My bride of eleven days was still asleep, her long blonde hair dishevelled and tangled as she slept on her back, dressed in an oyster silk nightdress. I softly backed out of the bedroom. We had a late night, and she had consumed an unaccustomed amount of excellent and very expensive Champagne in a very fine restaurant. I say unaccustomed as she had always been a very moderate drinker since we met just two months ago.
Gently closing the door, I stopped as I heard her say with a groan,
“Bloody Norah, my ‘ead ‘urts somethin’ awful!”
It stopped me in my tracks, it was a terrible shock to hear Annabel, my upper class, beautiful, very wealthy wife, utter anything other than with a perfectly impeccable cut glass accent. My blood ran cold, as I thought about the ramifications of this one short sentence I heard when she was still obviously half asleep. This required further investigation, something I neglected to do before. I thought she was head over heels in love with me; eager to tie the knot, and I was happy to oblige.
Over breakfast when she finally appeared, looking slightly the worse for wear, we chatted quite normally. We kissed goodbye tenderly as she left for an appointment with her hairdresser, and then a shopping trip later with one of her friends.
At first, I was furious, and a little upset. I paid for the wedding. Annabel had just arrived from New York and hadn’t sorted out her bank account yet and was temporarily short of funds after a year abroad. That was her excuse, but how could I have fallen for it so easily? I phoned down to the front desk at the hotel we were staying in to see how much the bill was so far. The total amounted to roughly the same as the wedding, which gave me an idea.
Packing my bags, I left the hotel explaining an urgent business trip but my wife would staying until I returned in a couple of days. I left Annabel a note asking her to phone my mobile as I was on my way to Heathrow.
Now I must admit, I was the grifter here, public school, good looking, well dressed, made a fortune in the city, and the rest. None of which was true of course, but I had made some money working various confidence tricks in the last few years. Looks as though I didn’t do enough background checks on my new wife! It looks more than likely that Annabel is in the same line of business, and made the same mistake. Well it was love at first sight, as we had both confessed two days after we met at some charity do in London.
I wondered if she would contact me or just realise that the game was up and cut her losses. Could be interesting, and despite everything she was utterly delightful and I was beginning to see the amusing side of of situation. Perhaps we could work together and make some real money conning other people. Despite the blunder with Annabel, I’d made a good living so far at this game.
My mobile rang a couple of hours later.
“Philip, is that your real name?” she questioned cheerfully, “darling, we really need to talk. I’m at at the Savoy Grill, I’ll buy you lunch. I think we are in the same business and we could make a go of this.”
“See you there, darling,” I said with a smile. I thought I had better return her lap-top now. I had not found anything much of interest. Annabel had covered her tracks quite carefully. There seems to be a distinct lack of trust in this marriage I thought wryly.
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