‘I told you, I’m busy.’
‘Fair enough,’ he said, but then moved closer, leaning over as though to kiss her.
She reared back, the cage swaying and rattling, her eyes frantically looking round. There was no one in sight, no one to help her–the street empty, dark and foreboding. ‘Get away from me. If you come any closer, I’ll scream.’
‘Leave it out, Paula, I ain’t gonna touch you. Charlie said you’d be safe with me, and you are.’
There was reassurance in Keith’s voice, along with a sympathetic look in his eyes and, horrified, Paula said, ‘He told you. Charlie told you.’
‘He didn’t tell me anything, but from your reaction it doesn’t take a genius to work it out. Somebody scared you, maybe hurt you, and if I get my hands on him I’ll ring his bleedin’ neck.’
‘Oh, Keith…’
‘Go on, go indoors. I’ll stay here until you’re safely inside.’
‘Th-thanks.’
‘You’re welcome. And Paula, not all men are monsters.’
Paula nodded, and then turning she went to her front door, putting the cage down while finding her key. With trembling hands she opened the lock, managed to give Keith a small wave, then picked up the cage again before stepping indoors.
She heard the car door close, the engine start, and then slowly went upstairs. Keith had been nice, kind, but after what she’d been through was it any surprise that she’d overreacted? If she’d allowed him to kiss her, it wouldn’t have stopped there. Like Ian Parker, he’d have wanted more, and at that thought she shivered with fear.
In her room, Paula set the cage on a small table before lifting the cloth. She bent to look through the bars and, as though he could understand every word, she spoke gently to Charlie, reassuring both the bird and herself. ‘There, you’re safe now. I’m safe too.’
The budgie remained on the bottom of the cage and, worried, Paula hurried to fill his seed and water containers. She spoke to him the whole time, until at last, though he still didn’t make a sound, he at least climbed the bars to sit on his perch.
Paula grinned with relief. ‘There, that’s better. I know you’ll miss Charlie, and I will too, but I’ll look after you. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine,’ and with a chuckle she added, ‘Anyway, you should consider yourself lucky. You’re the only male that’s ever gonna get into me bedroom.’
Nothing went as expected for the next two weeks. Cheryl’s plans to find a house and sort out a mortgage went on hold as she went down with a severe bout of flu. Betty had succumbed too and, though she protested, Val insisted on looking after her, calling in before she went to work and again every evening.
When Anne rang to say she was coming over, Betty had to tell her to stay away. She was already fearful that she’d infect Val; the fewer people she came into contact with, the better. God, she felt awful. Every muscle, every bone in her body seemed to ache, and when she tried to sit up in bed, her head swam. Her temperature fluctuated from feeling cold and shivery to hot and sweaty, and the last thing she could face was food. Val cajoled her to eat soup, and she managed a few spoonfuls, but alone all day, she mostly slept.
Slowly Betty recovered, and at last she was up in the living room when Val came to her flat on Sunday.
‘Paula’s been on the telephone this morning. She’s worried about you.’
‘I still feel a bit weak, but I’m a lot better now. Have you heard from Cheryl?’
‘Yes and, like you, she’s over the worst of it.’
‘That’s good, and thank goodness you didn’t catch it.’
‘I’m fine, but to be on the safe side I’ve told Paula to stay away until next weekend.’
‘Oh, Val, we’re so behind with the plan now. It’s already the end of November.’
‘Don’t worry. There’s little to do. Paula might need a few reminders, but with the delay it’ll be fresh in her mind.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘Have you heard from your son?’
‘Yes, he’s coming to see me next weekend, as is Anne.’
‘In that case we’ll have to make sure we keep Paula out of sight.’
‘They never stay long, so as long as she comes over in the afternoon we’ll be in the clear. I’ve missed her, and Cheryl.’
‘Yes, me too, but no doubt once Cheryl is fully recovered, she’ll be busy looking for a house.’
Betty found she was struggling to keep her eyes open. ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she said tiredly.
‘I think you should go back to bed.’
‘But I’ve only been up for a couple of hours.’
‘I think it’s enough for one day. Go on, have a lie down. I’ll pop up again later.’
Too tired to argue, Betty nodded. This bout of flu had drained her of any energy and, though over the worst of it, she felt like an old, old lady as she climbed into bed. She was aware of Val leaving, but that was all before her eyes closed in sleep.
Cheryl was feeling mean as she tried to read the local paper. Paula had rung to see how she was; as she had done with Val, Cheryl had told her a little white lie. She had indeed gone down with the flu, but unlike Betty had recovered earlier. It was just that she wanted a break from all of them, a chance to gather her thoughts, ones that despite the flu had gone around and around in her head.
After going to the bank, she’d been delighted to find that there wouldn’t be any problem in getting a mortgage. She’d been worried that they’d turn down a single woman’s application, but was told that as more and more professional women were being granted loans, it wouldn’t be a problem. Once again Cheryl’s eyes scanned the newspaper. She had yet to find the right property, but that wasn’t the only thing that was worrying her. How was Paula going to react to her change of plans? She would still offer her a home, but it would be totally unlike the one she’d portrayed. Would Paula come on board? Would she want to help? It wouldn’t be easy; they’d be living in a totally different environment and not everyone was suited to the task.
Cheryl flung the paper aside. She had two houses to view after work tomorrow, one in Streatham, the other Wimbledon, both of them out of the borough. The first sounded promising, the price good, but it would need a lot of work. The other had more bedrooms, was more viable, but needed work too. The price was on the steep side, and though able to get a mortgage, until it was established, would she be able to keep up the payments? Cheryl picked up her pad, again going over her figures. Maybe she was mad in trying to set this up, but once the idea had taken root it had refused to go away. She would be her own boss, doing something she loved and knew she was good at.
Val wrapped a thick scarf around her neck. It was freezing outside, but Treacle needed a walk, so pulling on leather gloves she braved the outdoors. The park looked bleak, yet there was still beauty to be found. Many trees had dropped their leaves, yet some still clung in varying shades of brown and gold, some tinged deep red. Children were playing, gathering heaps of fallen leaves into piles before jumping into them, their giggles making Val smile too. Treacle ran to join them, yapping with excitement as leaves flew into the air for him to chase.
It was too cold to sit and linger, so after a while Val called Treacle, her pace brisk as she walked the paths. Betty’s plan was a relatively simple one, with little for her to think about, so Val had begun to concentrate on Mike Freeman. She wanted to discredit him, to see him thrown out of the industry, and, like her, to find no way back. Every plan she’d come up with so far needed someone on the inside, but she had lost contact with all old colleagues. Val grimaced. Even if she had still been in touch with them, it wouldn’t help. None would risk their jobs and she couldn’t blame them for that.
Val cursed her lack of forethought. She should have come up with her own plan before recruiting. If she’d done that, she might have found someone who had the necessary qualifications to gain a job within the industry. It was too late now. Finding another recruit could take forever, especially one with qualifications and the same need for revenge. She’d have to find another way, another plan. After Betty’s plan had been completed, she’d get them all on to it and, surely, between them, they’d come up with something. In the meantime she’d have to be patient: celebrate Christmas and Paula’s birthday. It would be a wonderful day, and Betty would be over the moon that she had managed to bring her husband down at last.
By Saturday, Betty had recovered all but her appetite, and was looking forward to seeing Anne and John. It was already December, and in just over two weeks Richard would be holding his annual party. Anne would be in Cornwall, but Betty still didn’t know if John and Ulrika would be there. When she’d spoken to her son on the telephone, his reply had been evasive, so today would be her chance to ask him face to face.
Anne was the first to arrive, her expression anxious as Betty opened the door. ‘Are you all right now, Mum?’
‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘At your age you have to be careful. I was worried it would turn into pneumonia.’
‘I’m not
that
old,’ Betty protested. ‘Come on, sit by the fire and I’ll make us both a drink. I’ve missed you.’
‘Mum, I wanted to come to see you, but you wouldn’t have it,’ Anne pointed out as she took a seat. ‘You sounded really rough, and I was relieved to hear you had someone to keep an eye on you.’
‘Val has been a good friend.’
‘Is that the woman who lives downstairs?’
‘Yes, and I don’t know what I’d have done without her.’ Betty was about to go into the kitchen when there was another knock on the door. ‘That’ll be John,’ she said, her smile wide as she let her son in.
‘Hello, Mum.’
‘Hello, darling, and where’s Ulrika?’
‘I wasn’t sure you’d be completely over the flu. Rather than risk her catching it, I left her at home.’
‘Hello,’ Anne said as he flopped onto the sofa. ‘How are the wedding plans progressing?’
‘Please, not you too. I’m sick of hearing about the wedding–it’s driving me mad. Even when we go to see Dad, it’s all she and Mel talk about. Yap, yap, yap–from what shade to choose for bridesmaids’ dresses, to what colour Mel should wear so she won’t clash with them. It’s the same when she rings you. I wish I hadn’t agreed to a big wedding now. It would have been much simpler to pop into a registry office.’
‘Leave it out, John. It isn’t that bad…Anyway, all girls want their wedding day to be perfect.’
Betty listened to this exchange and felt a flare of anger. Ulrika had never rung her to discuss wedding plans or to ask her opinion on anything. It seemed that privilege had gone to Mel. Once again she felt excluded. Oh, it wasn’t fair, it really wasn’t. John was
her
son–
she
was the groom’s mother–not Mel! She marched into the kitchen, filled the kettle and then slammed it on the cooker.
‘What’s up, Mum?’
Betty spun round to see John in the kitchen doorway. ‘Doesn’t it occur to you,
or
Ulrika, that
I
am your mother?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘How come it’s Mel that’s helping Ulrika with the arrangements? As I said,
I’m
your mother so why hasn’t she come to me?’
A look of understanding crossed John’s face. ‘Oh, I see. You’re feeling left out.’
‘Of course I am, and can you blame me?’
‘Look, Mum, we didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that with Anne and Mel being younger, I think Ulrika finds them on the same wavelength, that’s all.’
Betty huffed, turning her back on John as she spooned tea leaves into the pot. Only moments later she felt his arms around her waist, his voice in her ear.
‘Come on, don’t be like this. In future, I promise Ulrika will keep you up to date on any arrangements.’
‘Don’t bother. It’s a bit late now and, anyway, I’m not even sure I’ll come to the wedding.’
‘What! But why?’
‘It seems I won’t be needed,’ Betty snapped, as she pulled away from John’s arms. Once started she found herself unable to stop, her words pouring out in a tirade of pent–up emotions. ‘It’s obvious that I’ve been relegated, with Mel playing my part.
She’ll
be in the front pew with your father, so what about me? As the cast–off wife, will I have to sit at the back of the church? And what about photographs? No doubt I’ll be on the sidelines, with Mel and your father by your side in family shots. Then there’s the reception. Instead of sitting at the head table with you and Ulrika, once again Mel and your father will take those seats while I’m tucked away somewhere out of sight.’
‘Stop it, Mum. This is silly. Of course you won’t be hidden away. You’re my mother and I want you there.’
Betty remained rigid with anger, but then Anne appeared.
‘I heard every word and, like John, I think you’re overreacting, Mum.’
It was too much for Betty. Pushing past them she fled the kitchenette to run to her bedroom. With a sob she threw herself onto the bed. Yes, she was being unreasonable and she’d upset John, but hadn’t been able to stop the words that tumbled from her mouth. How could they understand that to her this was the final straw? Mel already had her husband and her house–and now she felt the woman had stolen the only thing she had left. Her children.
‘Please, I can’t bear to see you like this,’ John begged as he sat on the side of the bed.
‘Come on, Mum, don’t cry,’ Anne urged.
Betty fought to pull herself together, but her emotions were all over the place. Maybe the flu had weakened her more than she realised, but she was unable to stop sobbing. ‘I…I’m sorry,’ she gasped.
John gathered her into his arms. ‘It’s all right, Mum. I should’ve realised you’d be feeling left out but, as I said, it won’t happen again.’
Betty clung to her son, finding strength in his arms. He was no longer her little boy, the one who needed protecting. He was a man now–had grown away from her, but if she carried on like this, she’d lose him completely. She’d behaved like a child and a wave of shame washed over her. Betty pulled away from her son, somehow managing a watery smile. ‘Oh dear, it was silly to get so upset. I don’t know what came over me. I’m fine now. Come on, let’s go back to the living room.’
‘Are you sure?’ Anne asked worriedly.
‘Yes,’ Betty insisted as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, only to be struck by a wave of dizziness.
‘Anne, quick, give me a hand!’
John’s voice sounded distant and Betty was vaguely aware of being pushed gently back onto the pillows.
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘I don’t know, John, but perhaps she isn’t completely over the flu. Look at her, she’s lost more weight. I bet she hasn’t been eating properly.’
Betty’s head had cleared, and opening her eyes she managed to say weakly, ‘I’m not deaf you know.’
‘Oh, Mum, you gave us a fright,’ Anne said. ‘Maybe we should call a doctor.’
‘No, no, don’t do that. I’m fine, really I am, but you’re right, I haven’t been eating much lately.’
‘Well, you’re going to eat now,’ Anne said, her bossy nature coming to the fore as she added, ‘Stay there, and don’t get up. I’m going to make you something.’
Feeling better, Betty smiled ruefully. ‘Oops, John, now I really do feel like a naughty child. Darling, don’t look so worried. The flu took away my appetite, that’s all.’
‘In that case you need building up again, but to be on the safe side, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a checkup.’
‘There’s no need. I’ll be fine.’
It seemed her reassurances didn’t satisfy John and he continued to nag, but was thankfully interrupted when Anne came back to the bedroom.
‘I’ve made you a sandwich and a cup of tea.’
With the tray laid across her lap, Betty managed to eat half the sandwich. ‘Thank you, darling, that was lovely.’
‘You can manage more than that. Come on, eat the other half,’ John urged.
With both of them looking so concerned, Betty knew she’d have to try, and managed to force down the rest of the sandwich. ‘There, are you satisfied?’
‘Yes,’ Anne said, ‘but drink your tea.’
Betty did as she was told, then laid her cup down. ‘You can take the tray away. I feel fine now and I’m getting up.’
‘You don’t look fine to me. You’re as thin as a rake,’ Anne protested.
‘I wish. I may have lost a few pounds but, let’s face it, I had them to spare.’
John at last smiled, whilst Anne glanced at her watch. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting Tony, but I don’t like leaving you like this.’