When James’s ex Marta became seriously ill, he helped pay for her treatment. But the truth
sent him reeling…
Walking into the pub, I spotted a small, feisty blonde arguing with the barmaid.
‘How can you call this a strawberry daiquiri when it doesn’t have real strawberries in?’ she fumed.
‘You must be Marta,’ I said.
She turned round and smiled. ‘Yes, and you must be James,’ she replied.
We’d matched on a dating app and arranged to meet up.
Despite the fiery start, once we’d sat down, I was impressed by Marta.
She had old-fashioned values, dressed elegantly and loved classic films.
We were soon official but just
a month in, things fizzled out and I went travelling.
But I missed Marta and when I got back, we decided to make a proper go of things.
‘Move in with me,’
I said a couple of months later.
For the next two years, we were happy.
Neither of us believed in marriage, but we talked about travelling the world.
But during lockdown, things started to deteriorate.
One night, I came home from a long shift as a chef to find Marta had been drinking.
'Thank you, I'll pay you back'
Cans of cider littered the front room and she was sprawled on the sofa.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
But I couldn’t get any sense out of her.
Angry and upset, I decided to go to my dad’s, but when I got back, Marta was still drinking and the house was a mess.
It was clear she had a problem so I encouraged her to get help and got her a job where I worked.
Marta seemed to improve and normality resumed.
But it wasn’t to last. Weeks later, she hit the bottle again.
Whenever she was drunk, she’d lash out verbally at me.
I always felt as
if I was walking on eggshells.
I’d even bathe her as she’d stopped looking after herself.
It was heartbreaking.
‘I’ll stop drinking,’ she promised, but I’d find bottles of booze hidden around the house.
I called the police and social workers, but nobody seemed
to help.
After a tense Christmas, I made a decision.
‘I can’t take it any more,’ I said. ‘I want you out of my life.’
But she refused to leave.
My frustration got the better of me and I pushed her outside.
She fell and banged her knee and elbow.
I felt terrible and ashamed. I’d never done anything like that before.
I apologised, but Marta pressed charges.
I pleaded guilty to common assault and was asked to go on
a building better relationships course.
Meanwhile, Marta stayed in my house, while I had to move to Dad’s, because she claimed she had nowhere else to go.
Three months later, she finally left.
But when I got home, my house was in complete chaos.
I never wanted to see Marta again and tried to move on.
Only, two months later, I got
a call. It was Marta and she seemed distressed.
‘I’ve stopped drinking and got a job, but my boss has done a runner with my wages,’ she said. ‘Can you help?’
I felt bad for her and agreed to send £820 for living expenses.
‘Thank you, I’ll pay you back,’ she said.
But as time went on, she kept making excuses.
Then, a month later, she told me she was in hospital after collapsing and had been sectioned.
I knew she suffered from depression and was worried about her.
Weeks passed and one day,
I got a call from a man called
Dr Jahavar Singh.
‘Marta is very ill and requires lifesaving treatment,’ he said, explaining she had encephalitis of the brain and had been placed in an induced coma.
‘Oh my God!’ I gasped.
He claimed that he’d paid out of his own pocket and asked me to cover the costs, to later be reimbursed by NHS England.
‘But it’s not my problem,’ I said, confused. ‘She has family in Poland.’
‘She’s told us you are her next of kin,’ he said.
After that, I was bombarded with calls every few days, asking for hundreds of pounds.
I felt pressured to help her, but it left me struggling to pay my bills.
A month later, my mobile rang.
‘Marta has deteriorated and needs more treatment and injections,’ Dr Singh said.
My heart raced with anxiety.
Days later, another one of Marta’s doctors said she had a 50% chance of survival.
I was devastated and broke down in tears.
I was very concerned about her but by then, I’d handed over £15k and had nothing left.
'I couldn't believe what she'd done'
‘You’ll get the money back,’ a nurse called Eva said, telling me my ex’s disability benefit and compensation were due.
I also got various emails
from Citizens Advice and the NHS backing up Marta’s claims about her illness and giving complicated reasons for why
my money hadn’t been returned as promised.
Marta also assured me I’d be reimbursed.
I wasn’t sleeping and most of my wages were going towards Marta’s treatment.
Then weeks later, Marta was discharged from hospital.
I was relieved she was better and assumed that would be an end to the demands for money.
But not long after, Marta called me in tears, claiming she couldn’t afford her medication and also needed money for vet bills and rent.
‘I’ve got bailiffs at the door,’ she cried.
‘What about your benefits?’ I asked. ‘Is this some sort of con?’
But she forwarded me emails from Citizens Advice saying her finances were in a mess and they were working on getting money back from the bank.
I had to resort to borrowing cash from friends, family and colleagues.
It was humiliating.
One day, a colleague took me aside.
‘This seems dodgy,’ he said. ‘Are you sure she’s telling the truth?’
‘I know it sounds odd,
but I’ve got the emails to back it up,’ I replied.
Meanwhile, letters from my mortgage company warned me I was at risk of losing my house if I didn’t keep up repayments.
I was out of my mind with stress, but I believed that I
was doing the right thing by helping Marta. But in almost two years, I didn’t receive a single penny back.
One night, I was waiting on a railway station platform and a dark thought ran through my head.
But the faces of my loved ones filled my mind, and I stepped away from the edge.
Months later, I got a call from
a social worker because she’d mistakenly thought
I was the father of one of Marta’s children.
What she told me sent me reeling…
She said Marta was physically well and didn’t have any medical conditions.
‘You’re saying there’s nothing wrong with her?’
I said.
‘No,’ she replied.
‘I can’t believe she’s done this,’ I said, in complete shock.
She’d spun a cunning web of lies to convince me she was seriously ill.
I realised the doctor, nurse and the official-looking emails were all fake.
She’d taken advantage of my kindness and scammed me out of £34,234.
I couldn’t breathe.
‘Phone the police and tell them everything,’ she said.
Without hesitating, I dialled 999.
My phone, bank statements and the file of fake emails I’d been sent were taken away.
It was a complex investigation, but a year later, Marta was charged with 10 counts of fraud by false representation.
Days before she was due to stand trial, Marta Szymanska,
43, pleaded guilty at Chester Crown Court.
Part of me was relieved, but another felt I’d been cheated as she wouldn’t have to explain herself.
I went to court to see her sentenced, but felt let down when she received a 20-month suspended sentence after probation officers said she’d had a difficult childhood.
Sentencing, Judge Steven Everett told her,
‘You conned Mr Andrews in a particularly sophisticated and cruel way pretending that you were ill and pretending that
there were difficulties.’
Now, I feel ashamed and foolish to have fallen for her cruel and calculated con, but she was someone I’d loved and cared for and I had no reason not to believe her.
The idea of opening up to anyone terrifies me and I fear
I may never recover financially
or mentally.
James Andrews, 49, Northwich, Cheshire