Page 61 of The Match Faker

God knows what he must’ve thought.

I wasn’t here by choice. I used to live in a nice house in Clapham with a mortgage I shared with Boris. But one morning, I’d received a call from the bank that sent my whole world crashing down.

They’d told me that multiple mortgage payments had been missed. I said there must be a mistake. Boris was taking care of the finances. I’d always managed them—after all, I used to work in a bank. But when he saw how busy I was trying to run my new business, he’d offered to take over.

At the time I was grateful that he was finally showing an interest and being supportive.

Little did I know that he was using the money that was meant for bills to invest in some crazy get-rich-quick scheme. Later I discovered he’d also used it to pay for hotels and expensive gifts for different women.

To avoid me seeing the statements and getting caught, he always intercepted the post and moved everything online, using his own password.

I was so focused on my agency, I hadn’t kept track. And the rare times I did remember to ask to see statements, he’d get jumpy and ask if it was because I didn’t trust him. Then I’d feel bad, try to convince him that I did, then say not to worry about showing me. So stupid.

I didn’t find out that I was right to have doubts until it was too late.

Once he’d maxed out his own credit cards, he’d started to use mine. By the time the bank called, he’d run up so much debt that we had to sell the house to cover it, and even then, the perfect credit rating I’d worked so hard to build was ruined. Which meant I couldn’t get another mortgage, loan or credit card.

I’d tried to speak to the bank, but it was my fault. I shouldn’t have shared the PIN for my credit cards. I should’ve been more insistent about checking the statements. I shouldn’t have trusted him. But I did. And now I had to suffer the consequences.

That was why I had to rent a flat in this crummy area. And why now, I always paid every bill as soon as I received it and insisted on getting hard copies of everything and triple-checking that everything had been paid.

It would take years to repair the damage Boris had done. Not just financially, but also emotionally. Knowing that I wasn’t enough for him, so he went elsewhere, multiple times, didn’t exactly help my self-esteem.

But it wouldn’t be forever. There was a good man out there for me. My soulmate. I had to believe that. Otherwise I couldn’t do my job.

Now the plan was working, I had to do whatever I could to win. This competition could change everything. With that prize money, I could get my business off the ground properly and start building my credit rating back up. Then hopefully in a few years, I could find somewhere half-decent to live.

As I turned the corner and walked towards my building, my eyes flew from their sockets. Half a dozen photographers were outside.

I ducked behind a van. Two men walked towards it, then stopped.

‘Dwayne, d’you know which flat a chick called Mia lives at? The posh-looking one.’

‘Who wants to know?’ said a deep voice. Sounded like the boy who lived at the other end of my floor.

‘Dem paps. Said they’d pay.’

‘How much?’

‘Dunno. Lemme ask.’

Their footsteps faded. This wasn’t good. Yeah, I could hold my handbag up to my face to avoid being photographed. But what worried me was that they wanted to know which flat I lived in.

What if they got inside the building? It wasn’t difficult. The lock on the front door didn’t work properly. They could wait outside my door or worse.

I fished my phone from my bag and called Liam.

‘Hey,’ he answered after a few rings. ‘What’s up?’

‘I’m trying not to freak out, but there are some photographers camped outside my building and they’re asking my neighbours what flat I live in. They’re offering them money and I… I don’t know what to do.’

‘Shit. You hiding somewhere?’

‘Yeah. Behind a van. Across the road.’

‘Okay. You can’t stay there. I’ll send a car right now. Is there a shop or somewhere you can go and wait?’

‘I could go to the train station. That’s not too far.’

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