Desperate Measures. Kitty Neale

      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