down the hill to her house, opens the door and deposits Bobby onto the play mat. She pulls her laptop out of the kitchen drawer. It’s dead. She plugs it in. The minutes feel like hours as she waits for it to turn on. When it sparks into life she logs into her email. There it is from Zoe, a forwarded message.

FROM: erinbraune@outlook.co.uk

TO: grace.fentiman@rfgtalent.com

RE: Account details

Hi Grace,

I’ve set up a new account for my work with you, details below. I wanted to be able to keep my business income separate from my day-to-day life. Hope you’ll be able to amend on your system.

Thanks.

Erin

There’s no ‘X’ at the end. Erin and Grace always end their emails with an ‘X’. Erin didn’t send that email.

57

‘You must be able to tell me when the account was opened?’ The middle-aged man with a Don Draper hairstyle that doesn’t suit the width of his face grimaces from behind the bank counter.

‘Sorry, no. We can’t reveal any details about our accounts without the account holder’s photographic identification.’

‘The identity of the account holder is exactly what I’m trying to find out!’ The man in the polyester suit is starting to look uncomfortable. She breathes, tries to calm herself. Bobby’s sleeping in the sling on her front and the last thing she needs is him waking up.

When she read the email it suddenly all clicked into place. Raf was right, she was being ridiculous thinking that Amanda was here for him or to steal Bobby away from her. Amanda’s in a dead-end situation at home, she found out she has a tenuous link to someone who has tens of thousands of Instagram followers. She could have googled how much money influencers make or maybe she knows much more about the whole thing than she’s ever let on. Erin would love to accuse her, she’d love to tell Raf, go through her wallet and find the card from the account, but what if she’s hidden it somewhere like the jar? Erin’s not sure Raf would tolerate that, it might be the last straw.

But this officious jobsworth isn’t giving her anything. She expected it to be an Australian account but the sort code says that this is the bank, the only one left on the high street. Amanda must have set up an account when she got here, though whether Erin’s money’s still in it, she can’t be sure. In heist movies the money’s always redistributed to untraceable accounts as soon as it’s paid in.

‘Can you tell me if there’s any money in the account? If there’s any forwarding account? All my money, everything I’ve earned this year, is in that account and I don’t have access to it.’

‘How has it got in there?’

‘Look –’ she glances at his name tag, almost double-takes – ‘look, Fabian. Someone has stolen my money and put it in one of your accounts. I’m not asking you for the person’s address, just tell me when it was set up, tell me if there’s anything left in it. I’ve been a victim of fraud. I’m