Desperate Measures (12 page)
‘Mum, this is Ulrika.’
‘Hello, and I’m pleased to meet you at last,’ Betty said as she impulsively gave the girl a hug.
‘Good morning, Mrs Grayson,’ Ulrika said as she drew away. ‘I am pleased to meet you too.’
The girl had a thick accent, yet her words were so correct. Betty held up her hands. ‘Oh, please, not Mrs Grayson. Call me Betty.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Please, sit down,’ she urged.
Ulrika chose the sofa, her eyes sweeping the room, but before John joined her, he held out a small package and a card. ‘Happy Birthday for Monday.’
Betty opened the present, her eyes lighting up with pleasure when she saw an exquisite brooch. It was gold and shaped like a bouquet of flowers with tiny seed pearls along the stems.
‘Oh, John, it’s beautiful!’
‘Ulrika chose it.’
‘Thank you, my dear. I usually get a bunch of flowers from John–not that I’m complaining, but this is lovely.’
‘I am glad that you like it,’ she said, once again enunciating each word.
‘I’ll just open my card and then I’ll make you both a drink,’ Betty said. She read the message of love, her eyes moist with pleasure as she placed it on her sideboard before going to the kitchenette.
‘Your mother’s home is very different from your father’s.’
‘Shush,’ John hissed.
Betty couldn’t believe her ears and her mood changed instantly. She slammed down the kettle to march back into the living room. ‘I’m not deaf. You’ve obviously taken Ulrika to meet your father. When was this?’
‘Last week.’
‘Oh, John, how could you?’
‘Mum, please, sit down and I’ll explain.’
Betty felt her eyes filling with tears. She’d waited ages to meet Ulrika, but now it seemed that Richard had had the privilege first. She couldn’t believe it–couldn’t believe that John had reconciled with his father.
‘Ulrika made me look at things differently. She’s away from her own family, living in a strange country, and she misses them. She wanted to meet both my parents, and how could I refuse? I know Dad treated you badly, but it was a long time ago, and Mum, no matter what, he’s still my father. You told me when I last came to see you that you’re happier now, so surely it’s time to move on?’
‘Does Ulrika know what he did to me?’ Betty cried.
‘Some of it. I know you came out of the divorce badly but, as Ulrika said, Dad couldn’t help falling in love with someone else.’
‘That didn’t give him the right to force me from my home.’
‘I know, Mum, it was wrong, but it’s time to put it behind us.’
‘Huh, just like that. Well, you might be able to forgive him, but I can’t.’
‘I hated him for ages for what he did to you, but as I said, he wasn’t a bad father.’
‘Now you sound like Anne, taking
his
side against me.’
‘No, I’m not, but as Ulrika said, I shouldn’t take anyone’s side.’
‘So, Ulrika said that, but I heard her comment about my home being different from your father’s. A home that was once mine! But look at me now, living in a dump while your father and Mel live in luxury. How can you go there? How can you sit in his house, knowing it should have been mine?’
‘John, this is my fault,’ Ulrika wailed, her eyes too filling with tears. ‘I didn’t realise that your mother would overhear what I said.’
John threw his arm around her. ‘It’s all right, darling. It would’ve come out eventually. At least it’s in the open now.’
‘But I have upset your mother.’
‘Mum, I think we’d better go.’
Betty just nodded, too upset to speak, and just watched as John drew Ulrika to her feet. The girl was pale, her voice cracking as she spoke. ‘I am so sorry, Mrs Grayson…Betty.’
Once again Betty was only able to nod.
‘Bye,’ John said shortly, and whilst Betty stood rooted to the spot, he led Ulrika out, closing the door behind him.
With a sob, she flopped onto a chair. Tears came in earnest–tears she was unable to stop. Richard had it all now, his new wife, a new baby, and both his son and daughter. He was probably crowing with happiness, over the moon to have his son back in his life, whilst she…she had nothing!
Val had tried to see Betty again on Saturday evening, and on Sunday, but both times she’d been turned away. Betty looked low, said she had a chill, and obviously wanting to be left alone, Val had reluctantly left her to it.
It was now Monday evening, and as Val opened her door she said, ‘Betty, I was just about to come up to see you. Are you feeling better?’
‘To be honest, I didn’t have a chill, but I was upset by my son’s visit and wasn’t in the mood to talk,’ she said, going on to tell Val what had happened.
‘I know it’s dreadful, Betty, but if you don’t somehow accept that John has reconciled with his father, you’ll drive him away.’
‘Yes, yes, I know you’re right, but it’s so hard, Val.’
‘Never mind, you’ll get a chance to get your own back on Richard. In the meantime, why don’t you ring John? Tell him that you don’t mind, that you’re happy for him, even if the words feel like they’re sticking in your throat.’
Betty nodded, looking a little happier as she said, ‘You’re right, and yes, I’ll ring him this evening.’
‘Good,’ and turning to pick up a package, Val said, ‘Here, I’ve got you something for your birthday.’
‘Val, you shouldn’t have.’
‘Paula’s coming round and should be here soon. I think it’s wonderful that she’s found the courage to make her way here in the evening, and it’s thanks to your birthday.’
‘Oh, bless her, but now Ian Parker’s in prison she hasn’t got anything to worry about.’
‘I know, but after living in fear for so long, I think it’s amazing that she’s already found the nerve to make her way here alone at night. Oh, there she is now,’ Val said as she went to open her door.
‘Watcha, and Happy Birthday,’ Paula said to Betty as she walked inside. ‘This is from me, and that one’s from Cheryl.’
Betty hugged Paula and then unwrapped her gifts. ‘Thank you, thank you so much,’ she enthused. ‘I’ll give Cheryl a ring tomorrow to thank her too.’
‘You’d better wait until afternoon. After working all night she won’t be up till then,’ Paula warned.
‘I don’t know how she does it,’ Val said. ‘Now then, let’s have a glass of sherry, to celebrate your birthday. I’ve still got some left.’
They toasted Betty’s birthday, and then talked a little about the plan, but they couldn’t move forward until Val had purchased the painting. Val was pleased to see that Betty was looking happier now, the three of them chatting until at nine–thirty Paula rose to her feet.
‘Sorry, but I think it’s time I was off. I know it’s daft, but I still don’t like to be out late.’
‘He can’t hurt you now, love,’ Betty said.
‘Don’t worry, Paula, stay for another half–hour and then I’ll give you a lift home.’
‘Thanks, Val,’ she said, sitting down again.
Inevitably the conversation turned again to Val’s plan, but then Paula said, ‘I feel a bit useless. It’s all down to you and Betty with nothing for me to do.’
‘I’m a bit nervous about having to face the antiques dealer on my own. I’d feel better if you were there when he turns up. What do you think, Val?’
‘It’s a splendid idea. You could introduce Paula as your daughter.’
Paula looked delighted. ‘Yeah I’d like that.’
Betty then said, ‘I hope I can pull off my role, Val. What if I can’t fool the dealer?’
‘You’ll be fine. You were marvellous last time, and as I said, you should have been an actress.’
‘Maybe it would help if we did a sort of rehearsal.’
‘All right, and I’ll play the part of the dealer,’ Val said.
There were a few giggles, but the role–playing helped and Betty’s confidence grew until, at ten o’clock, Val said it was time to drive Paula home.
Once again Val watched as Betty hugged Paula, the two of them obviously growing closer and closer. Paula had been her first recruit and Val was so fond of the girl that she was unable to help feeling a surge of jealousy. Yet Betty had the motherly touch, something Val knew she lacked, so with Treacle trying to get between them she hid her feelings as she bent to scoop him up. ‘Come on, you rascal. You can come with us for a ride.’
When they walked to the car, Val put Treacle on the back seat, warning him to stay there whilst Paula climbed in the front. It was a waste of time as the dog clambered over to sit on Paula’s lap. ‘You’re a holy terror,’ Val told him.
Paula held him, and as they drove away she said, ‘I’m glad that Betty liked the necklace. She was dead chuffed with your scarf too. When’s your birthday, Val?’
‘Mine’s been and gone, so it won’t be until next June.’
‘June! But you never said. That means I’ve missed it.’
‘I didn’t like to. Anyway, you haven’t mentioned your birthday.’
‘I know, but since…since the rape, I’ve never felt like celebrating it.’
‘There’s nothing to stop you now, so come on, when is it?’
‘Not until Christmas Day.’
‘Really–how lovely. A Christmas baby.’
‘You must be kidding. My mum never stopped moaning about how going into labour ruined her Christmas booze–up, and I used to hate it that my present was always a joint one, if I got one at all.’
‘Well yes, I can understand that.’
‘When are you going to Richmond to see the dealer?’
‘With any luck, after I’ve been to find a painting on Saturday.’
‘Gawd, it’ll be awful if it doesn’t work and Cheryl loses her money.’
‘I know and I must admit it’s a bit worrying,’ Val said as she drove into Paula’s street.
‘Then we’ll just have to make sure it works.’
Val forced a smile as Paula climbed out of the car. They said goodbye, but as she drove away the thought of using Cheryl’s money was heavy on her mind. Once again the plan had been her idea–and it would be her fault if they couldn’t pull it off.
Val saw Betty a few times during the week, but now the weekend had come round again and on Saturday morning Val took a last look in the mirror before going out. She straightened her shoulders and turned this way and that, satisfied that she looked the part.
It was going to be a long day and she was grateful that Betty had offered to look after Treacle. ‘Come on, boy,’ Val now urged, the two of them going upstairs to Betty’s flat.
‘My goodness, you look the bee’s knees,’ Betty said when she opened her door. ‘That suit looks a million dollars.’
‘It’s a Norman Hartnell, the man who designs for the Queen, and it would have cost the earth when it was new. It had just come in when I went to the second–hand shop so I was lucky to get it.’
‘You look like an aristocrat.’
‘Good, and as it’s a bit out of fashion now, it’s just the look I want to achieve.’
Treacle was jumping up at Betty’s legs. ‘Come on, you rascal, let’s get you sorted out.’
‘He’s had his morning walk and been fed. I hope to be back by early afternoon.’
‘He’ll be fine.’
‘Right, I’ll see you later. Wish me luck.’
‘Yes, good luck,’ Betty said as she bent down to scoop Treacle into her arms.
It wasn’t a long drive over the river to Chelsea. After parking close to the studio, Val took a deep breath and raised her chin as she went inside.
‘Hello again,’ the man said, his greeting warm.
‘I know I looked at your work before,’ Val said to him, ‘but do you only have copies of works by master artists?’
‘Yes. Is that a problem?’
‘I’m looking for something by a minor artist, one who would sell for around six to eight thousand pounds.’
The man pursed his lips. ‘I have one that might be suitable, but I hope you aren’t going to try to resell it as genuine.’
‘Oh no, of course not,’ Val lied, thankful that her cover story was in place. As before, she had dressed to look and sound as if she were old money, now impoverished. ‘It’s for my fiancé, a birthday present. I’d love to buy him a genuine painting, but I’m afraid times aren’t what they used to be and…’ Val’s voice trailed off for a moment. ‘Oh, dear, I don’t want to sound snobbish, but he’s new money and hardly a connoisseur of art.’
‘Ah, so you’re hoping he’ll think it’s genuine.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid I am, but he wouldn’t be fooled if I presented him with something like a Rembrandt.’
‘I’ll show you the painting I have in mind. It’s a good copy of a Dolchini, but I must insist that you sign a receipt acknowledging that it isn’t genuine.’
‘Of course,’ Val said. When he found the painting, she studied it carefully but found it disappointing. ‘Oh dear, it looks too new. Would it be possible to age it further and perhaps almost conceal the signature?’
‘Yes, I can do that.’
‘Wonderful,’ Val enthused, ‘and how much will it cost?’
‘With the extra work, sixty–five pounds.’
‘Goodness, that much?’
‘It’s a good copy and, with the added ageing, I doubt your fiancé will spot that it isn’t genuine.’
‘Very well, I’ll buy it,’ Val said impulsively, and after giving the man a deposit she left with her fingers crossed that Cheryl had enough saved to pay the rest. She should have waited until she’d spoken to Cheryl, but as the idea had been hers, if the worst came to the worst, she was prepared to pawn her mother’s ring to top up any shortfall.
Val climbed into her car again. It was quite a drive to Richmond, but she felt it a necessary part of the plan. With this added element, the dealer’s greed should be assured. When she arrived, Val looked at the area with appreciation. She had only been here on a few occasions, but had always liked it, especially the royal park with its herds of deer.
With Cheryl’s directions, the antique shop wasn’t too hard to find, and after parking, Val took in the quaintness of the building. She was surprised at how up–market it appeared and was relieved that once again she looked the part as she walked inside.
‘Good morning, madam. Can I help you?’
Val looked at the man who had virtually robbed Cheryl. Instead of the ogre she was expecting, she was confronted by an amiable face and portly figure. She held her head up, chin tilted, her manner that of a woman who was used to service. With a slight sniff she moved around the shop, her eyes scanning the walls, and then said in an imperious deep tone, ‘I was told you have a Dolchini.’
‘Oh no, madam, I’m sorry, but maybe I can find you something else?’
‘No, no,’ she said impatiently, ‘it has to be a Dolchini. My husband likes his work and wants to add to his collection.’
‘Have you tried any other antique dealers or galleries?’
With an exasperated sigh, Val said, ‘Of course I have. This is impossible. It’s our anniversary in November and I’m running out of time.’
‘Would you like me to make enquiries on your behalf?’
‘Oh, very well,’ and unclasping her leather hand bag, Val took out an address book. ‘I’ll be away for the next few weeks, but if you find anything you can reach me through my London solicitor. Take this number, and tell him you’ve found a painting for Lady Margaret Parker Smythe. He’ll know what to do.’
The man wrote down the number, and as she left he gave a small bow, which almost had Val bursting into laughter. The dealer had no idea. The card just gave the telephone number of her office, and when he rang, she’d be there to take the call. It was a shame the copy wasn’t ready, but it was a chance in a million that he’d find a genuine Dolchini before then–and it was a chance they would just have to take.
Val strode back to her car, satisfied that she had done all she could to set things up, her hands relaxed on the steering wheel as she drove home.
Val wasn’t surprised to find Paula in Betty’s flat, and after flopping onto a chair she said, ‘I’ve done it. I found a painting, but unfortunately it needs a bit of work. It won’t be ready for about four weeks.’
‘Did you go to see the dealer?’ Betty asked.
‘Yes, and I don’t think he suspected a thing. Fingers crossed that he doesn’t put too much effort into finding a painting before ours is ready. He’d only get a finder’s fee if he sourced one from someone else, so I doubt he’ll try too hard.’
‘Yes, fingers crossed,’ Betty agreed and then chuckled. ‘I’d have loved to have seen you playing the part of Lady Smythe.’
‘He was so obsequious that I had a job not to laugh.’
‘Blimey, Val, I’ve never heard of that word, “obse”–something. What does it mean?’ Paula asked.
‘It just means that he was servile, impressed by my title and eager to oblige.’
‘But doesn’t that mean he’ll try really hard to find a painting?’
‘Perhaps, but we’ll just have to hope he isn’t successful. I would hate to lose Cheryl’s money. Talking of Cheryl, do you mind if I use your phone to ring her, Betty? I think I should tell her how much the copy is going to cost.’
‘Go ahead.’
Val dialled Cheryl’s number, and had a chat with her, bringing her up to date, then added, ‘I’m afraid the painting will cost sixty–five pounds, but if you haven’t got that much, I don’t mind chipping in the extra.’
‘I’ve just about got enough; but Val, I still think it’s a bit risky.’
‘I’m afraid I’ve already ordered the painting and left a deposit, but if you’re really worried, I suppose we could call it off.’
There was a pause, but then Cheryl said, ‘No, it’s all right. We’ve come this far so we might as well go ahead.’
‘I know you’ve got to work tonight, but is it your last night shift?’
‘Yes, thank goodness.’
‘After you’ve had a sleep tomorrow morning, why don’t you pop round?’
‘Yes, I’ll do that. Will the others be there?’
‘Hold on, I’ll find out,’ Val said, getting an affirmative that she passed on to Cheryl. ‘Shall we say two o’clock?’
Cheryl agreed and, after saying goodbye, Val replaced the receiver. She wouldn’t admit it to the others, but she was still worried sick about losing Cheryl’s savings. Stop it, she berated herself. The plan
would
work, it
had
to. However, she’d identified a snag in the plan on her way home and now discussed it with the others, hoping that they could come up with a solution to overcome it. ‘Betty, you’ve offered to play the part of the widow wanting to sell the painting, but why would you invite a dealer from Richmond to look at it? Surely you’d use a local dealer? It’s something he might find a bit odd.’
‘Gawd, yeah, she’s right,’ said Paula. ‘Here, why not just take it to his shop?’
‘Yes, that could work, but it might give him too long to inspect it.’
‘It’ll be the same if he comes here,’ Betty said. ‘Unlike Cheryl, I won’t be inviting him to buy everything in my flat, just one painting for two thousand pounds. I can’t see him paying that without a proper inspection.’
‘Don’t forget, he’ll be looking out for a Dolchini. With an assured buyer he’ll know he can get at least three times that amount. All we need is a reason for inviting him here from Richmond. If we can sort that out, I still think his greed will make him buy it.’
They were all quiet then, all trying to come up with a plan. Betty suddenly sat up in her chair, speaking animatedly and, hearing her suggestion, Val grinned. ‘Yes, Betty, that should work–well done. Thanks to you, all we have to do now is wait for the painting to be completed and then we can go ahead.’
Betty smiled at the praise, her face pink with pleasure. ‘Until now, I didn’t know I had such a devious mind.’
The onus for the rest of the plan now fell on Betty, but she didn’t seem to mind. In fact Val could see a distinct change in her personality. Betty was more assured, no longer the shrinking violet she’d first encountered in the park. Val had started the group as a means to an end, but now wondered what would happen when all the plans had been carried out. Would that be the last they all saw of each other? Val blinked as she realised again just how much Betty, Paula and Cheryl had come to mean to her. She couldn’t imagine her life without them now. Would they remain friends? God, she hoped so.
