Desperate Measures (11 page)
‘Why would anyone want to commission a copy?’ Cheryl asked.
‘I should imagine that if you own the genuine article, the cost of insurance to have it on display would be astronomical, let alone the risk of robbery. It would be far safer to place it in a vault and just show a copy.’
‘I get it,’ Paula said. ‘You think we should buy a fake and pass it off to Cheryl’s dealer as genuine.’
‘I don’t think it would work,’ Cheryl said. ‘I can’t see him being fooled by a copy.’
‘I don’t see why not,’ said Val. ‘He’s an antique dealer, not an art specialist.’
‘He knew enough to spot my grandmother’s painting, despite the fact that it was so dirty you could hardly see a signature.’
‘He may have just decided to take a chance. After all, he only gave you a pittance for everything, so even if he’d been wrong about the painting, he wouldn’t have been out of pocket.’
‘That’s just it. He’s hardly going to part with two thousand pounds unless he’s
sure
the painting we offer him is genuine.’
‘If he thinks it’s worth a lot more, he might,’ Val insisted.
Betty spoke for the first time. ‘I think Cheryl’s right. It wouldn’t work.’
Val sighed. ‘I still think it has possibilities, but admit it needs far more thought. Let’s all mull it over and then talk again this weekend.’
The others all nodded in agreement and for a while they were quiet, but then Paula said, ‘I still can’t get over that bastard’s sentence. Five years. It ain’t bleedin’ right.’
‘I know, love,’ Betty consoled, ‘but at least he’s out of the way for a good few years and you can get on with your life.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so.’
‘That’s the ticket,’ said Val. ‘Try not to dwell on his sentence, and instead think about how we can get back at Cheryl’s dealer.’
Betty yawned widely. ‘Ooh sorry, but it’s been a long day and I’m worn out.’
‘Me too,’ said Cheryl, ‘and if you don’t mind, Val, I think I’ll go home.’
‘I’ll give you both a lift,’ Val offered.
With obvious reluctance, Paula rose to her feet. ‘When are we meeting up again?’
‘Let’s say here on Saturday morning, around eleven o’clock.’
‘I’m on nights for a week after that,’ Cheryl warned.
‘Don’t worry, if we haven’t come up with anything by the weekend, we can still mull it over until you’re free again.’
They left the flat, and in the hall Betty gave Paula a hug. ‘See you soon, love.’
Val saw how they clung to each other and felt a stab of envy. She had grown fond of both of them, but found it hard to be spontaneously demonstrative. When a sales rep she’d been too busy to make friends and, other than Mike Freeman, she had never grown close to anyone.
They all chorused goodbye, but outside Val felt an autumn chill in the air. Intent on putting Ian Parker behind bars, the summer had flown by, but surely this next plan would be easier. They still had to refine her idea, but she was certain that between the four of them they would find a way.
Cheryl sat quietly on the drive home. She had tried to concentrate when Val spoke of her plan for the dealer, but, though trying to hide it, she was still swamped with guilt for setting up Ian Parker. His frightened face in the identity parade still haunted her, and though he deserved to go to prison for raping Paula, Cheryl felt sick to her stomach that on this occasion she’d sent an innocent man to prison.
Paula was obviously dwelling on it too as she said, ‘Five years. I still can’t get over it.’
‘I know, dear,’ Val said, ‘but to be honest, we were all so relieved. None of us has been in court before, and were all worried about being called to the witness box.’
‘Oh shit, I’m sorry. I sound ungrateful, but I ain’t. It’s just that, as I said before, in a few years, with good behaviour, he’ll be back on the streets.’
Paula’s right, Cheryl thought, and it was beginning to feel like setting him up had been a waste of time. She hoped his term in prison would serve as a warning–that he would never strike again: at least that would ease her conscience.
Cheryl was so deep in thought that before she knew it they were pulling up outside the house where Paula had a bedsit.
‘Thanks, Val. Bye, Cheryl, and I’ll see you both on Saturday.’
They said goodbye, and then watched as Paula unlocked the front door. Cheryl had thought her nursing quarters small, but it was luxury compared to the tiny, cramped room that Paula had to live in. Maybe she should count her blessings, forget about trying to get her money back from the dealer. She had a career and was still thinking about taking up midwifery. The pay would be better, her life a little more comfortable–and, after all, money wasn’t everything.
‘You’re quiet, Cheryl. Are you all right?’ Val asked as they continued their journey.
‘I’m fine, but I must admit I’m wondering if it’s worth going after the dealer.’
‘We agreed that once we started, none of us would pull out. If we can get your money back you’ll be able to buy a place of your own, and surely you’d prefer that to nurses’ quarters?’
‘After seeing Paula’s tiny bedsit, my accommodation suddenly feels luxurious.’
‘Yes, her room is awful and I feel so sorry for her. She’s a nice girl, but so far hasn’t had much of a life. If I had more room I’d be tempted to have her living with me.’
Val’s words set off a train of thoughts that Cheryl found more and more compelling. If she got her money back from the dealer, Val was right: she
could
buy a flat, one big enough to offer Paula a decent place to live. She might have to take out a small mortgage, but rent from Paula would go towards the payments. It would be a real home, one they could share; and in another area, where she and Paula would be out of Ian Parker’s way when he came out of prison.
Betty was tidying up on Saturday morning when there was a knock on her door. It wasn’t yet ten o’clock and she was surprised to see her daughter on the doorstep. ‘Well, hello stranger. I know we’ve spoken on the phone, but I haven’t seen you for ages.’
‘Now then, Mum, there’s no need for sarcasm. I’m here now and as it’s your birthday on Monday, I thought you might like to go shopping for a present.’
Betty was dumbstruck. This was the first time since moving into this flat that Anne had offered to take her out. She was supposed to meet up with Val and the others at eleven, but felt she couldn’t say no to her daughter. ‘Yes, I’d like that.’
‘Come on then, get your glad rags on.’
Betty was smiling with pleasure as she went into her bedroom and, taking out the skirt from the second–hand shop, along with the blue blouse and beads, she hastily put them on. The warmth of the summer had passed, so she would need a jacket, but thankfully a pale blue and cream checked one that she’d had for years toned well with the colours. She would have to warn Val that she was going to be late, but could do that on the way out. ‘Right, I’m ready.’
Anne’s eyes widened. ‘You look different, Mum. Have you lost weight?’
‘John said the same, and yes, I’ve lost a few pounds.’
‘It must be those clothes too. They make you look slimmer, younger.’
‘Well, thank you. Now I just need to grab my handbag and…’ Betty paused when there was another knock on her door. ‘I wonder who that is. Oh, perhaps it’s John.’
It wasn’t her son, it was Paula, and Betty floundered. ‘I…I’m sorry, love, I was just about to go out. Would you mind telling Val that I’ll join you all later?’
‘Yeah, all right. I’m a bit early and that’s why I popped up here.’
‘Who is it, Mum?’ Anne called.
‘It…it’s a friend of mine.’
When Anne joined her at the door, Betty said, ‘Anne, this is Paula.’
Paula grinned. ‘Watcha, love.’
‘Good morning,’ Anne said brusquely. ‘As my mother said, we’re just going out.’
Betty cringed at her daughter’s abrupt and rude tone. ‘Sorry, but I’ll see you at Val’s later.’
‘Yeah, bye for now,’ Paula called as she ran lightly downstairs.
Anne spoke before Betty had barely closed the door. ‘That girl hardly seems the type to be your friend.’
‘Why not?’
‘To start with she’s a bit young–and she sounds common.’
Betty bristled. ‘Anne, you sound like a snob and I don’t like it.’
‘All right, I’m sorry, but I still think it’s an odd friendship.’
‘There’s nothing odd about it. Paula is a lovely girl and I’ve grown fond of her.’ She picked up her handbag. ‘Right, let’s go.’
As Anne followed her downstairs, she asked, ‘And who is this Val that Paula mentioned?’
‘She’s a very nice lady who lives on the ground floor. I met her in the park and she too has become a friend.’
Anne said no more and soon they were getting into her car. ‘We’ll go to a department store, maybe Debenhams if that’s all right?’
‘Yes, fine,’ Betty said as she placed her handbag in the small well at her feet. It felt strange to be out with her daughter and that saddened her. It would be lovely to have a closer relationship, but it was even more difficult now they lived so far apart. ‘How’s Anthony?’
‘Why do you always use his full name?’
‘Because it’s a nice name. Too nice to shorten.’
‘He prefers to be called Tony and he’s fine, but a bit fed up with going round to Dad’s every Sunday.’
‘Why go then? I thought you were unhappy with Mel.’
‘Yes, well, I was wrong. Her blood pressure really is high and as she needs to rest, I offered to cook Sunday dinner every week.’
Betty felt annoyed. Anne was always too busy to visit her, yet she could find time to see Mel every Sunday. ‘If you ask me she’s making a fuss about nothing, and is probably just laying it on.’
‘As usual, you haven’t got a good word to say about Mel.’
‘What do you expect–and anyway, what about horse riding? If you’re going to your father’s every Sunday to cook the dinner, it can’t leave you much time.’
‘I must admit it’s one of the reasons why Tony’s fed up, but I’ve told him to stop complaining. We manage to fit the odd ride in, and Dad is chuffed with me for helping Mel out.’
Betty pursed her lips but made no comment. Soon they were in the High Street, where Anne found a parking spot not far from the store. They climbed out of the car, Anne asking, ‘How do you feel about John living with Ulrika?’
‘I’m not happy about it, but it seems she doesn’t want to get married.’
‘Good for her, and before you start nagging me about marriage again, have you got any idea of what you’d like for your birthday?’
They entered the store, Betty’s eyes on the cosmetics and perfume display. ‘I’d love some makeup, perhaps eye–shadow and mascara.’
Anne’s eyes widened. ‘But you’ve never bothered before–well, other than a dash of lipstick.’
‘I know, but I’d like to give it a try.’
They wandered over to a counter where Betty looked with dismay at the selection on offer, but as though aware of her dilemma, a sales assistant came forward. ‘Can I help you, madam?’
‘I’m looking for eye–shadow and mascara, though I’m not sure which colour would suit me.’
‘I think a matt eye–shadow would be best…perhaps this blue,’ she said, picking up a tiny flip–top container. ‘If you’d like I could apply a sample, along with mascara.’
‘Yes, please.’
Betty sat in a chair and with practised ease the make–up was applied. She was then handed a mirror and smiled with pleasure at her reflection. ‘I like it. What do you think, Anne?’
‘It looks all right. Do you want me to buy them for you?’
‘Only if they aren’t too expensive.’
With the purchase made, Anne said, ‘That didn’t take long. Would you like to go up to the cafeteria for coffee and perhaps a slice of cake?’
‘Lovely,’ Betty said, and soon they were on the escalator to the first floor.
When they had made their selection in the cafeteria, Betty got out her purse to pay, but Anne said, ‘No, Mum, this is your birthday treat.’
‘Oh, thank you, darling.’
Anne carried the tray across to a table and, after biting into her slice of fruit cake, Betty said, ‘This is lovely, but have you ever tried tarte tatin?’
‘No, what is it?’
‘It’s a French apple tart I tried when I went to a restaurant with Val.’ Betty chuckled, ‘I’ve since tried Babycham too, and it was lovely.’
Anne cocked her head to one side, her eyes narrowing. ‘Mum, what’s going on? You look different, you never used to drink and…well…you seem sort of happier.’
‘I only tried Babycham once, but yes, I suppose I am happier nowadays.’
‘I’m glad, Mum.’
Betty smiled at her daughter. ‘I’d be even happier if I saw more of you and John.’
Anne shook her head in exasperation. ‘Here we go again, the same old complaint. I told you, I’m at Dad’s every Sunday, leaving only Saturday to do everything else. I just haven’t had time to visit you.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry for nagging,’ Betty said, looking for a way to turn the conversation. ‘It’s only October, but did you see they’re already putting up Christmas decorations?’
‘Yes, I noticed, and talking about Christmas, have you anything planned?’
‘Nothing special. I suppose you’ll be going to your father’s usual bash, assuming he’s still putting it on.’
‘He’s already planning it, but as Mel won’t be up to it this year, he’s getting an outside caterer to provide the food. But no, I won’t be going this time. Tony wants us to go to his parents, and as they live in Cornwall, we’ll have to miss the party on Christmas Eve to drive down there.’
Betty sighed. If Anne was going to Cornwall, it meant she wouldn’t see her over Christmas, but perhaps her son would call in–at least she hoped so. Oh, what was the matter with her? Christmas was well over two months away and she was supposed to be celebrating her birthday. Yet thinking of Richard’s party and the influential people he’d invite, a nugget of an idea began to form, one interrupted when her daughter spoke.
‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I’ll have to take you home. I’ve got a stack of washing to do, plus ironing, and I promised Tony we’d go for a ride too.’
‘All right, darling. It’s been such a pleasure to see you and thanks for my lovely present.’
‘It still seems strange to see you wearing make–up. I’m sorry to dash off, but perhaps John will pop down either today or tomorrow.’
‘I hope so,’ Betty said as she rose to her feet. She wasn’t unhappy that Anne had to rush off. She was meeting the others, mulling over the new plan, and was looking forward to it. She felt part of something now, a valuable part, and still thanked God for the day she had met Val.
Val saw the car when it drew up outside the flats. Betty climbed out, waved as it drove away, and then only a minute or two later she was knocking on the door.
Val let her in, Paula saying when she saw her, ‘Blimey, look at your eyes, Betty. You look great.’
‘Yes, you look really nice,’ Cheryl remarked.
‘That colour suits you,’ Val said, ‘and mascara too!’
‘Yes, and they’re both a present from my daughter.’
‘Oh, is it your birthday?’
‘Not until Monday. I’ll be fifty–two–doesn’t that sound old?’
‘No, and anyway, you don’t look it,’ Val said, though in truth she had judged Betty to be in her middle fifties. ‘I didn’t expect you so soon, but I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been mulling over my plan and I think I’ve found a way to make it work.’
‘I’m glad you’ve come up with something. To be honest, I’ve been stumped.’
‘Oh, sorry, Betty, I haven’t offered you a drink. Can I get you anything?’
‘No, I’m fine, thanks.’
When they sat down, Val said, ‘When we talked yesterday, the stumbling block was that none of you thought a copy would fool the dealer.’
‘Yes, and I still feel the same,’ Cheryl said.
‘I think it can work if we appeal to his greed.’
‘How are we supposed to do that?’
‘We’ve got to pitch it just right. It would be silly to buy a painting that, if genuine, would fetch a small fortune. Instead we should go for one that would sell for maybe six to eight thousand pounds. If we then offer it to him for two, he’ll think he’s getting a bargain.’
‘Yeah, but he’ll still want to give it the once over,’ Paula said, ‘and if he’s any good, he’ll spot it’s a copy.’
Val then outlined a trap for the dealer that would make him anxious to buy the painting. They mulled it over, but when none of them made any comment, she said impatiently, ‘It’s the best I could come up with, and I think it’s worth a try.’
‘If he doesn’t suspect anything, it might work,’ Betty mused, ‘but a lot would depend on how we set the scene. I wouldn’t mind playing the part of the hard–up widow.’
‘Yeah, let’s give it a go,’ Paula agreed, ‘and anyway, if it doesn’t work it ain’t the end of the world and we can think of something else.’
‘You’re forgetting the cost of buying the copy,’ Cheryl pointed out. ‘How much would it be, Val?’
‘Around fifty pounds.’
‘Oh dear, I didn’t realise it would be that much. If we don’t pull it off I’ll be considerably out of pocket.’
‘I wouldn’t want that,’ Val said, ‘and as the idea is mine again, I’d like to pay for the copy. I have a ring that belonged to my mother and I’m sure it would fetch enough.’
‘No, Val, that wouldn’t be fair,’ Cheryl protested. ‘I have a little in savings and would rather use that.’
‘Does this mean you’d like us to give it a try?’
Cheryl’s eyes swept over them, and then sighing she said, ‘Yes, all right.’
‘I’m not an expert,’ Val said, ‘but I love art and when I had any spare time I used to visit galleries. I’ve also read lots of books on the subject so, if you like, I could choose the painting.’
‘That’s fine with me.’
Paula chuckled. ‘Rather you than me, Val. I ain’t got a clue about art.’
‘I’m just as bad,’ said Cheryl. ‘I had no idea that my grandmother’s painting had value.’
‘I should think there are many people who are prey to unscrupulous dealers,’ Val said. ‘Mind you, I’m sure there are lots of honest ones and you were just unlucky, Cheryl.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right,’ Cheryl said bitterly.
‘I can’t do anything about buying a painting until next Saturday. Until then, all we have to think about is setting the scene. Are you sure you don’t mind playing the role, Betty?’
‘I’d be happy to,’ but then with a small cry Betty jumped to her feet. ‘Oh, goodness, I’ve just seen my son passing the window. I’ll have to go.’
Betty almost ran out and, waiting until the door had closed behind her, Val said, ‘As it’s her birthday on Monday, I must get her a little something. The shops will be closed tomorrow so it’ll have to be today. Do you two fancy a little trip to the shops?’
‘Yes, why not?’ Cheryl said.
‘I’ll come too,’ Paula agreed.
Treacle wasn’t happy to be left but, as though he could understand every word, Val said, ‘We won’t be long, darling, and then I’ll take you for a nice long walk.’
With that they all trooped out. Piling into Val’s car they drove to Clapham Junction, where Val found a lovely scarf, Cheryl some gloves, whilst Paula picked up some beads, turning to Val to ask, ‘Do you think Betty would like these?’
‘Yes, I’m sure she would,’ Val said, but then, seeing the price tag, she cautioned, ‘They’re a bit expensive.’
‘I know, but Betty’s worth it and I can just about afford them.’
When cards had been purchased, Paula said, ‘I’ll give my present to Betty on Monday evening.’
Val smiled with delight. Paula was going to visit them in the evening, which meant the girl was no longer a virtual recluse. It made everything they had done worthwhile. It had been right to seek revenge–right to make Ian Parker pay for what he’d done, and next it would be the turn of the antique dealer who had as good as robbed Cheryl.
While the others were out shopping, Betty was back in her flat and smiling at the very pretty girl with her son. Her hair was long, blonde, and her eyes were blue. She smiled back at her as John made the introductions.
