Desperate Measures (6 page)
‘Me too, but there’s nothing I can do.’ She scrubbed at her face with a handkerchief and then sighed heavily. ‘Compared to what happened to poor Paula, this all sounds rather pitiful, and I suppose it is really.’
Val’s thoughts turned. Betty had been treated badly, so badly that–instead of harbouring doubts–she now felt a surge of glee that the woman could be recruited. She leaned forward, saying softly, ‘We’ve both had a rotten time of it, but yes, I think Paula has suffered the most. She’s coming round in an hour and I hope she’s feeling better. It was lovely to see how she took to you. In fact, she thinks you’re really nice.’
Betty’s smile was faint, but she looked pleased. ‘Does she?’
‘Yes, and if you don’t want to be on your own, why don’t you join us?’
‘You could bring her up here. I need something to take my mind off Richard and, as you made lunch yesterday, I’ll do it today.’
‘You’re on, but I’d best pop downstairs just in case Paula arrives early.’
‘Thanks for listening, Val–it really has helped.’
‘I’m glad,’ Val said, thinking about Betty’s husband as she went downstairs. He had been so cruel; instead of living in comfort, he should suffer for what he’d done.
Betty fought to push thoughts of Richard away as she looked for something to make for lunch. Val hadn’t been shocked; in fact she had been sympathetic and Betty was so grateful for her friendship.
There wasn’t a great deal in her refrigerator, but enough eggs to knock up omelettes. She would wait until they arrived before cooking them, but they could be mixed in advance. That done, she then buttered some bread. Betty then hurried to the bathroom, appalled when she looked in the mirror to see that her eyes looked awful. She splashed her face with cold water, ran a comb through her hair, and hoped that a dash of face powder would make her look marginally better.
In what felt like no time there was a knock on her door. Forcing a smile, Betty opened it to let Val and Paula in.
‘Oh, this is nice. It’s cosy,’ Paula said as her eyes swept the room.
‘Compared to Val’s flat, I’m afraid mine is rather old–fashioned.’
‘Well I like it,’ the young woman insisted.
‘Sit down, the pair of you, and I’ll get on with lunch. It won’t take long, but would you like something to drink first?’
‘Have you got any booze?’ Paula asked eagerly.
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
Paula looked disappointed, but Val said, ‘Anything cold will do, Betty.’
‘Yeah, for me too.’
Betty made them both a glass of orange squash and then returned to the kitchen. She could hear them chatting, the subject someone called Cheryl and plans to meet up with her the following weekend. It was strange really: she had thought Val lonely, but now friends seemed to be popping up from all over the place. Val and Paula’s friendship was strange; the pair of them seemed like an unlikely couple, and Betty was intrigued about Cheryl. Would she be another one like Paula? Was Val the type who liked to help waifs and strays?
The omelettes were met with appreciation, Paula eating every scrap. ‘Fanks for making lunch, Betty. It was great.’
‘Yes, it was delicious,’ Val agreed.
Betty smiled with pleasure as she began to stack the plates. ‘It’s all right, dear, I can manage,’ she protested as Paula took them through to the kitchen. ‘Shall I make us all a drink?’ she called.
‘It’s all right, I’ll see to it.’
‘Let her do it. She likes to muck in,’ Val advised.
Betty nodded. ‘All right, Paula, you can make the drinks and you’ll find what you need in the cupboards. I’ve got some decent coffee now so Val might like that.’
‘Yes please,’ Val called and then patted the seat beside her. ‘Come on, Betty, sit yourself down and tell me, are you feeling better?’
‘Yes, a little. Having you two for lunch has kept my mind off things, but please, let’s change the subject. I don’t want to think about Richard.’
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just that I’m worried about you.’
Betty lowered her eyes. Was this why Val had made overtures of friendship? Did she see her as another waif and stray to take under her wing? Oh stop it, she chided herself. Val had known nothing about her when they’d met in the park and, instead of going on the defensive, wondering why Val sought her company, she should just appreciate her new kind and caring friend. ‘Thanks, Val, but I’m all right, honestly.’
Paula returned with the coffee, saying, ‘I’ve washed up, but I didn’t know where you keep your china and cutlery so I’ve left it all stacked up.’
‘There was no need to do that, but thank you,’ Betty said, and as it had with Val, her heart warmed more and more towards Paula.
They drank their coffee, and when Paula asked her about her job, Betty described her duties, along with all the wonderful antique furniture and paintings in the house.
‘It sounds nicer than working in a factory,’ Paula mused.
‘I’m on my own all day, and it can be a bit boring.’
‘I wouldn’t mind that.’
They went on to talk about Val’s job, happy in each other’s company now, but then, at four o’clock, Val said that Treacle would need a walk.
Paula rose to her feet too, and impulsively Betty hugged the girl, finding it returned as she said, ‘We must do this again.’
‘Yes, I’d like that,’ Paula said.
Betty was sorry to see Paula and Val leave and remained in her doorway when they walked downstairs–but, unaware of this, they began talking about her, their voices drifting back up to her.
‘I really like Betty, Val. Do you think she’ll want to join us?’
‘I hope so. The sooner we get started, the better,’ Val replied, but then her voice went out of range as they reached the ground floor.
Betty closed her door, finding herself intrigued. Join them? Join them in what?
Paula nervously left her flat on Monday morning, constantly glancing behind her as she hurried to the bus stop on East Hill. As usual she was dressed dowdily Before it happened, before Ian Parker had raped her, she’d been full of confidence, wearing the latest fashions, like most girls, proudly showing off her shapely legs in miniskirts. She had enjoyed a laugh, nights out, and her friends had likened her to the pop singer Lulu. Paula couldn’t sing, but had to admit that there was a slight resemblance in their build and features.
When her mother remarried and moved out of London, she’d been glad to remain in the capital, finding a little bedsit close to Clapham Junction. She liked her independence, loved being able to hop on a bus over to the King’s Road and Carnaby Street, but now the latest trends held no interest. A young man was walking towards her and Paula cringed, folding in on herself until he passed. At last she reached the bus stop to see one of the girls who worked at the factory already waiting.
‘Watcha. Did you have a nice weekend?’
Paula just nodded, feeling nothing in common with the fashionably dressed girl of similar age.
‘I went to a new shop that’s opened in Kensington High Street. Biba, it’s called and you should see it. The décor’s all black, in the 1930s’ style, with potted palms and loads of hat–stands festooned with feather boas. It was packed, especially in the communal changing room, but the clothes are fantastic. I got a great dress and wore it to the Hammersmith Palais on Saturday night.’
Paula eyes were fixed ahead, saved from answering as a bus drew up. She stood back to let the other girl get on first, relieved when she called, ‘I’m going upstairs for a ciggie.’
Paula wanted to smoke too, but unwilling to chat to the young girl she stayed downstairs, relieved to find a seat next to an older woman. Her thoughts drifted to Betty, a woman she had liked, one who had held her, comforted her when she cried. Unlike her own mother, Betty had appeared warm and caring, her sympathy genuine. It had been six months since she’d seen her mother, but that wasn’t unusual. On rare occasions she travelled to Essex to see her, but never felt welcome as her mother’s life now revolved around her new husband.
Paula had no idea who her father was, and had given up asking. From what she’d seen of her mother’s life, the men who had come and gone, she doubted if her mother even knew which one had fathered her.
When the bus pulled up at a stop a passenger got on, taking a seat in front of her. Paula took one look at the back of his head and her heart stopped. He had red hair and that was enough to bring back the nightmare. She’d been so stupid, mad to be impressed that Ian Parker had a car. When he’d asked to take her home from the dance she had jumped at the chance, and he’d seemed so nice, with green eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Ian Parker was over six feet tall and she’d felt diminutive beside him as they walked to his car, but he hadn’t driven home. Instead he’d taken her to Clapham Common, pulling up in a secluded side road. At first she hadn’t been nervous, and had in fact felt excited when he pulled her into his arms. Even when he tried it on she hadn’t panicked, used to boys’ fumbling attempts and how to put an end to them. As soon as his hand went up her skirt, she had shoved it away, and when he immediately stopped, she felt safe, in control. He had then suggested getting out of the car, saying that as it was such a warm, clear night, they would be able to see the stars, something he professed an interest in. She’d agreed, but that moment, that one decision, had changed her life. Something had been taken away from her–something she could never get back.
Paula shivered, the scene playing over and over in her mind as her hands wrung in her lap. They had walked onto the common, Ian pointing out the Milky Way and other formations. She’d been impressed with his knowledge, trying her best to sound intelligent, but then shortly afterwards he struck. She’d been forced onto the grass, Ian’s hands pushing up her skirt, pulling at her knickers, ignoring her kicks and screams of pain as he entered her. She’d been left broken, sobbing, whilst he just walked away, never once looking back.
‘Are you all right, ducks?’ the elderly woman sitting beside Paula asked.
It was only then that Paula became aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks. She fumbled for a handkerchief, wiped them away and managed to croak, ‘Yes,’ before rising swiftly to her feet, heading for the platform and willing the bus to stop.
It slowed on the approach to some traffic lights and Paula jumped off, relieved to find that it wasn’t far to the factory. She clocked in, glad that she had managed to pull herself together as she entered the machine room. God, would she ever get over what Ian Parker had done to her? Would it always haunt her? And at the moment it wasn’t her mother she longed for–it was the comfort of Betty Grayson’s arms.
Cheryl Cutter vigorously washed her face and then frowned at her reflection in the mirror. She’d been complimented on her nice complexion, but secretly longed to look more glamorous. Her hair was short, wavy, naturally auburn, and her eyes were green. Instead of pale skin with a scattering of freckles across her nose, she’d prefer to have olive tones and mysterious, cat–shaped eyes like the film star Sophia Loren. With her head on one side, she tried a seductive pout, but then burst out laughing. There was no way she could look seductive and had once heard herself described as wholesome; something she had to admit was true.
With a sigh, Cheryl took a dress from her wardrobe. It was Friday evening and she was going to see Val, hoping to meet Betty, but in truth she was having serious doubts about Val’s plans. When Val had first mentioned it, Cheryl had thought it could work, but as time passed, with lots of time to think, her nervousness had increased. The plan was fraught with risks, ones Cheryl felt sure could lead them all into deep trouble.
Cheryl slipped on a pair of white sandals and, after picking up her handbag, locked her door, still wondering if she should back out now before it was too late.
When she arrived at Val’s flat, Cheryl was ushered inside, Val saying, ‘If Betty doesn’t come down, I’ll take you upstairs to meet her. She knows my story and on Saturday she heard Paula’s. I realise it was only six days ago, but we really do have to move things forward. If Betty can’t be recruited, I’ll have to find someone else. The trouble is that could take ages, so let’s see how she reacts to what happened to you. Oh, and if you get the chance, it might intrigue her if you can somehow mention that I’m going to help you.’
‘Yes, all right, but after hearing about Paula, my story will sound a bit tame.’
‘Maybe, but nevertheless, you were swindled. If it hadn’t been for that dealer, you wouldn’t be stuck in nurses’ quarters.’
Cheryl lowered her eyes, wondering how Val would react if she pulled out. Yes, she’d been cheated, but surely what Val wanted to do was a step too far? She’d been mad to agree, had been sucked in when she’d heard about what happened to Paula.
Poor Paula, and thinking about her Cheryl knew she couldn’t back out now. She was tied to this group, not only for Paula’s sake, but her own too. If there was a chance of getting her money back she had to take it. Cheryl was snapped out of her thoughts when there was a sudden rap on the door.
Val opened it to admit a plump, middle–aged woman. ‘Betty,’ she said, ‘I’m glad you’ve popped down. I’ve a friend here I’d like you to meet.’
As the woman stepped inside, she said hesitantly, ‘Err…hello.’
Val made the introductions. ‘Betty, this is Cheryl. Cheryl Cutter.’
‘Hello, Betty, it’s nice to meet you.’
‘Cheryl’s a nurse and has just finished a stint on nights,’ Val explained.
‘Oh dear, that can’t be much fun. Do you enjoy nursing?’ Betty asked as she took a seat.
‘Yes, well, except for the shifts.’
‘It doesn’t help that Cheryl has to live in nurses’ quarters, but after what happened to her, she has no choice.’
‘Why what happened?’
Cheryl found herself annoyed that Val had jumped in with both feet. She knew that Val was anxious to get started on their plans, but surely this was rushing things? Obviously impatient, it was Val who answered Betty’s question.
‘I’m sure Cheryl will tell you what happened to her, but I’ll start by saying she was robbed.’
‘Robbed! How awful. Were you hurt?’
Once again Val jumped in. ‘Not physically, but financially and emotionally. Tell her what happened, Cheryl.’
Exhaling, Cheryl gathered her thoughts before starting at the beginning. ‘I’m twenty–nine now, but tragically my parents were killed in a bombing raid when I was just a year old.’
‘How awful for you.’
Betty sounded so sympathetic, her eyes kind, and it encouraged Cheryl to go on. ‘To be honest, I was so young that I don’t remember it, or being taken to live with my grandmother. She was a widow, living in Richmond, and it must have been hard for her, but she took me on. I grew up seeing her as my mother, and loved her dearly. When I left school I was drawn to nursing, qualified, and decided to make it my career, perhaps specialising in midwifery.’
‘Oh, I’d have loved to do something like that, but I just got married and became a housewife and mother.’
‘Betty, I’ve told you,’ Val said. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘No, there isn’t,’ Cheryl agreed, ‘but I had to put my career on hold when my grandmother became ill. I stayed at home to nurse her until…until she died.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear that. You must have been devastated.’
‘Yes, I was, and as my grandmother’s house was rented, the landlord said I had to move out. I think he was going to turn it into flats, double his profit. I returned to nursing and, with no other choice, I applied for, and got, nurse’s accommodation.’
‘You’re jumping the gun, Cheryl. Tell Betty about the dealer.’
‘Yes, I was coming to that. I was in such a state, grieving for my grandmother, but the new place was furnished, and with no room for anything but a few ornaments, I had to have my grandmother’s house cleared. All the furniture was old–fashioned, mostly junk really, but hoping there might be something of value, I invited a local dealer to see it. Two men came, but they didn’t want any of it, saying there was nothing worth buying. I was so upset, but hearing my plight they were very kind and offered to clear it for me. There was a picture above the hearth, filthy from years of smoke damage, but obviously feeling sorry for me, one of the men said he might be able to sell it, and offered me twenty pounds.’
‘Yes, twenty pounds,’ Val said scornfully, ‘and wait till you hear the rest.’
‘I trusted them, Betty, but they took advantage of me in my grief. You see, about six months later, I happened to pass the dealer’s shop. When I glanced in the window, I stopped in my tracks. It had been cleaned and was hardly recognisable as the picture that had hung over my grandmother’s fireplace, but I had grown up seeing it and knew it was hers. It had a prominent place in the window, and the price tag was for two thousand pounds.’
‘What?’ Betty gasped. ‘Oh my God, what did you do?’
‘I was furious and went into the shop to confront the dealer–it was a waste of time and I got nowhere.’
‘Yes, and that’s how we met,’ Val interrupted. ‘Cheryl came to see my employer, but unfortunately she had signed a receipt saying “sold as seen”. There was nothing Mr Warriner could do. In my eyes the dealer had cheated her, stolen from her, but he had the law on his side. Yes, I work for a solicitor, but sometimes I think the law is an ass.’
‘It’s dreadful,’ said Betty.
‘Yes, and Val was so kind,’ Cheryl went on. ‘She saw how upset I was and, as it was her lunch break, she invited me to join her for a coffee. I told her how the money would have given me security, the means to buy perhaps a small flat, but instead I’m forced to remain in nurses’ quarters. It’s awful, and my grandmother would turn in her grave if she knew I’d been cheated, but I still think it’s nothing compared to what happened to Paula.’
Betty looked surprised. ‘Oh, you’ve met her too.’
Cheryl felt colour flooding her cheeks, scrabbled around for an answer, and was glad when Val came to the rescue.
‘Yes, Cheryl has met Paula, and in fact they’ve become friends. We’re all meeting up in the park tomorrow, Betty, so why don’t you join us?’
Obviously puzzled, Betty’s eyes flicked between them, but then she said, ‘All right, yes, I’d like that.’
‘Good, and shall we say midday?’
‘That’s fine.’
‘Right then, now, if you’re ready to go, Cheryl, I’ll run you home.’
‘Thanks, Val. I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t met you, and I know Paula feels the same. We know you’ll be able to help us, and we’re very grateful.’
Betty’s brows were creased as she rose to her feet. ‘Right, well, I’d best be off. Bye, Cheryl, it was nice to meet you, and…and I’ll see you tomorrow.’
When Cheryl had said goodbye, Val showed Betty out, fingers crossed that her ploy had worked. When she closed the door she turned to Cheryl. ‘Come on then, let’s get you home.’
They climbed into her car, Val then saying, ‘I think the timing was right. Betty has heard your story now and, after the hint you dropped, she must be intrigued.’
‘Maybe, but when she hears what we plan to do, she’ll probably run a mile. When are you going to tell her?’
‘When we all meet up tomorrow.’
‘That soon? Are you sure you’re not rushing it?’
‘Maybe, but I can’t afford to waste any more time on Betty and I think it’s worth the risk.’
‘I spoke to Paula yesterday and I must say she seems rather taken with Betty.’
‘Paula needs mothering and Betty seems to sense that. I’m afraid I’m not very demonstrative, but Betty thought nothing of holding Paula when she broke down.’
‘That’s nice, but I’m more like you. In my profession we have to grow an outer shell or the awful things we see would be too much to cope with.’
‘I can understand that, but how you do it is beyond me. Just the sight of blood makes my stomach turn, let alone vomit and bedpans.’
‘It has its rewards.’
‘Not in the way of pay, that’s for sure.’
‘There’s worse off than me, but back to Betty. Do you think she’ll want to join us?’
‘I’m not sure, Cheryl. She’s a nice lady, but very bitter about what happened to her; she’s rather meek and unworldly. She may find the whole idea too frightening.’
‘I wouldn’t blame her for that.’
Val frowned, sensing an undertone in Cheryl’s voice. ‘Are you changing your mind? Do you want to back out?’
‘No, but what we intend to do
is
frightening.’
‘As long as our planning is meticulous, with every last detail covered, nothing can go wrong.’
‘I hope you’re right, Val.’
‘I am, so stop worrying.’
When she dropped Cheryl off outside her quarters, Val called goodbye, but drove home chewing worriedly on her bottom lip. Cheryl seemed to be getting nervous and she didn’t want this fear to show in front of Betty. Maybe it was a mistake for them all to be there when she revealed their plans–perhaps it would be better if she told Betty in advance. Somehow she would have to broach the subject without putting herself, along with the others, in a bad light. And so for the rest of the journey, she worked out her strategy.
