We spent decades subsidising our ‘poor’ friend… then she bought a second home and a £75k Range Rover!

The day we left high school, my five best friends and I made a pact. Our friendship, forged as clumsy eleven-year-olds, would last a lifetime, no matter where our careers or families took us.

And sure enough, we met regularly for 24 years, husband and children in tow, and even went on group holidays together. Last spring, a touchy subject tore our small group apart: money, leading to a sense of betrayal and, I admit, latent jealousy.

For years, Rachel, 41, a project manager, and her husband Rob, 44, a surveyor, living in a modest three-bedroom townhouse, had advocated relative poverty and we had no reason not to believe them.

The rest of us aren’t exactly rich, but we have good careers (I’m a management consultant). Although we’d never discussed salaries – my husband and I earn a total of £100,000 a year, but in the South East this doesn’t stretch very far – I assumed we were in similar boats.

To accommodate Rachel and Rob’s seemingly meager budget, we had cut back on group ski trips, city breaks and staycations and ordered takeaways instead of eating out. We once subsidized Rachel for a girls’ holiday to Malta when she said she couldn’t afford the accommodation. When we had takeaways at my house, I didn’t go after her to pay me back.

However, at a meeting in April last year they pulled up in a brand new Range Rover, which wouldn’t have left them much change on £75,000. A big step forward compared to their old Volvo.

“It’s as great as I thought it would be,” Rob said.

Glances were exchanged around the room; Shouldn’t they be stuck for cash? Perhaps they had had a secret windfall: an inheritance or a bonus at work.

But a few months later, when we had a girls’ weekend, Rachel let us know that “Rob and I just bought a second house as an investment to rent out.” When one of the group repeated her words in surprise, she replied, “Yes, we have been saving for years.”

Apparently it’s a three-bedroom terraced house near where we grew up in Cambridgeshire, not grand, but buying a second home is in stark contrast to our stress about higher mortgage rates on our only property.

Disbelief rippled through the group as we realized they had fooled us. All those years of pretending they couldn’t afford this or that, while secretly amassing a piggy bank containing hundreds of thousands!

After the weekend away, a Rachel-less WhatsApp group was created so the rest of us could vent our anger while remembering the countless times we changed our plans so they could join in.

I was furious when I thought about the fuss Rachel had made about my fortieth birthday eighteen months earlier.

In retrospect, this was perhaps the most hurtful compromise. I had planned a weekend away at a beautiful cottage in Norfolk. When I presented my suggestion and prices – £200 per couple for three nights – Rachel immediately replied: ‘We won’t, we can’t afford it.’

She continued with, “Surely you can find a cheaper place, otherwise we’ll have to go away for a weekend?” I was disappointed, but sympathetic, believing they were under financial pressure. Instead we went out for afternoon tea.

A friend was furious that we had paid for Rachel’s hotel room in Malta. And another reminded us that when Rachel and Rob hosted a barbecue a few summers earlier, they asked everyone to contribute to the cost of food and drinks. Then there was the planned ski trip which they said was extravagant (it wasn’t) so we switched from Italy to Bulgaria to save about £300 per couple.

Now we know they saved hundreds of thousands of pounds.

Who knows where their splurge will end: they’re planning a major kitchen expansion next. You might be thinking it’s a case of the green-eyed monster on my part. I admit I was jealous of the second property.

And it has made me and my husband rethink our own financial decisions. We’ve both lost loved ones and our attitude is that life is short, so we spend some and save some.

But the real reason for my anger is a feeling of betrayal. If they had opened up about the reasons why we were having such a hard time, we would have understood, but probably not been as accommodating in reducing our group plans.

The deception cuts deep and the other girls feel the same. Our husbands’ opinions are more divided; some say we should leave them alone. However, a year later, my husband thinks it’s time to get Rachel and Rob involved again.

We should have explained how betrayed we felt. Instead, we talk behind their backs and it has become easier not to involve them.

We all felt a strange sense of relief and guilt the first time we met for dinner without them. But it’s not the same anymore now that a core member of our group is missing. Sadness is my dominant emotion because I love Rachel. She is the most loyal of friends, but money can change people and I have no doubt that Rob was the main motivation for keeping their savings plan to himself.

We are planning a short holiday to Mallorca. Feeling guilty, we decided to let Rachel and Rob know. As always, their first question was, “How much will it cost?”

This time we said that we will stick to the flights and accommodation we have reserved, so they will not come. No doubt we have money set aside for their new kitchen. I don’t think they are aware of the pain they have caused.

So it turns out that our friendship pact won’t amount to much. I hope their new loot was worth it.

Names have been changed.

As told to SADIE NICHOLAS