Desperate Measures (14 page)
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I am. It’d be nice to have a pet.’
‘His name is Charlie too. Now don’t laugh,’ he added as Paula began to chuckle. ‘It was my wife who named him after me.’
‘Yeah, sorry…but don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.’
‘You’re a nice girl and I can’t tell you how much your offer means to me. I know you ain’t popular but, as I’ve said before, I think you’ve been on a rough road. Am I right?’
Paula nodded and, seeing the kindness in the old man’s eyes, she glanced around to make sure they couldn’t be overheard before spilling it all out. Charlie didn’t interrupt until she finished. ‘So you see, it’s made me all sort of bitter and twisted.’
‘That ain’t surprising, but don’t judge all men by what that bastard did to you. Take Keith for instance. He’s a bit of a cheeky bugger, but he’s a good bloke.’
‘I wasn’t very nice to him, but I’ve apologised now.’
‘That’s a start. I can see that he likes you and you could do worse.’
‘No, no, I don’t want to go out with him.’
‘Fair enough, but as I said, don’t tar all men with the same brush.’
‘I…I’ll try not to, but it may take a bit of time.’
‘Don’t let it ruin the rest of your life. Now, to change the subject, I don’t suppose you need any furniture, do you? My stuff is a bit old–fashioned, but it would do you a turn.’
‘I only live in a bedsit and there isn’t room to swing a cat.’
‘Oh well, perhaps I can find someone else to pass it on to.’
‘It would’ve been nice to have some stuff of my own, so thanks for the offer. When do you think you’ll be off to New Zealand?’
‘I retire in a month, and as my son is making all arrangements, I doubt it’ll be long after that.’
‘That soon? Blimey, I had no idea.’
Soon after they finished their sandwiches, and saying that she wanted another cigarette before going back to work, Paula left Charlie to make her way outside. Though it was cold she breathed in the fresh air as her thoughts turned. Charlie was right; she couldn’t judge all men the same. Even so, she tensed when she saw three men walking through the factory gates. Swiftly she stubbed out her cigarette before bolting back inside.
‘Hey, gorgeous, what’s the matter?’ a voice called.
Paula spun around and, seeing Keith, she heaved a sigh of relief. The men with him worked in the factory too, but blinded by panic she hadn’t recognised any of them. ‘Nothing’s the matter,’ she managed to reply. ‘I was just on my way back to the machine room.’
‘I know I’m irresistible and no doubt you’re rushing back to see me, but I ain’t there, love. I’m here, right behind you, if you fancy a cuddle,’ Keith quipped.
‘Dream on,’ she called, but with a smile on her face as she went back to work.
Trevor Riverton locked the door of his antiques shop. It was a Monday evening, the third of November. He made his way to his car, hoping he wasn’t wasting his time. After making a few unsuccessful calls to source a Dolchini for Lady Smythe, he’d all but put the task out of his mind. In fact, as he would only receive a finder’s fee, he hadn’t made much of an effort. Now, though, he was on his way to Battersea and once again hoped it wasn’t going to be a wasted journey. His wife had arranged a dinner party to celebrate their anniversary that evening, and if he was late she would make him suffer, but the telephone call he’d received on Saturday had piqued his interest. The woman said she had a painting by Drewer for sale, but her description of the work didn’t tally with what he knew of the artist. In fact it sounded more like one he’d once seen catalogued as a Dolchini, but surely it was too good to be true? Despite his doubts, Trevor felt he should at least go to see it, but the woman had insisted on an evening appointment. This was his first free one, but he’d have to get a move on to be back in Richmond by eight.
Trevor puffed with annoyance. The timing was doubly a nuisance. Usually when he went to view a painting, or to a house clearance, he would take Marcus with him, who was an expert at spotting genuine art. If they managed to find a bargain they would split the profits, but Marcus was away until Friday night. Though Trevor had some knowledge, he didn’t have Marcus’s eye, but surely he knew enough to spot a genuine Dolchini. It was unlikely to be one of his works, but if it was, this could be a chance in a million and one he didn’t want to miss.
When Trevor reached the address in Battersea and saw a small block of flats, he looked at the façade with disappointment. He’d expected a fine house: these dingy flats seemed unlikely to house a Dolchini. Still, he was here now, so he might as well take a look at the painting.
‘Good evening, Mrs Grayson,’ he said when a woman opened the door. ‘My name is Trevor Riverton. You rang me on Saturday about a painting.’
‘Yes, that’s right. Please come in,’ she said, then indicated a young blonde woman sitting on a sofa. ‘This is my daughter.’
‘Hello,’ he said shortly before turning his attention back to the woman. ‘You said you have a painting for sale.’
‘Yes, that’s right. It’s over there,’ she said, pointing to an alcove.
Trevor went to look at the painting; even though it was filthy, his heart leapt. He kept his expression composed, however, asking, ‘What makes you think it’s by Drewer?’
‘I know it’s dirty, but you can still see the D of his monogram.’
Trevor couldn’t believe his luck. Yes, the artist used initials, but this wasn’t one of his. He played along. ‘I think you’re right.’
‘See, I told you,’ the woman said as she turned to talk to her daughter, ‘I told you Mr Riverton wouldn’t be like that local dealer.’
‘Local dealer?’ Trevor queried.
‘Yes, he said it wasn’t a Drewer and offered me a pittance, so I doubt he was a specialist. I have a friend in Richmond and invited you to look at it on her recommendation.’
‘May I lift it from the wall?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Trevor took the painting down to look at it more closely, then turned it over to study the back. It looked genuine, but as the other dealer, specialist or not, hadn’t spotted the woman’s mistake, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Surely it was too good to be true, and how had a Dolchini ended up here? He took in the woman’s room, the shabby furniture, and asked, ‘Did the other dealer ask how you came by this painting?’
‘No, but if he had I’d have told him that my great aunt died recently and it was left to me in her will. She collected art and had more valuable pieces, but those, along with the house, went to my brother. Like me, he has little knowledge of art, and when probate was granted he said he’d bring in an expert to value the paintings for insurance. In the meantime he was happy for me to take the Drewer, and though I’d love to keep the painting, I…I’m afraid I need the money.’
Trevor studied the painting again. Was it possible? Had the silly woman taken the wrong painting and, if so, how long would it be before her mistake was discovered? He was still unsure, so said, ‘I might be interested in buying it, but I’d like a friend of mine to look at it first. Could I make an appointment to come back with him next week?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose so, but I should warn you that someone else is coming to see it tomorrow. If he offers me a fair price, I’ll sell it.’
Damn, Trevor thought. If the man saw and heard the same things he did, he’d snap up the painting. It was a risk, but one that could net him a marvellous profit. Any doubts he had were now dispelled in his eagerness to buy it. ‘How much are you asking for it?’
‘I know its value and I want two thousand five hundred pounds.’
Trevor didn’t want to give the game away by appearing too eager, so once again he studied the painting. He knew that Lady Smythe would pay eight thousand pounds for this silly woman’s mistake. ‘Yes, I can see it’s a Drewer,’ he lied, ‘but in this condition I’m afraid I can only offer two thousand.’
‘Two thousand two fifty,’ she bartered.
‘No, I’m sorry, it needs extensive cleaning, so the most I can offer is two thousand one hundred.’
The woman bit on her lower lip as she considered his offer, but then with a small sigh she said, ‘All right, you
were
recommended, so I’m sure it’s a fair price. I’ll take it.’
Trevor put the painting down to pull out his chequebook, thinking nothing of it when she asked for it to be made out to cash. He wrote it out with a flourish and then prepared a receipt. When the silly woman’s mistake was discovered, he didn’t want his purchase challenged, so as always he wrote
sold as seen
along the bottom. ‘Would you sign this please, Mrs Grayson?’
‘Yes, of course.’
Trevor smiled as she put her signature on the receipt, but hid the fact that it was one of triumph. This deal would bring him a tidy profit and, if he got a move on, he would just be in time for dinner. ‘Thank you, Mrs Grayson,’ he said, taking the carbon copy to tuck into his pocket. He then handed her the original and the cheque, anxious now to leave as he again picked up the painting.
‘Thank you and goodbye, Mr Riverton,’ the woman said as she walked across the room to open the door.
‘Goodbye,’ he said, nodding briefly to the woman’s daughter as he left, and with the Dolchini clutched to his chest like treasure, he hurried downstairs. He’d ring Lady Smythe’s solicitor first thing in the morning and, with an assured profit of six thousand pounds, he’d break out a bottle of champagne when he arrived home.
Trevor Riverton was unaware of two pairs of eyes watching him from a downstairs window as he drove off. Only minutes later there was a knock on Val’s door. She hadn’t missed the fact that the dealer had carried out the painting and relief almost made her knees give out as she hurried to fling it open.
‘We did it!’ Betty cried, flourishing a cheque.
‘Well done,’ Val enthused.
‘Here, Cheryl,’ Betty said as she walked across the room to hand her the cheque. ‘He fell for it hook, line and sinker.’
‘Oh, God, I don’t know what to say. This is wonderful,’ she said as tears flooded her eyes.
‘We even got an extra one hundred,’ said Betty proudly.
‘Not we, it was you, Betty,’ said Paula. ‘I didn’t do a thing and you were just brill.’
Cheryl dashed her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘With the extra money I think we should do something to celebrate.’
‘What a lovely idea,’ said Val, ‘but I don’t think we should celebrate just yet. The cheque still has to clear.’
‘I’ll pay this in during my lunch break tomorrow, but I’m going to be on tenterhooks until it does,’ Cheryl said.
‘Val, I’m a bit worried,’ Betty said. ‘You briefed me well, and I know I said he fell for it hook, line and sinker, but I don’t think he was fully convinced. He wanted to bring someone else to see it next week.’
‘Did he?’ Val said sharply. ‘Who?’
‘I don’t know, maybe an expert. I managed to ad lib, saying that another dealer was coming to see it tomorrow, and I think that made him more eager to buy it.’
‘Oh dear,’ Cheryl cried. ‘If an expert sees it, we’re sunk.’
Val frowned. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t show it to him before the cheque clears. If he does, he’s bound to put a stop on it.’
‘Yes, but even if we do get the money, he’s bound to come back when he discovers it’s only a copy.’
‘That’s one thing we don’t have to worry about, Betty. He made sure you signed a receipt saying
“sold as seen,”
so for once he’ll be getting a taste of his own medicine. Like Cheryl, he won’t have a leg to stand on.’
‘I still don’t fancy facing him,’ Betty said worriedly.
‘Don’t worry, he’s no fool, and when he finds out his mistake I’m sure he’ll know there’s nothing he can do.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Betty said.
‘Val, he’ll want to tell Lady Smythe’s supposed solicitor that he’s found a Dolchini and will probably ring your office first thing in the morning. I still think there’s a chance that he’ll recognise your voice,’ Cheryl warned.
‘It was a risk I had to take. I could hardly give him a false number or that would have alerted him and he’d almost certainly stop the cheque. This way I can say that Mr Warriner is away until Friday and that will stall him long enough for it to clear. Not only that, I don’t think he’ll recognise my voice. I lowered the pitch, put on airs–my whole manner and diction was that of an upper–class lady.’
‘Blimey, you already sound posh to me,’ Paula said.
Cheryl’s tone was derisive. ‘Huh, anyone would sound posh compared to you.’
Paula looked instantly crushed, her head sinking down to her chest. Annoyed, Val said sharply, ‘There’s no need for that, Cheryl.’
‘Oh God, I’m so sorry, Paula,’ she said, looking ashamed.
Betty looked indignant too, her voice unusually sharp. ‘I should think so too.’
‘It…it’s all right. I know I sound common. Please, don’t fall out over me.’
Cheryl was red–faced. ‘I shouldn’t have said it. I don’t know what came over me.’
Nor do I, Val thought, but thankfully Paula appeared mollified. The atmosphere still felt a little strained, so she said, ‘Let’s have a glass of sherry. I know it’s a bit early to celebrate, but after playing her part so well, I think Betty deserves one.’
Val poured the drinks and then, holding up her glass, she said, ‘Well done, Betty.’
After a sip of sherry, Betty let out a long sigh. ‘At least my stomach has stopped churning. To tell you the truth, I was really nervous when Mr Riverton turned up. It helped having you there, Paula, gave me a bit of Dutch courage. I know you don’t think you did anything, but honestly, love, on my own I’d have lost my nerve.’
Paula’s expression was now one of pleasure. ‘Thanks, but I didn’t even open me mouth, sorry,
my
mouth.’
‘There’s no need to correct yourself,’ Betty protested.
‘No, there isn’t, and once again I’m sorry,’ Cheryl said. She then waved the cheque. ‘I can’t tell you what this money means to me. I’ll be able to buy a flat, a place to call my own. Thank you, thank both of you, and you too, Val, for coming up with the plan.’
‘If you need furniture, I know a bloke who wants to get rid of some. It ain’t modern or anything, but he said it’s in good nick.’
‘Really? Oh, yes please.’
‘Right, when I go to work in the morning, I’ll have a word with Charlie. He’s going to New Zealand to live with his son. I’m having his budgie and can’t wait to take him on. It’ll be lovely to have a pet of my own. I’d like a dog, or even a cat, but a bird is better than nothing and with any luck I’ll get away with having it in me bedsit.’
‘They can be a bit noisy,’ Betty warned.
‘Oh blimey, if he makes a racket someone might complain. What will I do then?’
‘Don’t worry. If you can’t keep him, I’ll take him on.’
‘Thanks, Betty, but I hope it doesn’t come to that.’
Cheryl was looking at the cheque again. ‘I’m so thrilled with this, but until it clears, it somehow seems unreal.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Val said. ‘Everything went better than expected last time, and I’m sure it will this time too.’
