Lesley had waited 25 years for her dream man to come along, but there was something fishy about his job at sea…
Placing the cuppa on my bedside table, I pulled back the duvet and got into bed.
‘One last check,’ I muttered, before grabbing my phone.
It was late, but I couldn’t help scrolling through Facebook before I went to sleep.
Without a partner or children, I often turned to it for company.
As it loaded, I saw a friend request pop up.
Who’s Frank Albameyers? I thought.
I didn’t know him, and we didn’t have any mutual friends, but his silver hair and handsome features reminded me of Paul Hollywood.
Then I noticed he’d sent me a message.
Hi Lesley, it read.
Intrigued, I typed back.
I hadn’t been in a relationship for 25 years.
It was nice having a man to talk to, even if it was just platonic.
We got chatting and he told me more about himself.
He was Italian and 58 years old — four years younger than me.
I live in New York but in four months I’m going to work on an oil rig. I’m a marine engineer, read his message.
Then he told me the sad news that his wife had died.
I’m a single dad to my 13-year-old daughter, he explained.
I’m so sorry for your loss, I told him.
We constantly exchanged messages and we began to talk on the phone twice a week.
It was only for a few minutes at a time.
‘Can we do a video call? I want to see you,’ I said.
‘I wish I could, but it won’t work on my phone,’ he replied.
Despite this, we were in constant contact.
A few weeks later, he became flirtatious.
You’re so beautiful. I want to grow old with you, he messaged.
I was hesitant, but as the days went on, I started to develop feelings of my own.
'I need £1,200 for a heated suit'
‘Buongiorno,’ I’d say, greeting him in Italian when he called.
‘Buongiorno Lesley, te amo,’ he replied.
I didn’t need to know the language to know what that meant.
And his gorgeous accent gave me butterflies.
After a couple of months, our flirty chit-chat took a more serious turn.
‘Will you marry me?’ he asked.
‘Oh my!’ I exclaimed.
I had nothing to lose.
‘Yes, I will,’ I replied with a giggle.
Even though it was happening so fast, I’d waited for my dream man long enough.
‘When we’re married, my daughter and I will come and live with you,’ he explained.
‘I’d love that,’ I replied.
When I told my best friend Moyra, she was supportive.
‘You don’t think I’m rushing into this, do you?’ I asked.
‘No, you should go for it,’ she replied.
Days later, a small package arrived for me in the post.
As I unwrapped it, I gasped.
It was a lovely silver engagement ring.
But in place of a big shiny diamond was a piece of shell.
‘To remind you of me,’ he explained later.
The shell was a nod to his work as a marine engineer.
It was so thoughtful.
A month later, he went to the oil rig for work.
They only feed us crackers. Can you send me money for food? he texted, a few nights later.
That’s terrible! Of course I’ll help, I replied.
If you send Amazon vouchers, I can exchange them for cash, he told me.
Well, if that’s easiest for you, I replied.
I sent £200.
It quickly became a regular occurrence.
Soon, he had another request.
It’s so cold here, I need £1,200 for a heated suit to work in, he said.
Because it was a larger amount, I had to send it through Western Union.
But he soon complained he hadn’t received it all.
The coastal guards take 30 per cent of the money you send me, he said.
I sent him various amounts of money each week to get him by.
In the meantime, I was out one day browsing through charity shops, when I came across a purple diamanté evening gown.
‘This could be my wedding dress,’ I said.
I decided to keep it a secret from Frank, to surprise him on our big day.
And I knew of the perfect church only eight miles away from me.
That’s where we’ll tie the knot, I thought.
I couldn’t wait for Frank to move in with me.
Although he couldn’t pin down a date because of his job, I was happy to wait.
I’m trying to get my visa sorted, he told me.
One day, he sent me a picture that made me gasp in horror.
It was a photo of his daughter’s leg in a cast.
I thought it was odd that it only showed her from the neck down, but I assumed he was being overly protective.
Her leg got broken at school, I need £800 for medical bills, he typed.
That poor girl, I replied.
As months went by, I started to get frustrated.
When are you coming? I asked.
Please be patient, honey, he replied.
The constant badgering for money was starting to grate too.
Doubts started to creep in.
What if Frank wasn’t who he said he was?
I asked him outright.
I’m telling the truth about everything. I swear on your parents’ graves, he said.
With that, I believed him.
Soon, I sent him £3,000 to buy machinery for work.
‘Thank you, my queen. You are my world,’ he said on the phone that night.
It was a lot of money, but I kept picturing my dream life with my gorgeous hubby.
But a whole year went by and then another, and he still hadn’t even come to visit me.
My patience was wearing thin — and so was my bank balance.
‘I need to take some equity out of my house,’ I told Moyra.
‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she replied.
I knew it was risky.
I owned my house outright and I could lose it if I couldn’t make the repayments.
But Frank was my fiancé.
I would do anything for him and our future.
So I took out the equity loans in three amounts, each one around £30,000.
Before I knew it, we’d been together just over three years.
When I added up the total amount I’d sent him, my mouth dropped in shock.
It came to £160,000.
Then, when a couple of days went by and I hadn’t heard from Frank, a bad feeling came over me.
He’d never gone a day without messaging or calling.
Now he was even ignoring my messages.
My mind went over all the strange reasons he used to give for wanting money.
I’d never even seen his face on a video call.
A few days later after more radio silence, it hit me like a ton of bricks.
I’ve been conned! I realised.
When it hit me that Frank didn’t exist, I was heartbroken.
‘How could I have been so stupid!’ I shrieked.
I contacted my bank but they couldn’t help, because I hadn’t sent the money through bank transfers.
A couple of times, he’d asked me to send cash to an address in the UK.
I tracked it down and the man living there sang like a canary.
He told me the person behind the profile was a 49-year-old Nigerian man.
He even gave me his name and address.
I immediately reported him to the Nigerian police.
Then, when I went on a website for scam victims, I came across three other women who’d been fooled by him too.
Altogether we’d given him £400,000.
I hope he’ll be stopped so that no other unsuspecting women go through what I did.
And to think he’d sworn on my parents’ graves that he wasn’t lying.
Now I’m struggling to make ends meet and I’ll never own my home again.
It wasn’t just money. I lost a fiancé and a stepdaughter too. Frank was no marine engineer — just a hopeless, sinking ship.
Lesley Poole, 65, Hainault, Essex