Desperate Measures (26 page)
‘Betty, please, it’s been over a week now. If you don’t go back to work you could lose your job. What will you do for money then?’
When as usual there was no response, Val tried again. ‘At least see a doctor to get a medical certificate and then you’ll get sick pay.’
There was still no answer from Betty and, with a heavy sigh, Val had to give up. It was all right for Cheryl to say that Betty had depression, but how much longer could this go on? It was becoming more and more difficult to get her to open the door; so much so that Val had surreptitiously taken a key. She’d have to leave for work soon, but hated leaving Betty like this. ‘I’ll make you a cup of tea before I go,’ she said, feeling that she was again talking to herself, ‘and how about getting up today? I hate to say this, Betty, but you really do need a wash.’
‘Leave me alone.’
‘Oh, she speaks! Well that’s an improvement.’
Betty closed her eyes, turned on her side, and pulled the blankets up to her chin. With a shake of her head, Val went to Betty’s kitchenette, and after making a cup of tea along with a sandwich, she placed it by the bed. ‘I’ve made you a drink and something to eat. Now don’t let me find it untouched when I come back after work.’
Betty said nothing, not a word; with her worry mounting, Val decided that she’d have to call the doctor. It was as much as she could do to get Betty to take a few spoonfuls of soup and, like yesterday, she would probably come back to find the sandwich uneaten. This couldn’t go on any longer, and hoping that Mr Warriner would understand, she rang him to say that she’d have to take the day off.
‘It’s all right, Val. All my clients know that I’m retiring now, so there’s little for you to do. Take as long as you need.’
Val replaced the receiver, grateful that her employer had been understanding. She hadn’t appreciated her job, but now dreaded Mr Warriner’s retirement. So far she’d done hardly anything about finding another job, but knew it was time to start looking in earnest. For now, though, her main concern was Betty.
Once again guilt swamped Val. She had dragged Betty in, recruited her, and though the first two plans had gone well, the third had been a disaster. Not only had Betty’s children disowned her, but a baby had died, and like Betty, Val held herself accountable. She had wanted revenge on Mike Freeman, and to this end had set about gathering in the others, but now in the face of this tragedy, all angst had left her. Revenge wasn’t sweet. She could see that now. Too late though–too late to save an innocent baby’s life.
‘What’s up, Paula?’ Keith asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said shortly.
‘Did you go out last night to see in the New Year?’
‘No.’
‘You should have come down to my local. We had a right laugh. Mind you, it was rotten getting up for work this morning. I reckon they should make New Year’s Day a bank holiday.’
She just shrugged, but not ready to give up on her yet, Keith said, ‘Come on, I can see you’re upset about something. You’ve been the same since we came back to work on Monday. It ain’t that bleedin’ budgie, is it? Surely you’ve got over that by now.’
‘I told you, I’m fine. I’ve got a bit of a headache, that’s all.’
‘Oh, so you had a few bevvies too?’
‘I had a couple of glasses of sherry, that’s all.’
‘Sherry! Blimey, that sounds a bit posh. Now my old mum likes a port and lemon, so do her mates, but sherry! I can’t see her asking for that in our local.’
Paula’s hands fumbled as she picked up the next sheet of paper, and after just managing to feed it into the machine, she snapped, ‘If you don’t want the roller mucked up, I suggest you bugger off.’
‘All right, there’s no need to bite me head off,’ Keith retorted as he walked off, fed up with her stroppy ways. He’d chat to the second girl working on his machine. When each sheet of paper had been laminated, it passed through the roller, and it was her job to separate each one with a knife. Maureen was new to the job and looked flustered, so smiling kindly he said, ‘Don’t worry, you’re doing all right.’
Though intent on her task, Maureen managed to return his smile. He lifted the pile of newly cut sheets from the trough in front of her, taking them to his table and knocking them into shape. He usually preferred it when there was one girl feeding on the machine, the sheets left uncut and winding into a large roll that was lifted off to be separated later. His job was easier then, but with Paula in one of her moods, at least he had the new girl to chat to.
Maureen wasn’t a patch on Paula in looks, and her figure wasn’t as good but, as he couldn’t make any headway with Paula, maybe it was time to give up. It was a shame, though, because he really did like her, and before the Christmas break he’d thought that maybe, just maybe, he was getting somewhere. Mind you, she’d been terrified when she thought he was going to kiss her, so scared that he’d guessed she’d been hurt in some way, and badly. His anger at the thought had come as a surprise, but Paula was so tiny, so fragile looking, that she aroused his protective instincts.
Keith looked at Paula now and, as though aware of his scrutiny, she met his eyes. He winked, but got a scowl in return. Sod it, he thought as he returned to his work. Maybe he’d been wasting his time, particularly as–let’s face it–he was no oil painting. When Paula
was
ready to dip her toe in the water again, she could do a lot better than him.
When Keith got the chance he spent the rest of the morning chatting to the new girl. Maureen was easy to talk to, not bad looking really, and hearing that she was footloose and fancy free, he decided to take the plunge. ‘Here, Maureen,’ he said after shutting down for the lunch break, ‘do you fancy taking me out tonight?’
She grinned, revealing a row of perfect teeth. ‘
Me
take
you
out! You cheeky sod,’ but then with another grin she said, ‘Yeah, why not?’
Paula heard the exchange and was surprised at the lurch of jealousy she felt. What was wrong with her? What did she care if Keith was taking the new girl out? Yet even as the question crossed her mind, Paula knew the answer. She really liked Keith, more than she’d been prepared to admit, but was still too afraid to date anyone. Ian Parker might be in prison, but he had still won. He would come out of the nick and take up his life again, whereas she would always have to live with what he’d done to her–her sentence for life.
‘Why the long face?’
Paula had avoided the other girls who popped outside for a smoke, hiding herself away around the corner of the building, but Lucy had found her. In other factories she’d worked in, smoking was allowed in the canteen, but with the amount of paper and chemical inflammables in this one, it was banned. ‘There’s nothing wrong. I’m fine.’
‘Then why are you hiding?’
‘I’m not. I just don’t feel like chatting, that’s all.’
Lucy didn’t take the hint. ‘I saw Keith getting cosy with that new girl.’
Paula just shrugged. ‘So what?’
‘Are you jealous? Is that why you’re skulking here?’
‘I couldn’t care less,’ Paula retorted, but then, to her chagrin, tears filled her eyes.
‘Blimey, I didn’t mean to upset you.’
Paula tried to blink the tears away. It wasn’t just Keith, it was Betty’s plan. Cheryl was right, they shouldn’t have done it, and now a baby was dead.
‘I’ve seen the way Keith looks at you. Just give him the wink and he’ll jump at the chance to take you out,’ Lucy urged.
Unable to tell Lucy what was really upsetting her, Paula blurted out, ‘I…I’ve been raped.’
‘What? Are you all right? No of course you’re not,’ Lucy babbled. ‘You should go home. I’ll get the forewoman.’
‘No, no, wait! It…it happened ages ago.’
Lucy paused, her eyes narrowed in thought. ‘Of course, it all makes sense now. I thought you were off men because you’d been dumped, or something like that. But rape. Oh, you poor cow. Mind, if it happened ages ago, you can’t let it ruin the rest of your life. If you do, the bastard who did it has won.’
‘He…he already has.’
‘No, you shouldn’t think like that,’ Lucy insisted.
‘Who’s gonna want me now? I’m not a virgin, and if a bloke finds out, he’ll think I’m a tart. Men don’t marry tarts.’
‘It wasn’t your fault–and anyway, with the way things are going nowadays, I doubt there are many girls who walk down the aisle as virgins.’
‘I wanted to. It was my dream.’
‘Blimey, Paula, if you ask me it was a bit unrealistic. Most men want to get into your knickers well before the wedding. Look, I know I’m not interested in men, but I ain’t a bad judge of character. Keith likes you, and I reckon he’s one of the decent ones, a bloke you’d be safe with.’
‘No, no, I don’t want to go out with him, or anyone.’
‘So you’re going to let the bloke who raped you win?’
Paula took a last drag on her cigarette. Lucy was right: by letting Ian Parker ruin her life she
was
letting him win and the thought sickened her. She felt a surge of anger, and ground her cigarette underfoot, wishing it was his face. ‘No, I’m not going to let him beat me, and thanks, Lucy, thanks for making me see sense. I will try going out on a date again, but not with Keith. He ain’t my type,’ she lied.
‘If you say so. Now I don’t know about you, but I’m off to the canteen. I didn’t have any breakfast and now my stomach feels like my throat has been cut.’
‘I’ll be along in a minute,’ Paula said. Unlike Lucy, she wasn’t hungry. She had spent last evening with Val, both of them trying to snap Betty out of her awful depression. Nothing seemed to work, and when Cheryl had joined them, her attempts had also failed. Cheryl said not to worry, that, given time, Betty was sure to snap out of it. There was another thing too. Once again Cheryl had avoided talking about her attempts to find a house. But why? And what was taking her so long? There was something funny going on–something Paula couldn’t put her finger on. If anything Cheryl seemed secretive. But secretive about what?
Paula didn’t go to the canteen. Instead she stayed outside until the lunch break was over, her thoughts turning to Betty again, wanting to be with her, to somehow comfort her. Yet how? When she returned to her machine, it was to see Keith chatting to Maureen, the two of them intent on each other.
‘Right, we’re off,’ Keith called.
The routine began again, and when Keith saw that everything was up and running without any problems, he went to talk to Maureen again. A few minutes later he moved to Paula’s side.
‘Here, guess what? I’m taking Maureen out tonight.’
‘I’m pleased for you,’ she snapped, ‘and now perhaps you’ll leave me in peace.’
‘Don’t worry, I will,’ he bit off in reply.
She kept her head down, yet aware that Keith was now laughing as he chatted to Maureen again. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, but maybe he was talking about her, telling Maureen what an awkward bitch she was. Keith had been nice, sweet really, but she’d treated him like dirt.
‘Keith,’ she called now.
He came to her side, saying shortly, ‘What?’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be nasty,’ said Paula. ‘I…I’ve got a lot on my mind, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.’
‘Oh, right. Well, thanks for that.’
‘So you like Maureen then?’
‘Yeah, she’s all right and a bit of a laugh.’
Paula swallowed, wanting to tell Keith how she felt, but the words stuck in her throat. She couldn’t do it–couldn’t find the courage, and instead said, ‘Well then, it sounds like you’ll enjoy your date.’
‘Yeah, I will,’ he agreed and, hearing a noise from the roller, he went off to investigate.
When the machine was finally turned off for the day, Paula hurried to the cloakroom. She wondered where Keith would take Maureen, and if he’d want to see her again. Maybe they wouldn’t get on. Stop it, stop it, she told herself. What did it matter anyway? Sod Keith. She’d grab a bag of chips on the way home, have a quick wash and then go to see Betty.
Cheryl was taking a patient’s blood pressure, but her mind was elsewhere. After working all weekend, she had three days off, and with the sale complete, would collect the house keys in the morning. Instead of using Val’s solicitor, she’d chosen a local one so she didn’t have far to go, and she should have been spinning with happiness. Instead Cheryl was worried sick. What she had taken on was such a huge responsibility. To start with there were builders to sort out, the renovations sure to take at least a month, and then she had to face local authority inspections. Her notice was already written and would soon be handed in to Matron, but the risk of what she was going to do now felt enormous.
‘Do you think I might be able to go home tomorrow?’ the patient asked.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t know. The doctor will be able to tell you when he does his rounds in the morning.’
‘Well, I bleedin’ well hope so. My old man’s missing me cooking,’ she joked.
Cheryl wrote the readings on the patient’s chart, and then forced a smile as she moved on to the next bed. This patient wasn’t so chirpy, and for a moment Cheryl felt a pang of compassion. The unhappy woman reminded her of Betty, but it was probably the after–affects of the anaesthesia, unlike Betty’s black depression.
At first Cheryl had felt only anger at what Betty’s plan had caused, but gradually this feeling had left her to be replaced by pity. Betty was a lovely woman and it had been madness to think that she had wanted Mel’s baby to die. Revenge had spurred Betty on, and made her thoughtless of what could be the outcome. So much tragedy, so much pain, and if Val still wanted to exact her revenge on Mike Freeman, Cheryl would have to tell her that she wanted no part of it.
With Betty so close to Paula, and too fragile at the moment, Cheryl hadn’t told them about the house, either; where it was, or what her plans were. Of course there was no guarantee that Paula would want to make such a huge change in her life, but for Cheryl, the thought of starting out without at least one friend to help, was a lonely and frightening one.
In Farnham, after suffering an infection, Mel had been allowed home, but she was still in deep grief. She’d finally accepted that she wasn’t to blame for the baby’s medical condition, but still refused to let Richard tell anyone that anencephaly had been the cause of their son’s death. Richard had no idea why but because it upset her so much when he tried to argue, he went along with her decision.
It was Sunday, and Richard knew that Anne and John would call in, but guilty that Betty was still being blamed for the baby’s loss, Richard wasn’t looking forward to seeing them. ‘Mel,’ he said, ‘I’ve had an idea. How about a holiday, somewhere warm and sunny? It might be just what you need.’
‘I’m not up to it yet.’
‘Of course you are. It doesn’t have to be strenuous, perhaps even a cruise.’
‘I’d get seasick.’
‘Then we’ll fly somewhere.’
‘No, I don’t need a holiday.’
Mel looked tired, too eaten up with grief to muster enthusiasm for anything, but gently cajoling, Richard urged, ‘Darling, it might help.’
‘I’ll never get over losing my baby.’
When the doorbell rang, Richard went to answer it, and as he’d expected it was Anne. ‘Hello, darling, come on in,’ he said.
‘How’s Mel?’
‘She’s still down in the dumps, but it’s early days yet. I suggested a holiday, but she doesn’t want to go.’
‘I’m not surprised. It’s too soon, Dad.’
‘I thought it might help,’ Richard said as Anne followed him through to the living room.
‘Hello, Mel. I hear that dad’s been a bit crass and suggested a holiday.’
‘Yes, he did, and I told him no. Now what can I get you to drink?’
‘Coffee would be nice.’
‘I’ll get it,’ Richard offered.
‘Will you stop treating me like an invalid?’ Mel snapped as she walked out of the room.
Richard smiled ruefully at his daughter. ‘I can’t do anything right.’
‘You need to stop wrapping Mel in cotton wool.’
‘Anne, she’s had surgery followed by an infection, and I think she needs to rest.’
‘Making a coffee won’t hurt. You’re stifling her, Dad. You haven’t gone back to work, and hardly let her out of your sight. I think she needs things to get back to normality. Not only that, she’s probably angry because you haven’t done anything about sorting out the bitch that Mum sent here–or Mum herself, come to that. Have you even asked Mel how she feels about it?’
‘No, I haven’t, but do you seriously think I should try to prosecute your mother? What if she was sent to prison? Surely you don’t want that?’
‘No, no, of course I don’t. It just seems awful that she’s got away with it.’
‘Anne, we need to let this go. Before Mel lost the baby, your mother agreed we should put the past behind us; despite what happened, we need to do just that.’
‘You
might be able to forgive her, but
I
can’t.’
Mel walked in and, holding out a cup of coffee, she gave it to Anne, saying, ‘I’m sorry. I’ve got a dreadful headache and think I need to lie down.’
‘Are you all right, Mel?’ Richard asked worriedly.
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, I said I’ve got a headache, that’s all.’
Mel walked out of the room, glad to get away from Richard, Anne, and talk of his first wife. When she and Richard had fallen in love, she’d argued against moving into this house and had never forgiven herself for letting him persuade her. Yes, they had wanted to be together, but to force Betty out had been wrong. It had lain heavily on her mind, but no more, not now. She would never forget that young woman turning up on Christmas Eve, could remember word for word the accusations made in front of their friends; but worse, she’d believed them. When she fainted, and was then rushed to hospital the following morning, her blood pressure at a dangerous level, it was down to Betty and her hateful scheme. The blood pressure had put the baby in danger, caused a lack of oxygen in her womb, her baby dead before he was born. Yes, he had anencephaly, yet some babies survived.
Mel ground her teeth. Because of Betty, her baby hadn’t been given a chance of survival. She would never forgive her, never, and to that end was determined that Anne and John would never know about the baby’s medical condition. Like her, they blamed their mother, but if they found out about the anencephaly it would put doubt in their minds. Mel didn’t want that. She didn’t want them to ever forgive their mother.
Holding her empty stomach, Mel lay on the bed. Yes, she had lost her baby, but there was a crumb of comfort in knowing that Betty had lost her children too.
Val held out a glass of water. ‘Time to take your pill, Betty.’
Lacklustre, her eyes glazed, Betty did as she was told; but Val hated this–hated how the medication made Betty unfocused and distant. It was what the doctor had prescribed, and at least she was now getting sick pay, but Val still tried to arouse her interest. ‘Paula is sure to be here soon. Cheryl’s busy so she can’t make it, but we might see her this evening. Talking of work, I haven’t had any luck finding another job. I’ve only got until the end of this month, but it isn’t looking good. Still,’ she joked, ‘there’s always the dole.’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ Betty replied, but her voice lacked interest.
‘That must be Paula now,’ Val said, going to let her in.
‘Blimey, it’s freezing out there. Me gas heater’s broken, so my room’s like a fridge.’
‘Have you told the landlord?’
‘Yeah, but he can’t do anything until tomorrow.’
‘Well until then, you can’t stay there without heat. I’m sure Betty won’t mind putting you up, or you can have my sofa if you like.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ Paula said as she held up a brown paper carrier bag. ‘I brought me nightclothes.’
‘What do you think, Betty? Your place or mine?’ Val asked.
‘I don’t mind.’
‘It’s your choice then, Paula.’
‘No offence, Val, but I think I’ll take Betty’s sofa. I just wish Cheryl would settle on a flat or a house, but she seems to be taking forever to find something.’
‘I know, but she’s sensible not to rush.’
‘Yeah, but every time we mention it, she goes all cagey.’
Val had to agree. Cheryl was being evasive, but, like them, she’d been deeply upset about Mel’s baby. Maybe she’d decided to break away from them, to go it alone, and if she did, Val couldn’t blame her. It would be awful for Paula, her chance to live in a decent home gone, and now Val felt the weight of responsibility for another devastating effect caused by her plans.
‘I think Betty’s gone to sleep,’ Paula said.
‘It’s the pills. She’s just taken one and they make her drowsy.’
Paula kept her voice low. ‘Val, do you think we’re safe now?’
She kept her voice equally soft. ‘If you’re talking about the police, then yes. If Betty’s husband was going to lodge a complaint, I feel sure he’d have done it by now.’
‘I hope you’re right, but I’ve hardly slept since it happened. I still feel so guilty.’
‘We all do, and if I could turn the clock back, I would.’
‘Me too.’
Val couldn’t bear talking about it any more. It had happened, a baby had died, and there was nothing they could do to make amends for the pain and suffering they’d caused–that
she
had caused by her hateful need for revenge. Yes, Mike Freeman had stolen her career, but she knew now it was her own fault for trusting him, for telling him things about her company that had given him the ammunition he needed. She wasn’t a child, knew how cut–throat the business world could be, and should have been circumspect. When she’d failed to find another job within the industry, she blamed him–it had been easier that way. In truth, she’d been disheartened, full of resentment, and hadn’t presented herself in the best light.
‘I’m thinking about looking for another job,’ said Paula, suddenly.
Val was startled out of her thoughts. ‘Are you? What brought this on?’
‘I just fancy a change.’
‘I’m still looking, but I haven’t had any luck yet.’
‘At least you can get a job in an office.’
‘It’s funny really,’ Val mused. ‘Before all this happened, Betty was going to look for another job too. She’s fed up with housekeeping and I suggested a job in a shop.’
‘So, when she gets better–hopefully soon, we’ll be looking for jobs at the same time. It’s a strange coincidence, and I hope we all find something. You in an office, Betty in a shop, and, though I’d like to do something else, no doubt I’ll be stuck in another soddin’ factory.’
