Desperate Measures (3 page)
Treacle yelped with excitement when Val and Paula walked in, his small tail wagging as he jumped up at Val’s legs but, intent on Paula, she said impatiently, ‘Get down, boy. I’ll take you for a walk soon, but not now.’
‘Oh…Val,’ Paula cried again.
‘Sit down,’ Val urged, worried by the girl’s obvious distress. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘It was so hot in me bedsit and I felt stifled, so much so that I risked going out. I only went for a little walk, but…but I saw him.’
‘Did he see you?’
‘N–no, and before he got the chance I legged it. I…I ran, Val, almost all the way here.’
‘Oh, darling, I’m sorry I wasn’t in,’ Val consoled.
‘It ain’t fair. He…he ruined my life and shouldn’t be out there walking the streets.’
‘I’ll get you a drink,’ Val offered as she rose to her feet, her thoughts taking her back to the first time she had met Paula Richardson. She’d been to Clapham Junction and was walking back to where her car was parked when she saw a young girl ahead of her, limping and in obvious pain. The girl then stopped, and as it looked like she couldn’t walk any further, Val had gone to offer her assistance. That girl had been Paula. She had tripped badly, her ankle swollen, and despite her protests Val had insisted on driving her to casualty. Whilst waiting for X–ray results they had chatted; luckily it turned out that her ankle wasn’t broken, just sprained. On the drive home, Paula had been quiet, but when they neared her street it was as though a long–held dam burst and she poured out the story of what had happened to her so many months earlier. As she’d listened, Val had been shocked, sickened by the girl’s dreadful ordeal. Paula had looked so young, sounded so alone, a diminutive blue–eyed blonde who wasn’t yet twenty. Paula’s ordeal had awakened something in Val. She too had been hurt. Oh, not in such a dreadful way, but she was living with bitterness and hatred. Yet why should she? Why should Paula? Val had found that she wanted to do something, and, like an avenging angel, to hit back.
The chance meeting with Paula had sparked off Val’s plans, but that had been eighteen months ago and they were still a long way from fruition. Paula had suffered so much, was still suffering, her need the greatest, and Val was determined that she should be the first to benefit from her plans. She wanted to give Paula her life back, to get on with it, her surge of impatience quickly stifled when Paula began to cry.
‘Oh, darling, don’t,’ Val urged as she gave Paula a glass of sherry. ‘You’re safe now, and soon, I hope, you’ll never have to be afraid again. The woman you saw is the one I told you about, and I’m hoping she’ll be a suitable recruit. If she is, we can go ahead with our plans.’
‘Oh, Val, I hope you’re right. Before I met you, I…I didn’t think I’d be able to go on.’
‘Darling, don’t say that. I know you were dreadfully depressed, close to ending it all, but there’s no need now. We’ll get him, you’ll see.’
‘And you think this woman will help?’
‘With any luck, yes. Her name is Betty Grayson. She lives alone, and works as a housekeeper in Kensington. She also has two grown–up children.’
‘Won’t they be a problem?’
Val was pleased to see that Paula had calmed down. ‘No, I don’t think so. They live out of London and whilst I’ve been watching her, I’ve only seen the daughter once.’
‘It sounds like you’ve done all right so far. Have you told Cheryl about her?’
‘Not yet. She’s on duty all day but I’ll give her a ring this evening.’
Treacle began to clamour again, and knowing the signs that a walk couldn’t wait, Val said, ‘I’ll have to take him out, but why don’t you join me? After that, I’ll run you home.’
‘Yeah, all right, but I was hoping to stay a bit longer.’
‘I’m sorry, darling, but Betty has invited me up to her place for coffee and, if we want to get things moving, I must take every opportunity to work on her.’
Paula’s voice was lacklustre. ‘Yeah, I suppose so, but will I see you next weekend?’
Val wanted to use the valuable time to get to know Betty, but with Paula looking at her so hopefully, she just couldn’t refuse. ‘How about next Saturday? I could pick you up at around eleven o’clock.’
‘Great, and…and thanks, Val.’
The two of them left the flat to take Treacle for a walk, the dog almost dragging Val to the nearest tree. When they crossed into the park, Val let him off the lead for a run, whilst Paula’s feet dragged, her eyes flicking nervously around her as they ambled along. Val hated to see her like this, the poor girl a nervous wreck, and felt a wave of determination to move things forward. She’d share a confidence with Betty and cross her fingers that it would be returned.
Impatient to get on with it, Val made it a short walk, then clipped on Treacle’s lead to take him to her car. She opened the back door, the dog scrambling onto the seat. ‘Good boy, and stay there,’ she ordered.
Paula climbed in beside her. Obviously reluctant to be driven home, she said sadly, ‘I hate me bedsit.’
‘Why don’t you look for a better one? It would give you something to do and take your mind off things.’
‘I’d still feel like a prisoner, stuck in the house, too scared to go out.’
‘Not for much longer,’ Val said firmly, hoping she was right.
Soon they pulled up outside the tall, narrow house near Clapham Junction where Paula had a bedsit on the first floor. ‘Bye, Val…and see you next week.’
Val said goodbye, but saw how Paula’s shoulders were stooped with unhappiness as she climbed out of the car to walk to her door. A surge of rage made her heart pound. It was dreadful that Paula had to live like this, and Val’s hands gripped the steering wheel as she drove off, her knuckles white. They had to move forward–had to–and now her thoughts focused on Betty and a way to draw the woman out.
When Val returned to the flats she went straight upstairs to knock on Betty’s door.
‘Val, come on in,’ Betty invited, her face alight with pleasure. ‘When I saw that young woman waiting for you, I wasn’t sure you’d be up for coffee.’
‘I’m a bit late, but Paula was upset and I had to run her home. Do you mind if I bring Treacle in?’
‘Of course not. It was awful to see the poor girl in such a state.’
‘She’s fine now,’ Val said, unwilling as yet to talk about Paula, ‘and just someone I took under my wing.’
In Betty’s flat, Val saw ornaments in abundance, with a fussy crochet runner along the surface of the sideboard. There were embroidered linen chair–backs on the three–piece suite, fussy net curtains at the windows and, though it wasn’t to Val’s taste, it was homely, cosy–a perfect reflection of Betty’s personality.
Treacle made a fuss of Betty as she bent down to stroke him, and then he made straight for the rug in front of the fireplace where he settled down immediately. ‘Well, would you look at that?’ Val said. ‘He’s made himself at home already.’
‘He’s lovely,’ Betty said, smiling wistfully. ‘Now, sit yourself down and I’ll make us a drink. I’m afraid I’ve only got Camp coffee. Will that do?’
‘Sorry, Betty, in that case I’d rather have tea.’
‘Tea it is,’ she said, bustling off to her kitchenette.
Val sat back, her eyes closing as she rehearsed what she was going to say. It wouldn’t do to give too much away yet but, with any luck, if she spoke about her own situation, it would encourage Betty to do the same.
Betty returned with a tray, and along with the tea there was a paper–doily–covered plate holding a selection of biscuits. Like the woman, the china was fussy, the teapot covered with a hand–knitted cosy.
When the tea was poured, Val sighed, saying, ‘It’s been a lovely weekend but back to work tomorrow. It’s not a bad job, but my earnings are a fraction of what they used to be.’
‘Haven’t you always been a receptionist?’
‘No, Betty. At one time I had a flourishing career. I started off as a sales rep for a company supplying laboratory equipment. I gained promotions and eventually became the sales manager.’
‘Really? Goodness, that sounds exciting, but I know little about the commercial world.’
‘It’s amazing how far some women have come since the war ended. Now they have independence, with the opportunity to take up careers that were considered unsuitable for them before the conflict. Yet to gain promotion I’m sure that, like me, they had to fight every step of the way, to prove themselves as capable as men.’
‘Yes, but my daughter is always telling me that things are different now, that women have more opportunities.’
‘She’s probably right. Mind you, sometimes I wish I hadn’t concentrated so hard on a career. I missed out on marriage, on children, but I was ambitious. If I hadn’t been such a fool, if I hadn’t trusted a man…’ Val smiled sadly, leaving the sentence unfinished.
‘Why, what happened?’
‘It’s a long story and I don’t want to bore you.’
‘No, please, I’d love to hear about it.’
‘All right, then. As I said, I was ambitious, and made sure I kept up with current trends in the marketplace, worked hard to find sources of information. It was an exciting time, with new developments in equipment that would require no manual operation. This would be an enormous breakthrough for the industry and started with a titration device patented in America.’
‘Pardon? A what?’
‘Sorry, Betty, it’s all technical jargon–and no wonder you look bemused. I shouldn’t have blinded you with science, so come on, let’s talk about something else.’
‘No, do carry on. It’s just that I don’t know anything about laboratory equipment. You…you mentioned a man?’
Betty seemed eager to hear more, but Val wondered how far to go. She took a deep breath, deciding to expand a little. ‘Yes, there was a man, but he ruined my life. You see during my time as a sales rep, and occasionally as sales manager, I had to do a lot of travelling, sometimes staying overnight in hotels. As our equipment was for targeted markets, such as private laboratories, universities and hospitals, we sometimes came across reps from other companies. It was during an overnight stay that I met Mike Freeman. He was from another firm and it was just friendly rivalry at first, a bit of banter, but I have to admit I was attracted to him. We became involved, seeing each other at every opportunity. He was a sales manager too, with a team about the same size as mine, so it wasn’t always easy. We continued to meet as often as possible for the next eighteen months, but then…’ With a small shake of her head, Val’s sentence trailed off.
Betty leaned forward, softly urging, ‘Oh dear, what happened?’ As always, Val found it hard to talk about Mike Freeman, and hoped she had said enough to encourage Betty to open up too. ‘I…I’m sorry, Betty, it’s so painful, and even now just talking about it upsets me. Please, can we change the subject?’
Betty looked disappointed, but her tone was sympathetic. ‘You poor thing. Yes, talking about things can be painful and I know how you feel. Let’s have another cup of tea and do help yourself to biscuits.’
It boded well that Betty understood how she felt, and though Val wanted to ask more, she held back, hoping that Betty would elaborate on her situation.
She took a biscuit, but after Betty had poured two more cups of tea she said nothing further on the subject, instead saying, ‘I’m looking forward to going to that shop you told me about. You said they sell good–quality second–hand clothes. Where do they get them from?’
‘I’m not really sure, but I would imagine from women who want only the latest fashions. They’re dry–cleaned before going on sale, and though most are from last season, if you buy something classic, and maybe just dress it with beads or a scarf, it’ll carry you through for years.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean by classic, so would…would you help me to choose something?’ Betty asked, going slightly pink.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Oh, Val, thank you,’ said Betty, gratefully.
After that the conversation remained on clothes, designers, and the sort of style that Val thought would suit Betty.
Val then rose to leave, disappointed that Betty hadn’t confided in her any further, but she consoled herself with the thought that it was early days yet. ‘Thanks for the tea. I know we’re going shopping in a couple of weeks, but until then, if you aren’t busy in the evenings, you can always pop down to see me.’
‘I might just do that,’ Betty said, looking pleased at the invitation. ‘Or you can come up here to see me.’
‘Yes, all right,’ Val said. ‘Come on, Treacle, time for your dinner.’
The dog trotted to her side and, after saying goodbye to Betty, they returned downstairs. Val fed Treacle, and then curled on her sofa, feet tucked under her as she went over her plans–beginning with Paula. It would be risky, and she wasn’t sure the others would be willing to go along with her ideas, but they would need Betty to pull it off. Had she been hurt? So badly that she’d agree to join them? God, Val hoped so.
During the next couple of weeks, Val tried to concentrate on her work, but as usual found it boring. She saw Betty at least four times in the evenings but, worried that rushing things would frighten the woman off, no further confidences had been exchanged. Though they had little in common, they were becoming relaxed in each other’s company. Val appreciated Betty’s warm personality, her motherly nature and, obviously lonely, Betty always seemed so grateful to see her.
When Val started out, other than Paula, she hadn’t expected to grow attached to her recruits. She’d seen them as a means to an end, a way to bring closure–not just for Paula and herself, but for them too. Instead she found herself becoming emotionally involved, and that now included Betty too.
While trying to recruit Betty, she’d hadn’t seen much of Paula, but kept in telephone contact with both her and Cheryl. So far there was little to tell them, but after this trip to the second–hand shop, Val decided that over coffee she’d open up again. Surely it would work this time? Surely Betty felt confident enough now to confide in her?
She and Betty were searching the racks, but Val felt a wave of displeasure. Yes, the clothes were nice, of good quality, but nevertheless they weren’t new. At one time she had shopped only in the best outlets, her clothes all bearing designer labels, but because of Mike Freeman, look what she’d come down to. Her wages were low, her car an old wreck, and she was forced to dress in clothes that other women had discarded.
Val’s thoughts were cut off as Betty held up a busily flowered skirt, smiling with delight as she said, ‘I like this one, Val.’
‘Yes, it’s pretty, but maybe something that isn’t gathered so fully around the waist would be better. Something like this,’ she suggested, holding out a fawn, linen skirt that would skim the hips to gently flare out at the hem.
Betty looked doubtful. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Why don’t you try it on?’
‘All right, but I’ll try this one too,’ she said, taking both skirts to the changing room.
Val waited outside and when Betty came out wearing the fawn skirt she was beaming. ‘I’ve never worn this shape before, but I must admit it makes me look slimmer. My broad hips have always been a problem and, as you know, I usually wear full skirts to conceal them.’
‘Yes, but to be honest, gathers or pleats make them look wider. That skirt looks wonderful and the length is perfect.’
‘Do you know,’ Betty said as she eyed herself in a full–length mirror, ‘I think you’re right. I can’t afford both and won’t bother to try the other one.’
The purchase made, they left the small shop, Betty chatting about what she could wear with the skirt. ‘I’ve got a couple of blouses–when we get home, would you help me to choose one?’
‘Yes, if you’d like me to.’
It didn’t take long to drive to Battersea, and after parking they went into the flats. ‘Treacle will need a walk as usual, but then I’ll pop up.’
‘All right. See you soon. And thanks for taking me to that shop, Val.’
‘I’m glad you liked it,’ she replied, saying goodbye before going inside. As usual Treacle went mad when he saw her, and after clipping on his lead Val was outside again and on her way to the park. She wasn’t looking forward to talking about Mike Freeman again, but had to get Betty talking too–and sooner rather than later.
When Val returned, Betty opened her door with a flourish. ‘Come on in. I’ve been sorting out a few blouses for you to look at.’
Treacle made straight for Betty and, seeing that the dog was panting, she hurried to get him a bowl of water. He lapped it up then headed for the rug where he settled down. ‘He was thirsty. What would you like to drink, Val?’
‘Something cold would be nice.’
‘Lemonade?’
‘Yes, lovely.’
Val looked at the blouses, but saw only one that might be suitable. When Betty returned holding two glasses, she pointed it out. ‘That plain pale blue would go nicely with the skirt and I’m sure I’ve got some beads that would tone in nicely.’
‘I can’t take your beads,’ Betty protested.
‘They’d be no loss. I haven’t worn them for ages.’
‘If you’re sure, then thank you very much. I noticed you didn’t buy anything. Wasn’t there anything you liked?’
‘I saw a lovely dress, but with a couple of bills to pay this month I couldn’t afford it.’ Val sighed, ‘My wages were a lot higher when I was a sales manager.’
‘Why did you leave such a good job? Was it to do with that man you mentioned?’
The conversation was going as Val had hoped, but now her expression saddened. ‘Yes…Yes, I’m afraid it was.’
‘I’m sorry, Val. I’ve upset you and shouldn’t have asked.’
‘No, it’s all right, and anyway, perhaps talking about it will help.’ Val paused to take a sip of her lemonade, then saying, ‘I’ve already told you how I met Mike Freeman so I’ll go on from there. We met as often as we could and I found myself falling in love with him. I was so happy, Betty, and we actually began to plan a future together, but then my sales director announced his retirement. Applications were invited for the position and, as it was such a wonderful opportunity, along with a huge rise in salary, I decided to apply.’
‘Oh dear, and I suppose Mike was against it?’
‘No, it was nothing like that. As I said, Mike and I had become very close, and in the same industry we had a lot in common. Being a sales rep or manager can be a lonely life. With so much travelling, along with working long hours, it’s difficult to maintain friendships. As Mike was in the same position he understood, becoming not just my lover, but my dearest friend.’
Betty’s eyes widened and for a fleeting moment Val thought she saw an expression of disapproval. She should’ve guessed that Betty would be old–fashioned in her views and worried that she had put her foot in it by saying that Mike was her lover, she quickly continued, ‘To gain the promotion, my application had to be dynamic, innovative, and through someone I knew, someone that risked their job to tell me, I got a whisper that their research company was very close to developing a ninety-six-well microplate for scientific assays and—’
‘A what plate?’
‘It doesn’t matter, Betty; suffice to say that when it became available it would save laboratories a fortune on manpower. I knew that if our company wasn’t to be left behind it would need to be first in offering to sell this technology. With Mike’s help I drew up my proposal to gain an exclusive contract with the manufacturer, along with other ideas I had for growth and change.’
‘It all sounds very impressive, Val.’
‘I thought it was, and Mike did too. He promised to say nothing to his company about the new technology until I’d secured the position, and I thought my promotion was in the bag. Oh, Betty, I was such a fool, a complete and utter fool. I loved Mike, trusted him without realising the cost. I thought he loved me too, but instead he betrayed me.’
‘What did he do?’
‘He told his company about the new microplate,–who would be supplying it–and got the contract for his firm ahead of mine. Not only that, he was indiscreet and word got round that he got the information from me. When it reached my employer’s ears, I was thrown out of my company. I lost my job, my career–and it was all down to Mike Freeman.’
‘My God, if you ask me the man should be shot.’
‘Yes, and I felt like shooting him too, especially when he gained promotion whilst I couldn’t get another decent job in the industry. I even applied to be a sales rep again but, as I said, word had got out that I wasn’t to be trusted. That and the fact that I was now considered too old. At the time I was nearly forty–three. I’m forty–five now.’
‘But that isn’t old,’ Betty protested.
‘Yes, well, that’s how I was seen within the industry. Mike Freeman destroyed my reputation, took away all that I had worked towards. I loved my job and was good at it, but it all counts for nothing now.’
‘Huh, men. If you ask me, they’re all the same.’
‘Oh dear, have you been treated badly too?’ Val asked, trying not to look too eager as she took another sip of lemonade.
‘Yes, but I…I’m afraid I can’t bear to talk about it.’
‘Did it happen recently?’
‘No, it was four years ago, but I still can’t get over it.’
‘I’m so sorry,’ Val said, and seeing that Betty’s eyes were full of tears she added, ‘I can see that you don’t want to talk about it, but if you ever change your mind and want to get it off your chest, I’ll be a sympathetic ear.’
‘Thanks, Val.’
Betty had clammed up, and hiding her disappointment, Val rose to her feet. ‘Well, thanks for listening to me, Betty. It certainly helped, but it’s time I did a bit of housework. If you aren’t busy tomorrow, perhaps you’d like to join me for tea again.’
‘I’d love to, and I could make a nice Victoria sponge.’
‘Lovely,’ Val said, waking Treacle from his snooze. She’d hoped that confiding in Betty would encourage her to do the same, but it hadn’t worked, and her expression was now grim as she made her way downstairs. Talking about Mike Freeman had opened up the wounds, so once inside her flat she went straight to her drinks cabinet to pour a large glass of sherry. She would have to ring Paula and Cheryl to report her progress, but there was little to tell them. Val gulped down her drink then poured another, consoling herself with the thought that there was always tomorrow. Maybe with a little more urging, Betty would finally tell her story.
Betty awoke on Sunday morning to find that her thoughts immediately went to Val. It was wonderful to have a friend now, someone who trusted her enough to share a confidence. Betty’s heart went out to Val. She’d been treated so badly, losing a job she loved, and her bitterness was obvious. She’s as angry as me, Betty thought. Richard had ruined her life too, but she had never been able to talk about it–to confide in anyone. They would think her a complete fool, an idiot for allowing it, and her shame kept her silent. Yet now, as the memories returned to plague her, Betty found she wanted to get it off her chest, to unburden the pain that remained like a hard rock in her chest. Val had been betrayed too; she’d understand, and maybe, just maybe, if she could bring herself to talk about it, the pain would ease.
Once she’d towelled herself dry, Betty dressed, and after eating a light breakfast she set about making the Victoria sponge, pleased to see when she took it from the oven that the two halves had risen perfectly. The kitchenette was stifling and it had been daft to bake a cake, especially with the cost of the ingredients, but as she sandwiched the two halves together with jam and butter icing, just looking at it made her mouth water.
The rest of the day seemed to drag as Betty halfheartedly did a bit of dusting, but living alone and naturally tidy, there was little to keep her occupied. She read for a while, glad when at last it was time to get changed.
With the skirt on, Betty inspected the cut. It was simple, elegant, and would be easy to copy. If possible, she’d save a little money to buy some off–cuts of material and her old treadle sewing machine would come in useful yet again. With the blue blouse tucked in, Betty stood back, twisting this way and that as she looked in the mirror. Yes, it did look nice, and she was so grateful that Val had helped her to choose it. When she picked up her shoes, Betty frowned. They were scuffed, worn down at the heels and would spoil her appearance, but as they were the only pair that didn’t have holes in the soles, she would have to wear them.
Cake in hand, Betty went downstairs and was pleased to see Val’s smile of pleasure as she opened the door. ‘Hello, Val. I hope I’m not too early.’
‘Of course you aren’t and it’s lovely to see you. That sponge looks wonderful, and you do too. Come on in. I’ve been feeling a bit fed up so it’s nice to have a bit of company.’
Betty stepped inside, balancing the cake as Treacle rushed over to jump up at her legs. ‘Hello, boy,’ she said, handing the sponge to Val before reaching down to pat him.
‘Sit down, Betty. I’ve made some sandwiches and I’ve only got to fill the teapot.’
Betty sank onto the sofa and Treacle leapt up beside her to lay his head on her knee. She stroked him for a while, but then Val returned with the tray.
‘He’s certainly taken to you,’ she said. ‘Get down now, Treacle, there’s a good boy.’ Val was ignored, and she sighed. ‘As you can see, there’s little improvement in his behaviour. I’m sorry, Betty, he’s probably creasing your skirt–and it looks so nice too.’
‘It’s all right, I don’t mind.’
Val laid down the tray. ‘You pour the tea while I find that necklace.’
Betty eased Treacle to one side, feeling relaxed and at home as she picked up the teapot. She had only just finished pouring when Val returned, holding a strand of blue and pale cream beads.
‘Here, try them on,’ she said.
Betty slipped them over her head. ‘They’re lovely, but are you sure you don’t need them?’
‘I haven’t worn them for a long time and they look perfect on you.’
‘Thanks, Val. I’ll treasure them.’
Val took a seat and then held out a plate of ham sandwiches. ‘Tuck in and then we can have a piece of your sponge.’
For a while they munched companionably and after eating a slice of cake each, Betty sat back, replete. Treacle remained beside her. Absent–mindedly stroking him again, Betty said, ‘I’ve been thinking about what you told me yesterday, Val, and I still can’t get over how badly you were treated.’
‘I was an idiot, but thanks for listening.’
‘You’re not alone in that. I’ve been an idiot too.’
‘You can’t have been as daft as me.’
‘Oh, I was. My marriage ended four years ago, but as it lays the foundation for what happened to me, I suppose I should tell you a little of my background. You see, I grew up in Surrey, on the outskirts of a small village. My father worked on a farm and we lived quietly in a tiny cottage. We never travelled, other than the occasional trip to our nearest market town, and I suppose compared to a sophisticated woman like you, I’m a country bumpkin.’
‘Rubbish. You’re a lovely woman, warm and generous, and there’s nothing wrong with being brought up in the country.’