Maggie
The first inkling I had that something was wrong was when I got a missed call from my bank.
I never usually answer those calls. You know – the ones with withheld numbers or numbers you don’t recognize.
So at first I just ignored it. I assumed it was a cold caller trying to sell me something, but then I got a text saying I’d gone into an unauthorized overdraft and to call my bank immediately.
Ironically, I thought it was a scam at first, but a few minutes later my debit card is declined.
‘I’m sorry.’ The sales assistant looks apologetic.
I’m out shopping for a few last-minute things for our trip to the Maldives and giddy with pre-wedding nerves.
After a lot of discussion, we’ve decided on a small wedding, just the two of us, and what could be more romantic than barefoot on a beach in the Indian Ocean?
It was Theo’s idea. At first I wasn’t sure.
In fact, if I’m honest, I took a bit of persuading.
I wanted my friends and family there, but as Theo pointed out, we don’t have much family; his mum is in a home and mine lives in Spain and it’s not like we’re close.
Plus, all his friends live in LA, so it’s a long way for them to travel.
Put like that it made sense to fly off somewhere together.
Of course, George isn’t happy, but you can’t please everyone, and like Theo says – this is about us and what we want.
‘That’s strange.’ I peer at my card, checking to make sure it’s not expired, then realize the missed call and text must be genuine and feel a slight panic. ‘There must be some mix-up, let me call my bank,’ I say, trying to remain calm.
This kind of thing happens all the time. I’m always reading news articles about it. Scammers trying to get you to click on links and move money to fake accounts.
‘Would you like me to put your things on one side?’
The sales assistant is smiling cheerfully.
I’ve just been telling her that I’m flying to the Maldives to get married in two weeks.
That the sarongs and flip-flops in my basket are for our trip but I still don’t know what to wear for the actual ceremony.
She’s so excited for me, especially as it’s the middle of November and any talk of tropical islands and sunshine is greeted with sighs of envy and a much-needed distraction from the countdown to Christmas that’s already started.
She’s suggested I check out a brand on the fourth floor of the department store; evidently they have some lovely beach dresses.
I’m going to do that just as soon as I’ve straightened things out with my bank.
‘Yes, please, if you don’t mind,’ I smile back.
Normally I’d pay with one of my credit cards, but I just paid for the trip to the Maldives which was an absolute fortune.
Theo’s going to pay me back of course. He just said it made more sense this way as his US credit card charges a foreign transaction fee, plus this way I can get the airmiles as mine’s with BA.
‘I’ll just step outside so I can get better mobile reception. ’
‘Absolutely, no worries,’ she beams, in that way people always do when you mention weddings. There’s so much goodwill and generosity directed towards you when you’re a bride-to-be, like you’re a beacon of hope for everyone’s happy endings. It’s infectious.
Outside on the pavement, I call my bank back. Making sure to google the number and not just click on the missed call. Exactly like they tell you to do on your banking app. Theo laughs at me for being so suspicious; he says I’m being paranoid, but I always say you can’t be too careful.
After going through security, I’m finally put through to someone who confirms they’ve been trying to get in touch. ‘It’s about your account, Ms Fletcher. Are you aware you’ve gone over your pre-authorized overdraft limit?’
I feel a beat of surprise that the text wasn’t a mistake. ‘I’ve gone overdrawn?’
‘Yes, we just wanted to make you aware, as a valued customer.’
‘That’s weird, I never go overdrawn.’
‘You’ve had a couple of substantial amounts come out of your account recently.’
‘Oh yes, I know.’ I feel the panic subside. They must be referring to a large chunk of savings I recently moved into the account that Theo set up for the deposit for our new house, plus my investment into the new business.
Sorry, our future – that’s what Theo always tells me to call it.
‘That will be some transfers I made to my fiancé, plus deposits for things. We’re getting married and looking to buy a new house.’
‘Congratulations.’
‘Thanks.’
Since our engagement almost six months ago, it’s been non-stop, what with trying to sort out the wedding, find a new house and organize our finances.
There’s been so much paperwork involved remortgaging the flat, taking out a business loan and setting up a joint account, plus all the complicated international money transfers for the new business as it’s registered abroad.
There have been times when I feel like I’m drowning in it.
Luckily Theo is so good with stuff like that.
He’s the one that reads all the small print, then just asks me to sign it.
To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do without him.
All that legalese sends me dizzy. Probably something to do with me having an artist’s brain and using the left side, or is it the right? He’s the one with the business brain.
‘Only, your account will accrue interest unless you clear the sum overdrawn.’
‘OK, can I transfer money from my Rewards savings account?’
‘Yes, would you like me to check the balance on that for you?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘OK, one moment while I look into that for you, if you’d like to hold the line . . .’
Annoying elevator music starts playing. I wish they’d just let you wait in silence.
I gaze absently at the passers-by. It’s a grey day and the skies are leaden.
Everyone’s wrapped up in winter coats, scarves and gloves.
It’s hard to believe I’m going to be in bright sunshine and thirty-two-degree heat in a couple of weeks.
I wonder again about a beach wedding. I’m not great in the heat, especially not if it’s humid.
I’ll go red and sweaty. Not exactly the blushing bride, more like beetroot.
I feel a pang of doubt and imagine a winter wedding, somewhere local in the countryside, all my friends, something stylish with sleeves, woodburning stoves and whisky . . .
‘Hi, Ms Fletcher?’ The voice comes back on the line. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’
‘It’s OK.’
A part of me wishes I hadn’t let Theo persuade me. But he was so adamant. And I didn’t want him to go into one of his moods. Anything to avoid that.
‘That account’s been closed.’
‘Closed?’ I snap back.
‘Yes, account ending 3774 was closed several weeks ago and its funds were transferred to an external account.’
I rub my forehead, trying to remember doing that. Like I said, there’s been such a lot of financial paperwork recently – moving funds around, setting up new accounts – that I’ve lost track a bit. I must be getting mixed up with another account. I must have closed this one and not remembered.
‘Would you like me to try a different account?’
‘Um . . . yes . . . can I give you mine and my fiancé’s joint account?’
‘Yes, that’s fine; if you’re both named on the account, you can both withdraw or manage payments. If you want to give me the sort code and account number . . .’
It’s started to rain. I try to seek shelter underneath the awning of the department store, while I juggle various screens on my phone, trying to find the details of our new joint account.
I can feel my happy mood fast disintegrating as stress begins to take over.
I’m looking for a screenshot Theo sent me when he opened it.
The one that showed our balance so I could check our money was safely deposited.
I think it’s in my photos. Or is it my emails?
Ah, there is it is. Quickly, I read out the sort code and account number, then wait again as the person on the other phone disappears and the elevator music returns.
OK, so I might not be the one with the financial brain, but I’m not going to take any risks when it comes to my life savings and Dad’s inheritance.
‘I’m afraid we can’t find an account with that number.’
‘Excuse me?’ The person from the bank is back on the line, only they’re making no sense.
‘Can you repeat the numbers, please? We’re unable to verify it.’
It’s really raining now. Coming down hard and fast. I say the numbers again, slower this time.
Pinching the screen of my phone with wet fingers as I haven’t got my glasses, making sure I haven’t got them the wrong way round.
I can do that with numbers sometimes. I always need to check and check again.
‘No, I’m afraid nothing’s coming up.’
‘I’m sorry, I must have the wrong details.’ I hear myself apologizing. ‘I’ll have to speak to my fiancé, is that OK?’
‘Yes, of course. Would you like me to give you a call back later today?’
‘No, it’s fine. I’ll call you. I’m not sure when I’ll get to speak to him, he’s working abroad.’
‘That’s fine, Ms Fletcher. Just be aware that as you’ve gone over your pre-authorized overdraft agreement, your account will be blocked until we’ve received funds to clear that amount.’