Читать книгу Who Are You?: With one click she found her perfect man. And he found his perfect victim. A true story of the ultimate deception. - Megan Henley - Страница 9

September 2009–November 2009

I didn’t know whether telling me such upsetting things had distressed Vic more than he let on, but within days of our meeting he posted that he was going to stop work for a while to deal with ‘personal stuff’. StreetBeats would be kept going by Valerie, and the two other members of the collective he’d spoken about, Leah and Clare. I was soon getting messages from all three, who were always friendly and chatty, although clearly worried about Vic.

In one of her first comments to me, Leah said:

We all so glad he met you Megan. He not stopped talking about you and how he felt he could tell you anything. For Vic to have that sort of instant connection with anyone is so special – he a friendly guy, but quite guarded given his background. You good for him!

It turned out that Leah was Belgian, so her English was sometimes a little erratic, but a million times better than my attempts at any other language! Clare agreed with what her colleague and friend had said:

Vic’s having hard time but u have made it so much better. When he came back from meeting u he had obviously got so much out of his system. Think that’s where he got strength to take a bit of time out. Thanks hun xx

They all told me that meeting me had been the only positive thing to happen to Vic in a long while. I didn’t feel overwhelmed by them, they were all so nice, but I do admit to being flattered. I’d broken up with Christopher and sworn off men for a very long time – possibly for ever, given how I felt – but this was all innocent and playful. Valerie had previously told me how there were always groupies hanging around gigs, and that women were constantly throwing themselves at Vic. She also said that he had no interest in that sort of encounter and that it would have to be a very special person who caught his heart. I didn’t think for a minute that was me, I wasn’t attracted to him in that way at all, but it was nice to think that someone so successful, so sought after, had seen something in me that was different.

Valerie was by far the chattiest of the collective members and she was the one I’d been in contact with almost from the start. She started to tell me much more about Vic’s life and confirmed so much of what he had told me; in fact, from what she said, he’d actually held back on a lot of things. Vic’s father, Jay, had been terribly abusive, throwing him into baths of boiling hot water as a child, scrubbing him with abrasive kitchen cleaner, beating him senseless. Vic had been around guns and knives since he was a baby, even putting a gun in his own mouth when he was four. His dad had been arrested for murder at one point, but got off through some sort of bribe that his cohorts had managed to set up. All of this affected me a great deal. Ruby was still so little and anything to do with cruelty to children broke my heart – first the charity, now this. I could barely believe the awfulness of some parents, as Vic’s mother, Isabella, had colluded with so much of the violence and abuse. From what he had told me, she was too scared of Jay herself to stand up to him and stop him hurting the kids, but I just couldn’t understand what kind of mother would stay in that situation. Although his mother was afraid of his father, she was always kind to the kids, and would cuddle the children and tend to their injuries whenever he was out of sight. Vic had a lot of love for his mother and never blamed her for not standing up to his dad as he realised what an impossible predicament she was in. The gypsy situation was certainly baffling. For Vic to have come through all of that and then lose his own son seemed a terrible tragedy.

Valerie was never over the top in what she told me – there was a balance between talking about music and telling me how he was amazing to have come through so much, and I couldn’t help agreeing. I genuinely felt that he was one of the good guys. Some people let their pasts consume them, but Vic was so keen to help others and make a new life for himself. With Valerie, Leah and Clare all telling me that he was smitten, I suppose I wasn’t entirely surprised when, one day, unannounced, Vic turned up at my house.

‘Guess who?’ he said, with a sheepish grin when I opened the door. ‘Was just passing, so thought I’d give you the pleasure of my company for a little while, Miss Henley.’

‘Just passing more than two hundred miles or so?’ I asked. ‘That sounds plausible!’

I invited him in for a coffee and we chatted just as easily as we had the first time.

‘I’m really sorry that things have been so hard for you,’ I told him. We were sitting in my kitchen, with the sun streaming in gloriously, big mugs of tea in our hands, and Maxie desperately trying to get some attention from the visitor. He didn’t have to try very hard; Vic cuddled and played with him, and I could see that he loved dogs. I felt very comfortable with Vic, especially given how good he was with Maxie, but wasn’t too sure why he was here. ‘Are you back at work yet?’

‘Now and again, bits and bobs,’ he answered distractedly. ‘Nice dog.’

The way he was with Maxie was one of the things I really liked about Vic. I always thought – and still do – that you can tell a lot about a person by how they are with animals. He didn’t fuss, he didn’t go overboard; he was just natural and friendly with my dog. We had a lovely time for a couple of hours or so, talking about everything and nothing. It felt very relaxed but I really needed to get to work.

‘No problem,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to see you really, Miss Henley. You cheer me up, you do.’

I had to smile. The way he called me ‘Miss Henley’ was sweet. I knew that he wasn’t being formal, but it felt warm, not too pushy, not as if he was making a pet name for me, just a little in-joke between new friends.

‘Just need to pop to the loo, then I’ll be heading off,’ I told him.

Vic swept his arm before him in a grand gesture.

‘Whatever the lady needs to do,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait here and see you off the premises.’

I heard him rinsing the cups as I ran upstairs. Five minutes later, I was ready to go. He held the kitchen door for me and I locked it behind us. Walking over to my car, he waited while I put the key in the ignition.

‘Have a successful novelty-buying trip,’ he winked, referring to my appointment at an old country house, where I was hoping to pick up some things for my business.

‘I’ll do what I can,’ I told him, turning the key.

Nothing.

The engine tried to turn over, but nothing.

I tried again, with the same result.

‘Bugger,’ I muttered.

Vic had been walking back to his own car, but turned back. ‘Problem?’ he asked.

‘Not sure why it’s being temperamental now,’ I sighed, trying it again. ‘It’s usually no bother.’

Still, there was no sign of life.

‘Really?’ I hissed.

‘I don’t know much about cars,’ said Vic quietly, screwing up his eyes and looking at it hopelessly. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Absolutely none …’ I admitted. ‘Maybe I should just leave it a minute and try again?’

‘Can’t do any harm,’ he agreed.

He got in the car and waited beside me, both of us useless, and then I tried again. And again. And again. Completely dead.

‘Oh, God!’ I wailed, thumping the steering wheel. ‘I’ve got to get to that appointment, and pick Ruby up, and a hundred other things! I’ll have to see if I can get a garage to come out and collect it. It’s always been such a reliable car – why now?’ I said, knowing full well that I didn’t have the money for a garage to come to the house, but not seeing what else I could do.

‘Take mine,’ said Vic.

‘What?’

‘Take my car – go to your appointment, load the boot up with what you buy, get your little girl, and I’ll help you unload it all when you get back.’

‘Really? Are you sure? You’re a lifesaver!’ I declared, kissing him on the cheek. ‘Do you not need to be anywhere?’

He looked at me, the sadness welling up in his eyes. ‘To be honest, Megan, I’d rather not be around anyone just now. You calm me down, you don’t expect anything from me. I’ll wait here, have a little think with your lovely dog at my side, and the tea will be brewed when you get back.’

I was so relieved. He maybe didn’t know anything about cars, but Vic had made my day a whole lot easier with that one offer. By the time I got back – with Ruby and a pile of treasure – there was a pot of tea and dinner waiting on me, Max had been walked and I had a vague feeling that some tidying up had been attempted.

‘Just call me your guardian angel,’ smiled Vic. By the time Ruby was in bed, we’d come to an agreement. He would kindly let me use his car for as long as I needed it in exchange for being able to sleep on the sofa and get some peace.

‘I love everyone in the collective,’ he told me as the day drew to a close, ‘but, by God, do I need a break from the sympathetic looks and sad faces. You, Miss Henley, treat me as if I’m almost normal.’

He was a perfect gentlemen. There was nothing physical between us, he never pushed his luck in any way; we just muddled along for a couple of days exchanging my sofa for his car. I knew that he needed to get his head together after all of the troubles he’d been through, and, to be honest, it was nice to have him around. He seemed safe – and I needed that. There was also a part of me which enjoyed being able to provide a refuge for such a damaged soul; I wasn’t sexually attracted to Vic in the slightest but I did want to be there for him, to be supportive and kind. I also liked the fact that he usually lived four hours away, so if things did go sour it wasn’t as if he would be able to keep popping in. He was a thoughtful house guest, always willing to take Max for a walk or help Ruby with her homework, and on the fourth day he also suggested that he give me a hand while I looked for a new car.

‘I can’t fix them,’ he said, ‘but I can hopefully stop you getting sold an old banger again.’

I jumped at the chance. A couple of days later we found the perfect one for me – it was cheap (it had to be), but it seemed in great condition. Vic helped me to get a good deal, and I drove home elated.

‘That’s you sorted then,’ he told me that night, ‘and I feel a million times better too. I can’t thank you enough for giving me this time to just be here without any demands.’ He said he’d be leaving the next day around lunchtime, and we made plans to meet up at the start of the next month.

I drove Ruby to school and got home just in time to find Vic loading up his own car. He didn’t have much luggage as he hadn’t planned to stay to begin with, so it wouldn’t take long. ‘Is there anything else you need for the trip?’ I asked him.

‘A sandwich?’ he asked, trying to give me puppy dog eyes. ‘Some biscuits?’

I laughed. ‘Go on then – I’ll do you a packed lunch if you give me a couple of minutes!’ However, as I was getting things ready it dawned on me how nice it had been to have him around. He must have been thinking the same thing because, as I absentmindedly buttered the bread, he wandered into the kitchen.

‘Megan …’ he began, ‘I don’t want you to feel under any pressure at all but …’

‘I know exactly what you’re going to say,’ I told him.

‘Are you a mind reader, Miss Henley?’ he asked, laughing.

‘I can certainly tell when someone is easy and there’s no need to change it,’ I replied.

‘So – I’ll unpack the car, will I?’ he asked, giving me a hug. I nodded and hugged him back.

We were very comfortable around each other and, one night, when I was in the living room listing stock on my website, Vic came in.

‘Megan,’ he began. ‘I’m not sure how to say this but … I’ve just had a really odd email.’

He’d been lazing around in the kitchen on his own laptop when the first message had come through.

Having fun with your slag?

‘Do they mean me?’ I screeched. ‘Who sent that?’

He shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I mean, I assume it’s talking about you, but it doesn’t say who it’s from.’

‘Well, who have you been talking to? Who does it say it’s from?’

‘See for yourself,’ he replied.

The email address it was from simply read ‘a friend’, then the host. I was no expert on anything technological.

‘You must be able to find out who it’s from?’

‘I’m as clueless as you. Only the collective know about you, really, and it obviously isn’t from them. But Megan – it isn’t the only one.’

He showed me a series of emails that had come in, with about ten minutes between each one.

She’s a liar you know.

You needn’t think she’ll make you happy.

She’ll lie to you, cheat on you, play you for a fool.

Have you worked out that she’s a dirty whore yet?

You must be an idiot to be hanging around that slut.

‘Vic! These are absolutely horrible – what can we do? Call the police?’ I said.

‘Not likely,’ he scoffed. ‘No one’s saying stuff like that about you, no one.’ Vic held out his arms to me and I buried my head in his chest. Who hated me so much that they would say these things?

‘It must be someone you know,’ I told him. ‘If they were sent to your email address, they must know you and they’re being nasty to you.’

He thought for a bit. ‘Maybe. It’s easy enough to find a way to email me, but it’s a bit odd that they’ve picked on you rather than just tell me that I’m a tosser or something like that. It’s … well, it’s a bit personal to you, really.’

He was right. It was horrible to have these things, these lies, said about me by someone I didn’t know. The tears started falling uncontrollably as Vic tried to console me.

‘It’s all a lot of crap,’ he said. ‘Someone just doesn’t want us to be happy – and, do you know what, Miss Henley? I’ve been very happy indeed here with you since your rubbish car managed to bring us together.’

He turned my face up towards his and kissed me properly for the first time. We’d mucked about a bit before, sometimes play-fighting and tickling each other like overgrown kids, but, this time, we finally admitted just how close we’d grown. Something horrible had brought us together, but now we had eventually broken down the barriers and shown how we felt about each other.

We stayed on the sofa that evening, wrapped up in each other, and I finally calmed down. The next morning, Vic was up and about before I woke. When I rubbed my eyes and stretched my legs, there was a cup of tea beside me and he was making a cushion pile for Maxie on the floor beside me.

‘Well, it looks like he’ll be comfortable,’ I smiled.

‘Got to keep the boss of the house happy, haven’t we?’ said Vic.

‘Is that me or Maxie?’ I asked.

‘You’ll never know,’ he laughed, as Maxie settled happily into his new sleep area. ‘Ruby’s had her breakfast and she’s getting ready for school. I’ll drop her off – you just take your time to face the day, my love.’

He was so kind, so genuine. He was funny and played well with Ruby. I loved that he didn’t mind making a fool of himself with her when they played; that was a good sign in my mind. There was never any pressure from him for me to do anything or to say anything; it was all at my pace, and I felt so lucky to have him around. I dreaded to think how I would have coped without him, given all of my car problems, and I now felt rotten that I was bringing all of this trouble to his door with the nasty emails. Hopefully, that was a one-off; whoever had sent them had got their cheap thrill, and it had backfired in any case. Instead of the lies making Vic doubt me, it had brought us much closer together.

With Ruby at school, and Max ensconced for the day, Vic and I pottered about in the cottage for the rest of the morning. He would kiss me on the cheek or the top of my head every time he passed, but I didn’t feel his affection was claustrophobic in any way.

While I was in the kitchen making us some lunch, I heard him call to me.

‘Megan? Megan, love – can you come here for a minute?’

He was sitting at his laptop and my heart sank. I just knew, from the look on his face, that there had been more messages. I was right.

Are you stupid?

Why are you digging yourself in deeper?

You know she’s a liar, I told you that.

Do you know she’s a prostitute too?

Do you know she has sex with any man who will pay her?

Do you have any idea how many men she has slept with?

Has she told you? She won’t have told you. She’s a liar and a slag.

Ask her. Ask her what it’s like being a whore. Ask her.

The same comments, over and over again. Whoever it was just kept on sending message after message. Vic’s inbox was full of them – all from ‘a friend’.

Liar.

Whore.

Slag.

Prostitute.

Liar.

Whore.

Slag.

Prostitute.

Liar.

Whore.

Slag.

Prostitute.

I sat there, beside Vic, and couldn’t believe the quantity of the messages. Why was someone doing this? Who was doing this? Why were they sending them to Vic? Did that mean they hated me or him?

It went on for the next three days, non-stop. Every time Vic looked, there were more messages. Again I suggested calling the police, but he told me that he was giving ‘a friend’ enough rope to hang themselves. I had to ask him the question that was tearing me up.

‘Vic – do you believe them?’ I whispered.

He looked at me with horror.

‘How can you even ask that?’ he replied. ‘It’s maybe a bit early to say this, but I adore you, Miss Henley. This nasty piece of work hasn’t accounted for that. There’s only one liar here, and that’s them.’ I was so relieved, but I still didn’t know why it was happening. ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Vic. ‘Jealousy? Jealous of me; jealous of us? People can be nasty …’

He’d been through so much already; I hated the thought that I was the person who was bringing even more trouble to his door, but Vic assured me that all he cared about was how this was affecting me. That night, however, the nastiness got even worse. It was as if the person calling themselves ‘a friend’ was just pushing and pushing in the hope that they would finally get a reaction.

Have you found the pictures yet? they asked.

Have you found the special photographs your girlfriend likes posing for?

‘What are they talking about?’ asked Vic.

‘I’ve no idea! It’s just another lie,’ I told him.

Does she not make enough money being a prostitute?

Does she make more money from doing porn or more from having sex with strangers?

Do you think you’ll catch something, Vic?

Are you worried that your girlfriend is such a slag?

Do you think your friends will see her porn pics?

Do you hate her for posing like that?

Do you hate her for being a whore?

Do you hate her, Vic?

It was non-stop and, after the first couple of days, started to flood in from a lot of different sources and different email addresses. ‘A friend’ was joined by ‘Friend 101’, ‘Another Friend’, ‘Justlookingoutforyou’, and dozens more. It was as if Vic was getting hardly any other correspondence, just a deluge of this nasty stuff from God knows where.

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ he told me. ‘You just get on with your life, look after Ruby, look after Maxie. I’ll deal with this. I’ll find out who has done this, don’t you worry.’

But Vic was as useless with computers as I was. There was no way either of us could tackle this on our own. I was so ashamed at what was being said about me, but Vic needed to contact a friend of his called Martin, who was a computer expert. They’d lost touch with each other in the past few years, so I agreed that Vic could tell Valerie what was going on in the hope that she could find the man who might be able to help us.

Don’t you worry, darling, she messaged, Vic’s great to have on your side when things go wrong but God help anyone who messes with him or those he cares for. He’ll sort this out, don’t doubt that. With a family like his, he’s learned plenty in the past about tracking people down and fixing them.

He couldn’t do it alone, but, thankfully, Valerie did find Martin. He was living in Spain, but more than happy to help us out. My relief at his offer of assistance was soon overcome by the horror of what he found.

Vic/Megan – who is Christopher? he emailed one day.

Christopher.

My ex.

From that point, with Martin’s help, it all became clear. At some point – while we were together, or just as we split up – Christopher had placed some very sophisticated spyware on my laptop. He had been able to read all of my emails and FB messages, knew everything I had said to Vic, Valerie and the others, and was well aware that I was falling into a relationship with another man. Martin managed to remove the spyware and put a lot of complicated protection in place, but he also warned me that there was no way of knowing how long Christopher had been spying on me. I felt so vulnerable. I’d been going about my business, messaging and emailing, and all the time I was being watched. I had trusted Christopher, I’d had a relationship with him, and yet this was what he really thought of me.

Vic had been sent such disgusting messages – and now I felt that they showed what Christopher really thought of me. I was so grateful to Vic for his help, but I did feel exposed in front of him. He didn’t know me well enough to really appreciate that Christopher’s words were all lies; for all he knew, I could have been some porn-loving, lying prostitute.

There was stress in every area of my life by now – broken cars, people telling lies about me, discovering that I’d been spied on for goodness knows how long. Thank God there was someone to look out for me. Vic continued to care, he continued to indulge Max, and be great with Ruby. He didn’t bombard me with gushing declarations of love, but he surrounded me with safety and security. He was a sweet, caring guy – maybe he wouldn’t win any beauty awards, but that isn’t what matters. I thought he had an amazing strength of character to have recovered from so much and yet still be trying to make other people’s lives better, and now going out of his way to help me. He was strong, he was emotionally connected – he was just what I needed, and I don’t believe life is a rehearsal … so I fell for him.

Hook, line and sinker.