Desperate Measures (16 page)
Trevor Riverton had been annoyed when he spoke to Mr Warriner, but gradually calmed down. Lady Smythe had obviously made a mistake and given him the wrong details, but sure that he could find her, he started to make enquiries.
It was late afternoon when he slammed down the telephone. Lady Margaret Parker Smythe wasn’t listed anywhere, and after making call after call to various acquaintances, none of whom had heard of her, he was beginning to feel that she didn’t exist. Yet he had met her. She had been to his shop and he’d found the Dolchini that she was looking for. The find had been fortuitous, coming just at the right time, but now he couldn’t find the bloody woman to sell it to her.
At that moment it was as though a lightbulb pinged on in his brain, illuminating the truth. It had been a scam: it had to be. Trevor felt sick as he snatched up the receiver again. Marcus might be back in Richmond by now and, dialling his number, he was relieved when he answered.
‘Marcus, it’s Trevor. I’m bringing a painting round for you to look at.’
‘Hello, Trevor, I’ve only just got in the door. It was a good trip and I found several nice pieces you might be interested in.’
‘Yes, yes, all right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’
Trevor locked the shop and, after carefully stowing the painting in the boot of his car, he drove to Marcus’s place, his teeth clenched in anger. When he arrived he grabbed the painting and as soon as Marcus let him in, Trevor said bluntly, ‘Take a look at that. Is it a Dolchini?’
The man’s brow rose but he made no comment as he took the painting and, after studying it for some time, said, ‘No, but it’s a very good copy.’
‘I knew it! I knew it,’ Trevor barked.
‘Where did you get it?’
Trevor took a great gulp of air and then started at the beginning, seeing Marcus’s eyes narrowing in thought as he listened. When he had related the whole story, he said, ‘So, as I now realise, it must have been a scam, and a very clever one.’
‘Can you prove it?’
‘Of course I bloody can’t. I’ve been over and over it, but there’s nothing. I was the only one who saw this supposed Lady Smythe, and now she’s disappeared off the face of the earth.’
‘What about the number she gave you? The solicitor.’
‘I told you, he’s never heard of her, and I’m certain he was telling the truth. It was probably a number she just picked out of the phone book.’
‘What about the woman who sold you the painting? Is there any way of linking her to this Lady Smythe?’
Trevor exhaled with exasperation. ‘The only way I can think of is to sit outside her flat in the hope that this supposed Lady Smythe turns up.’
‘Well, old chap, you’ve got a business to run, and unless you’re prepared to stake out her flat for an indefinite period of time, it looks as though you’ve been well and truly taken. If you ask me, you’re just going to have to swallow your loss.’
‘Yes, but not before I’ve given that bloody woman in Battersea a piece of my mind.’
‘What good would that do? You shouldn’t have bought the painting without my seeing it and it’s a lesson learned. Anyway, let’s face it, any scam is usually the other way round and we’ve done well over the years.’
‘It’s a lesson that’s cost me over two thousand pounds.’
‘A fair amount to lose, but don’t worry, we’ll soon make it up. Come and look at those pieces I told you about.’
Yes, Trevor thought, he was able to weather the loss, and an opportunity to make up the money was sure to arrive. There were always people dying, houses to be cleared, and relatives who had no idea that some of the things they’d been left were valuable. Nevertheless, despite what Marcus said, he was still determined to see the bloody woman. It wouldn’t get him his money back, but at least having it out with her would abate his anger.
He took a look at the antiques Marcus had acquired, ones that the man had got for peanuts and, cheering at the profit margin, he then left. A glance at his watch showed him that it wasn’t too late to drive to Battersea; knowing that he’d been taken for a fool, he was determined to give the woman a piece of his mind.
Betty’s eyes widened when she opened her door, the colour draining from her face. ‘Y-you,’ she stammered.
‘Yes, Mrs Grayson, if indeed that’s your name. Don’t tell me you weren’t expecting me.’
‘What do you want?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? I want my money back.’
Betty floundered for a reply. ‘I…I haven’t got it.’
‘Who has then? The supposed Lady Smythe?’
‘I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Don’t give me that. It was a scam, and I admit a good one, but don’t take me for a fool. The painting you sold me was fake, a copy; as I said, I want my money back.’
Something welled up within Betty. This was the man who had swindled Cheryl. She had gone into his shop, like him, tried to get her money back, but he’d refused. How dare he come to her door? How dare he make demands? He might know it was a scam, but he couldn’t prove it, and, knowing that, she lied confidently. ‘I didn’t know it was a fake. You bought it and wrote “sold as seen” on my receipt yourself. I don’t have to give you your money back, and you know that.’
‘Where is she? Where’s this Lady Smythe? She was part of it, and don’t bother trying to deny it.’
‘I don’t know anyone by that name. Now go away,’ Betty demanded as she tried to shut the door, but his hand came out, holding it open.
‘I’m going, but if I ever set eyes on you again, or the supposed Lady Smythe, you won’t get off so lightly.’
Betty pushed harder on the door and was relieved when it closed. She rushed to the window, saw the man getting into his car and felt the air leaving her body in a huge sigh when he drove off. She’d done it; she’d faced him! Wait till she told Val, and on that thought, Betty hurried downstairs. ‘Well done,’ Val said when Betty recounted what had happened.
‘I didn’t know I had it in me.’
‘I did–I don’t think you realise how much you’ve changed since we first met. Now come on, let’s have a sherry. It’s over with now and I don’t think we’ll have to worry about that dealer again.’
Betty felt a surge of pride. Yes, she had changed, grown in confidence, and once again thanked her lucky stars for the day she had met Val.
It was four days later, Tuesday evening, and now that Trevor Riverton had been and gone, Val felt confident that they could all meet up again. She poured four glasses of sherry, saying, ‘I’m glad you turned up with a bottle, Cheryl. Mine’s nearly all gone.’
‘With an extra hundred pounds, it’s nothing, and as you always provide the sherry, it’s only fair.’
‘Yeah, I should buy you one too,’ Paula said.
‘And me come to that.’ This from Betty.
Val handed out the drinks and then lifted her own glass. ‘To us, and another plan successfully completed.’
‘To us,’ the others chorused.
‘I think we’re getting rather good at this,’ Val said. ‘Well, other than the fact that I didn’t consider that the dealer might turn up at my office.’
‘It was only one small thing and there’s no harm done,’ said Betty. ‘Mind you, it wasn’t pleasant when he turned up at my door.’
‘Yes, but you handled him, and well. Here’s to you, Betty.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, her face pink with pleasure.
‘Cheryl,’ said Paula, ‘I know I rang you in the week about going to see Charlie’s furniture. Are you still on for Saturday morning?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Right, so I’ll see you outside the cinema in Northcote Road.’
‘Thanks again, Paula.’
‘Don’t thank me, thank Charlie. He said I can pick up his budgie soon. He wants to know it’s settled before he leaves.’
‘When are you going to start looking for a flat?’ Val asked.
‘Very soon and I’ll go to a few estate agents to see what they’ve got on offer. I still can’t believe it. A place of my own,’ she said, grinning from ear to ear.
‘You’re lucky,’ Paula commented. ‘I hate me bedsit, but this job is a bit better paid so I might start looking for a bigger room.’
‘I wish I had two bedrooms,’ Betty said. ‘If I did, instead of living alone in a bedsit, I’d have you living with me.’
‘Cor, bless you, Betty, but I’m a messy bugger and you wouldn’t want to put up with me. Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll find something and I won’t be on me own any more. I’ll have me budgie.’
Val frowned, wondering why Cheryl’s face had flushed, but then put it down to the sherry. ‘Let’s have another drink,’ she suggested.
‘Thanks,’ Cheryl said, ‘and how about making arrangements now to go out for a proper celebration?’
‘Smashing,’ said Betty.
They made arrangements for Saturday week; the venue, Val’s favourite French restaurant in Chelsea.
‘There’s still this weekend. Once I’ve taken Cheryl to see Charlie’s furniture, I ain’t got anything else to do.’
‘Why don’t you both come here afterwards?’
‘That’s fine with me,’ Cheryl agreed.
‘I’ll bake a cake,’ Betty offered. ‘I just wish I had the recipe for that tarte tatin they serve at the restaurant.’
As Betty went on to talk to the others about the wonderful food on offer, Val was hardly listening. She had spent so much time working out the first two plans that she’d hardly given any thought to Mike Freeman, and how she could get her revenge. They all needed a break from the planning, really, and with Cheryl looking for a flat and Paula a bedsit, it would give her plenty of breathing space. There was Betty’s plan, too, but as she’d been the last recruit, surely she’d agree to wait her turn?
‘Watcha,’ Paula said on Saturday morning as she hurried to greet Cheryl outside the cinema. There was a cold wind blowing and she was glad of the woolly scarf thrown around her neck.
Cheryl looked cold too, her hands stuffed in her coat pockets. ‘Hello, Paula. Is it far to this man’s house?’
‘No, it’s just a few streets along.’
‘Come on, let’s go,’ Cheryl urged.
They walked along Northcote Road, the market stalls on the opposite side busy with shoppers. It brought back childhood memories for Paula, of trailing behind her mother while she went from stall to stall, her mum flirting outrageously with the costermongers as she bartered for the cheapest vegetables.
‘It’s this one,’ she said now as they turned a corner. Charlie’s house, along with all the others in the row, was two storeys high, plain red brick and flat fronted. Number fourteen was about halfway along and, raising her hand, Paula rapped the door knocker.
‘Come on in,’ Charlie invited.
‘Watcha, Charlie,’ Paula said as they stepped inside. ‘This is me mate, Cheryl.’
As Cheryl held out her hand, Charlie shook it, then led them along a narrow passage and into what was obviously his living room. He swept an arm around, indicating the furniture. ‘Well, girl, it ain’t much, but you’re welcome to any of it. I’ve got some kitchen and bedroom furniture too.’
Paula took in the dark green three–piece suite that was old but in good condition, along with an oak sideboard. There wasn’t much else in the room, but hearing a chirp she made straight for a cage sitting on a small table. ‘Hello, Charlie,’ she said, smiling at the pretty budgie who sat on a perch, his head cocked to one side as his beady eyes surveyed her.
‘I forgot to tell you that he can talk,’ Charlie said as he came to her side.
‘Can he? What does he say?’
‘Who’s a pretty boy, for one, and Charlie is me darling.’
Paula giggled with delight. ‘Who taught him to say that?’
‘Well it wasn’t me, that’s for sure. It was my old china. She spent hours talking to him.’
‘He’s lovely,’ Paula said softly.
Charlie sniffed, his voice cracking with emotion. ‘I’m just glad the little tyke’s going to a good home.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll look after him.’
Charlie turned to Cheryl. ‘What do you think? Is this stuff any good to you?’
‘Oh yes, and thank you, I’d love it.’
‘You’d best come upstairs to see the bedroom stuff, and there’s a table and chairs in the kitchen, along with a gas cooker.’
Paula left them to it, remaining in the living room with the budgie. She was delighted when he scuttled along his perch to ring a little bell. ‘Pretty boy,’ she said. ‘Go on, say it. Who’s a pretty boy?’
The bird swung down to a lower perch and made for a length of millet seed, which he began to swiftly demolish, the shucks landing in the bottom of the cage. Paula knew she’d have many questions to ask Charlie about the budgie’s care but in the meantime continued to talk to the bird as she waited for them to return.
Cheryl looked at the bedroom furniture and smiled with pleasure. She hadn’t known what to expect, maybe plain utility pieces, but the large carved oak wardrobe and dressing table had come as a surprise. The bed looked solid, the headboard too, carved, and with a new mattress, perfect. ‘I don’t know what to say, Charlie. This is wonderful, but surely you could sell it? At least let me offer you something.’
‘I’d rather do someone a good turn–and before you make me an offer, no, I won’t take a penny. Now come on, I’ll show you the kitchen stuff, and then if you want that too, I’ll have to ask you when you can pick it all up. I’m off to New Zealand in just over two weeks so it’ll have to be before then.’
‘Two weeks? Oh, goodness.’
‘As soon as I agreed to go, my son booked me a berth. Once the house is cleared I can always go into a hotel for a couple of days.’
Cheryl’s thoughts raced. She hadn’t even found a flat yet, but surely she could arrange storage. ‘I’m buying a flat and can’t tell you how wonderful this is. Yes, of course I’d love to have it and I’ll make sure it’s taken away as near as possible to your leaving date.’
‘That’s smashing.’
She followed Charlie downstairs, and seeing the table and chairs she agreed to take them too, along with a dresser and gas cooker. They went back to the living room but Charlie’s next words had her reeling.
‘To tell you the truth, love, you can have just about everything. Curtains, linen, cutlery, crockery–and anything else that you see.’
‘Charlie, I don’t know what to say,’ Cheryl said, feeling overwhelmed by the man’s generosity.
‘Well, I can’t take it with me so, as I said, it might as well do you a turn. Paula here told me that you’re a nurse; seeing how your profession looked after my wife when she was in hospital, I’m just glad it’s going to someone who needs and deserves it. I did offer it to Paula first, but it seems she lives in a bedsit and from the way she described it, there ain’t room to swing a cat, let alone fit this stuff in.’
Charlie’s description of Paula’s room struck a chord, just as it had last night at Val’s. She
could
buy a two–bedroom flat, or even a house, but still couldn’t face offering Paula a home. Oh, why couldn’t she cast her doubts about her to one side? It was thanks to Paula that she was getting all this furniture, that and the wonderful generosity of this kind old man.
‘Charlie, can I still take the budgie next week?’
‘Yeah, how about Friday?’
‘Smashing, but you’ll have to tell me how to look after him, what sort of seed to buy and things like that.’
‘Don’t worry, we’ll sort that out, but first we’ve got to talk about all these bits and bobs, the china and such. If you want them, Cheryl, they’ll have to be boxed up.’
‘My nurses’ quarters aren’t far from here, so if it’s all right with you, I can do that when I’m off–duty.’
‘Yeah, and I can give her a hand,’ Paula said.
‘You’d better get started soon. There’s loads of stuff to sort out.’
‘Is tomorrow soon enough?’ Cheryl asked, and grateful for Paula’s offer she added, ‘Are you free then, Paula?’
‘Yeah, of course I am.’
‘That suits me fine, girls. I’ll pop down to the shops later to see if I can cadge some cardboard boxes.’
‘Yes, and we’ll try to find some too,’ said Cheryl.
‘Right then, if you’re done, I’ll see you both tomorrow.’
Paula went over to the budgie’s cage, giving him one last look before she followed Charlie and Cheryl to the door. ‘He didn’t talk, Charlie, and I chatted to him for ages.’
‘Give him time, love. He ain’t used to you yet, but once he gets started there’s no stopping him. I chuck a cloth over his cage at night to shut him up.’
Cheryl smiled warmly at Charlie when she said goodbye. He was a lovely man, and she hoped he’d be happy with his fresh start in New Zealand. Impulsively she linked arms with Paula as they walked along the street and the girl smiled with pleasure. As they turned the corner they saw a bus pulling in at the stop and ran to catch it, both breathless as they sank onto a seat.
‘Blimey, it’s empty,’ Paula said. ‘Mind you, I expect everyone’s upstairs having a smoke.’
‘I prefer to sit down here,’ said Cheryl.
‘Yeah, well, I suppose I can do without a ciggie. I’m glad you’re taking Charlie’s stuff. As he said, it’ll do you a turn.’
‘The furniture and things are lovely and it’s thanks to all of you that I’ve got the money to buy a place of my own. I still can hardly believe it.’
‘I know how you feel. I felt the same when Ian Parker was put behind bars.’
Cheryl took a deep breath and at last voiced her concerns. ‘Ian Parker’s face still haunts me. When he was in the identity parade he looked so scared.’
‘Huh, I’m glad. I was scared too, shit–scared when he raped me, and as far as I’m concerned he deserved all he got.’
‘I just want to make sure we did the right thing.’
‘Of course we did.’
‘Paula, I hate to ask, but did…did you lead him on at all? I know that once men get…well…aroused, it’s hard for them to stop.’
Paula’s head shot round, her eyes popping as though on stalks. ‘Lead him on? No, of course I didn’t lead him on. When we was in his car we had a bit of a kiss and cuddle, but when his hands began to stray I told him to leave off.’
‘Do you think it was wise to walk onto the common with him?’
‘What is this, Cheryl? Why the questions? Don’t you believe me…is that it?’
‘Are you all right, ladies?’ interrupted the conductor.
‘Yes, we’re fine,’ Cheryl said, taking out her purse and paying both fares.
‘Shit, the clippie probably heard every word I said.’
Cheryl ran a hand across her face. ‘I’m sorry, Paula. I…l do believe you, of course I do, but if you hadn’t gone onto the common with him, it might not have happened.’
‘Oh, so now it’s my fault!’ Paula hissed.
‘No, no, I’m not saying that.’
Paula glanced over her shoulder, her voice still low but emphatic. ‘It sounds like you are to me. All right, I might have been a mug for getting out of the car with him, but that didn’t give him the right to attack me! He said he’d point out stars to me, the Milky Way and that, and he sounded such a swot that I trusted him. I wasn’t kissing him or anything…we were just looking up at the sky when he pounced. He…he raped me, Cheryl. I tried to fight him off, but I couldn’t.’
Cheryl felt sick, her stomach churning with guilt. She grabbed Paula’s hand. ‘I’m so sorry, really I am. I shouldn’t have doubted you and I know that now.’
Paula snatched her hand away. ‘So this is why you’ve been funny with me lately?’
‘I was just feeling so guilty–sick that I might have put an innocent man in prison.’
‘Innocent! You must be joking. I ain’t a liar, I told the truth. I was the innocent one, but he took that away from me. You’re as bad as the police. You think that just because I don’t talk posh I must be a tart.’
‘I don’t think that, really I don’t. Paula, please, I said I’m sorry and I meant it. Forget I said anything. Please, can’t we put all this behind us?’
‘Put it behind us! You’ve got to be kidding. Huh, and I thought you liked me.’
‘I do like you,’ she cried and, knowing how deeply she had hurt Paula, Cheryl knew she had to make amends. ‘In fact, I like you so much that when I find a flat, I want you to share it with me.’
‘Stick your bleedin’ flat.’
‘Oh, Paula, don’t say that. You’d be out of that poky bedsit and it’ll be a proper home. Please say you’ll share it with me.’
‘I dunno. I’ll think about it.’
Paula sounded so young, so churlish, but Cheryl couldn’t blame her. Maybe it would be better to say no more–to leave it for now until she’d had time to calm down. She sat quietly as they continued their journey. With Paula in this mood it was going to be an awkward evening and Cheryl now wished that she hadn’t agreed to go to Val’s flat.