‘I’m not an invalid, dear. I had the flu, that’s all. There’s no need to stay.’
‘Well, if you’re sure.’
‘I am. Now off you go,’ Betty urged.
‘Promise you’ll eat more.’
‘I promise, but don’t blame me if I pile the weight back on.’
‘I can stay for another half–hour,’ John said, ‘but then I’ll have to dash off too.’
Betty didn’t mind–in fact for the first time she was anxious for them to leave. Paula would be waiting downstairs and with so much to remind her about Richard, time was running short. Anne bent over the bed to kiss her goodbye, once again urging her to look after herself, and then with a wave she was gone.
Betty leaned back on the pillows, raising the subject at last. ‘John, I’m spending Christmas with friends. Have you anything planned?’
‘Nothing much. With this wedding costing an arm and a leg, our Christmas will be a quiet one.’
‘Are you going to your father’s annual party?’
With his head down, he mumbled, ‘Err…err, I’m not sure.’
‘You should go. Ulrika would enjoy it.’
He looked up now, eyes rounded with surprise. ‘Wouldn’t it upset you?’
‘Why should it? You’ve let bygones be bygones with your father now, and I’ve accepted that.’
‘You were upset enough about being left out of the wedding plans.’
‘I don’t know what came over me. I overreacted, and I’m sorry.’
‘Once I’ve spoken to Ulrika, like me, you’ll be sick of hearing about the blasted wedding.’
‘I’m sure I won’t,’ Betty said, then urging, ‘Go to your father’s party, darling, but if you get the chance, do pop over to see me at some point during the Christmas holidays.’
‘All right, I’ll go to Dad’s on Christmas Eve, and how about we come to see you on Boxing Day?’
‘Lovely,’ Betty said, then yawning to feign tiredness, ‘It’s been lovely to see you, darling.’
Taking the hint, he said, ‘Why don’t you have a little nap, Mum? I know you said you’re over the flu, but it’s taken a lot out of you.’
‘I won’t argue with that.’
John leaned forward, giving her another kiss on the cheek. ‘Bye for now, but I’ll ring you later to see how you are.’
‘Bye, darling.’
When Betty heard the front door close behind her son, she sighed with relief. It was just as she hoped. John was going to his father’s party, and once he heard what Paula had to say, it would change everything.
‘Morning, Paula, how’s things?’ Keith asked as she walked up to his machine.
‘Fine thanks.’
‘How’s the budgie?’
Paula smiled. Since Keith had given her a lift home weeks ago, he’d never mentioned what happened, but always asked after the bird. ‘He’s fine, but a noisy bugger now that he’s settled. He’s even worse if I play music–I reckon he tries to join in.’
‘Are you sure he’s not a canary?’
‘I’m sure. He’s blue, not yellow.’
‘I know, I’m only joking. Have you heard from Charlie yet?’
‘No, but I expect he’s still on board.’
‘Yeah, and after the skinful of booze he had at the going–away party, he’s probably still suffering. You should’ve come, Paula. It was a right laugh.’
‘Pubs ain’t my scene.’
‘So you said. But if you don’t like pubs, dancing, or anything else by the sound of it, what
do
you get up to in your spare time?’
With a shrug, Paula said, ‘I meet me mates, listen to music, things like that…And before you ask me yet again, I ain’t going out with you.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ve given up now. Anyway, I rather like the look of that new girl on Pete’s machine.’
‘Good luck, but I don’t fancy your chances,’ she told him whilst refusing to acknowledge a twinge of jealousy.
‘Why not?’
‘You’ll find out,’ and grinning from ear to ear she climbed onto her stool.
Keith started the machine and once again the daily grind began. With so much to occupy her mind, Paula was hardly aware of the noise as once again she tried to assimilate all the stuff Betty had tried to drum into her about her husband. Paula knew that if she couldn’t convince them, if she slipped up, Betty’s plan would fail, and with only eight days to go the responsibility hung over her head like a dark cloud. When it came to putting Ian Parker away, they had all risked so much for her. She’d had little part to play in Cheryl’s plan, but this time the major role was hers. What if it all went wrong? What if she couldn’t pull it off?
‘Here, Paula, what makes you think I won’t have a chance with that new girl?’
‘What? Sorry, I was miles away.’
Keith’s smile was wide. ‘Dreaming about me, were you?’
‘No I sodding well wasn’t. Now bugger off and leave me in peace.’
‘All right, all right,’ he said, holding both hands up in surrender. ‘I’ll go and chat up Lucy then.’
With her train of thought now lost, Paula continued to feed paper into the rollers, but was unable to resist glancing at Keith as he walked up to the new girl. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but soon the look on Keith’s face was a picture. When he marched away, Paula bit on her lower lip, trying not to roar with laughter, yet unable to hold back a chortle.
‘Yeah, go on, but instead of having a good laugh, you could have warned me,’ Keith said indignantly.
‘Warned you about what?’
‘That she prefers women and makes no secret of it.’ He scratched his head, perplexed, as once again he glanced at the pretty, dark–haired woman. ‘Bloody hell, what a waste. You’d stand more chance with her than I do.’
‘Never mind, Keith, you can’t win ’em all.’
‘Here, come to think of it, I’ve seen you sitting with her in the canteen. Is that it? Are you another one like her? Is that why you keep turning me down?’
The smile left Paula’s face. She knew he was only joking, and she liked Keith, but this was a joke too far. ‘Who I sit with, and why, is none of your flaming business. I like Lucy a lot, so stick that in your pipe and smoke it.’
‘Huh, I should have guessed. I was daft enough to think you were off men because you’ve been given a bad time. What an idiot I’ve been,’ Keith growled, shaking his head as he stormed off.
Paula was livid. She wasn’t a lesbian, but as far as she was concerned, Keith could think what he damn well liked. Yeah, in fact it would ensure that he left her alone, and that suited her just fine.
Betty was getting excited. Eight days to go before Richard got his comeuppance and she couldn’t wait. She’d been back at work for over a week now, and between jobs had written copious lists of extra things to tell Paula. Of course most would probably be a waste of time, but she wanted to ensure that every question thrown, every attempt to trip Paula up, would fail.
If everything worked to plan it would be perfect, and once it was over she could start thinking about her wedding outfit. True to his word, John had made sure she was now kept up to date with the arrangements. Ulrika had rung twice, and they had begun to speak easily, but a final colour had yet to be decided for the bridesmaids’ dresses, though the leading contender so far was her own suggestion of pale apricot.
Betty stopped to look at herself in the hall mirror, determined not to put weight back on. She wanted to find an outfit that was stylish, sophisticated, and one that would be guaranteed to turn Richard’s head. Val was sure to help, and there’d be no more perms. Instead she was going for a younger–looking cut and even a rinse to cover her grey. With makeup, a manicure and the perfect hat, Richard would see a new woman. Oh, she couldn’t wait to see his face.
The house was, as usual, silent, and Betty was surprised that her employer hadn’t returned to London for the winter season. There’d been no instructions to prepare the house, no need to remove dust covers, or to air the beds, and it was like working in a ghost house. If her employer stopped coming to London, would he keep the house on? Would she still have a job or would she be obsolete? Oh, what did it matter? She had already decided to make changes in the New Year, and once she’d found another job, she would hand in her notice.
Val too was at work, but as she listened to Mr Warriner her face took on a stunned expression. ‘You’re going to retire?’ she parroted.
‘Yes, Val, but don’t worry, it won’t be until the end of January so this will give you plenty of time to find another position. I will, of course, give you a glowing reference.’
‘Oh…oh dear, this has come as a bit of a shock. You…you don’t seem old enough to retire.’
‘I’m not far off sixty, and it’s something my wife and I have been discussing for some time. We’d like to travel, to see a bit of the world before we become too decrepit to manage it.’
Val saw that his face had saddened and she blurted out, ‘You’re not ill, are you?’
‘I’m fine, but my wife has rheumatoid arthritis. At the moment she’s still mobile, but there’ll come a time when she won’t be fit to travel.’
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘Yes, well, as I was saying, I’ll be closing the business at the end of January. I’ve been in touch with some of my clients, and for the others I’ve drafted a letter to recommend another solicitor. Will you get them typed and posted as soon as possible?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Oh, and Val, I’m happy for you to take time off to attend interviews.’
‘Thank you.’
Mr Warriner returned to his office. Taking up the draft letter, Val found that the words blurred before her eyes. She’d been dissatisfied with her job and was often bored but, now that she was losing it, Val knew it was unlikely that she’d find another boss as nice as Mr Warriner. It wasn’t the best–paid job in the world, her earnings a fraction of what they used to be, but she doubted she’d find anything better. Yes, and that was thanks to Mike Freeman. Oh, he’d suffer, she’d make sure he suffered, and then he’d know how it felt to have his qualifications and ideas count for nothing.
Cheryl’s mind was elsewhere as she went about her work on the ward. She’d found the perfect property, but that was only the start. Her mortgage application was in, along with her business plan, and they were just awaiting approval. The bank manager hadn’t foreseen a problem, so once they were cleared she’d be able to go ahead with the next stage. It had been hard to fob off Paula, to say that she was still looking for a house, but Cheryl didn’t want to reveal her plans until everything was in place. Her stomach lurched at the enormity of what she was about to do, but along with that came a shiver of excitement. The list of things to do was endless. She’d need help, but finding just the right people wasn’t going to be easy. Cheryl hoped that Paula would be one of them, but even if she wasn’t interested, with the basement flat she could still offer her a home, and one that was nicer than her poky bedsit.
At last Cheryl’s shift was over and she went back to her quarters on weary feet. She felt on the brink of a new life, a fresh start, but was still tied to Betty and Val. Thankfully she wasn’t involved in Betty’s plan, but there was still Val’s and she dreaded the thought of playing a part.
With a heavy sigh Cheryl knew she couldn’t go back on her promise. She
was
involved, would have to stay that way until Betty and Val’s plans were complete. It was thanks to the others that she had her money back, with the opportunity now to fulfil her dream. There’d be no such opportunity for Betty. She might gain some satisfaction from seeing her husband suffer, but there’d be no financial gain. It would be the same for Val, and deep down Cheryl still wished they’d let the past go instead of being intent on revenge.
Paula had spent the evening with Betty, but was now glad to be home, poky bedsit or not. Her head was aching from so much information, most of which she felt unnecessary. When Val came up to Betty’s flat, Paula had been sad to hear she was going to lose her job, and with the need to take her mind off it, Val was given the task of asking her questions about Betty’s husband. Paula managed a smile now. She had answered most of them without hesitation, and had received high praise, but now all she wanted to do was to climb into bed and forget about Richard Grayson for a while.
With her nightdress on she went over to the budgie, the bird cocking his head as he looked at her. ‘Time for bed, Charlie,’ she told him, placing a cover over the cage. She’d become so fond of him, his cheerful chirps greeting her when she came home every day, and had taken to letting him out every evening, gratified that he was now happy to perch on her outstretched finger.
Yawning widely, Paula got into bed. As she laid her head on the pillow, her thoughts returned to Val. It was rotten that she had to find a new job, but at least she’d find a decent one. Unlike me, Paula thought. All she’d known was one factory after another, one mindless job after another, and all had bored her to tears. With another wide yawn, she closed her eyes, soon fast asleep.
When the alarm sounded, Paula fumbled to switch if off, unable to believe it was morning. It felt as if she’d only just gone to sleep before it was time to get up again and she blinked blearily as she threw back the blankets. It was still dark outside and, shivering, she threw on a dressing gown before hurrying along the landing to the bathroom. Another day at work. Another day of feeding sheet after sheet of paper into a machine. Gawd, what a life, Paula thought as she cleaned her teeth. Still, at least she had the occasional laugh now, if not with Keith then with the other girls, and it helped to break up the day.
Paula returned to her room, dressed, and then went over to the cage, pulling off the cover. ‘Mornin’, Charlie.’
No! No! Oh God, he was on the bottom of the cage and even as she frantically opened the little door to reach for him, Paula knew he was dead. Her hands closed round his tiny form. ‘Oh, Charlie, Charlie,’ she cried, tears now rolling down her cheeks as she held his fragile little body in the palm of her hand.
Paula’s eyes were red–rimmed from crying as she walked up to Keith’s machine.
‘Watcha, love,’ he said cheerily, but then his eyes narrowed. ‘You’re late. What’s up?’
She hadn’t wanted to come to work, had sat on her bed for ages, the budgie still in the palm of her hand whilst her fingers stroked his stiff little body. It was only the thought of remaining on her own all day that had forced her out, and after gently placing Charlie in a small box, she had fled her room.
With watery eyes she looked at Keith. ‘It’s Charlie. He…he’s dead.’
‘What? Oh blimey, the poor old sod. No wonder you look upset,’ and as Paula began to cry in earnest he frantically scanned the room until he saw the person he was looking for. ‘Joyce!’ he yelled.
The forewoman came bustling over and, taking one look at Paula, she said, ‘Oh, dear, what’s the matter?’
It was Keith who answered. ‘She’s just heard that Charlie’s dead. I think you should get her out of here for a while.’
Joyce’s hand clutched her heart. ‘No, not Charlie! I can’t believe it. When did it happen, Paula?’
‘It…it must have been during the night. I found him dead this morning.’
Joyce frowned. ‘But I thought he was on his way to New Zealand.’
‘No, no, I’m talking about his budgie.’
‘Oh for fuck’s sake, Paula,’ Keith exploded.
‘There’s no need for that language,’ Joyce protested, but then there was a titter and soon both she and Keith were doubled over with mirth. ‘A budgie!’ Joyce gasped. ‘And like me, you thought Paula was talking about Charlie Riley.’
‘Yeah, well, he’s called Charlie too, and with the state she’s in, it’s no surprise I made a mistake. Paula, you’re a right dozy dollop. You really had me going for a minute.’
Paula turned and fled, bursting through the machine–room doors, on through the loading bay and out into the fresh air. It was freezing, but she was unaware of the cold as tears rained down her cheeks. He wasn’t
just
a budgie. He was Charlie’s budgie and she’d promised to take care of him. A hand touched her shoulder and she turned to find the forewoman by her side.
‘Paula, I need you on the machine. We can’t stop production for a budgie. I’m sorry we laughed at you, but if you can’t do your work you’ll have to go home and forfeit a day’s pay.’
Paula hunched her shoulders. She didn’t want to go back to the machine room, didn’t want to face Keith’s mirth, yet couldn’t really afford to lose a day’s pay. ‘All right, I’m going back,’ she said, brushing tears from her cheeks. With a sniff, and head held high now, she walked back inside, finding to her surprise that Keith was looking shamefaced.
‘Sorry, munchkin. I shouldn’t have laughed, but you’ve got to admit it was funny.’
‘Not to me,’ she snapped, climbing onto her stool.
‘How about I make amends by taking you out tonight?’
‘Sod off.’
‘Charming, but as you’re upset I’ll let it pass. Now, are you ready to start work?’
‘Yes,’ she said, voice clipped, and for the rest of the morning she kept her head down, mindlessly feeding paper into the machine whilst Keith gave her a wide berth.
At lunch time, Paula was feeling a little better as she hurried outside to smoke a cigarette. When she was greeted by titters, it was obvious that the forewoman had told the story.
‘Blimey, Paula, when Joyce told me, I cracked up,’ Doreen said.
‘Yeah, talk about funny,’ Greta agreed. ‘Keith’s face must have been a picture. There he was, trying to console you about Charlie Riley, and all the time you were talking about his budgie.’
‘I’m glad you all find it funny, but
I
don’t.’
‘If it’d been a cat or a dog, I’d have understood,’ said Doreen. ‘We were upset when our spaniel had to be put down. But a
budgie
!’
Paula ground her cigarette underfoot, saying nothing as she spun round to head for the canteen, only to be greeted with laughter, this time from the men. She stood in the queue, flushed with embarrassment.
‘Take no notice of them,’ Lucy said as she stepped up behind Paula. ‘They’re all pigs.’
‘I suppose you’ve heard the story too?’
‘I have, but my dad keeps budgies so I can see why you were upset. If you want a replacement, I’m sure I can get you one.’
‘Thanks, but I don’t think I could face it. Charlie was special and really tame. I thought I was doing all right, that I was looking after him, but I must have done something wrong and now he’s dead.’
‘How old was he?’
‘I…I dunno.’
‘I doubt you did anything wrong. If he was passed on to you, he was probably old, that’s all.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘Yes, now come on, it’s your turn to order.’
Paula felt marginally better as she ordered a sandwich. If Lucy was right, Charlie hadn’t died from lack of care, but from old age. She paid for her food along with a cup of tea and then sat down at a vacant table. It was all right for people to laugh, but she’d grown fond of Charlie, would miss his chirpy greeting when she went home. Still, at least she wouldn’t be stuck in her bedsit for much longer, and she brightened as another thought now struck her. If Cheryl found a place with a garden they could get another pet, maybe a kitten.
Lucy pulled out a chair. ‘Mind if I join you?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Aren’t you afraid of getting tarred with the same brush?’
‘People can think what they like, and that includes Keith.’
Lucy’s eyebrows rose. ‘Oh, so he’s been making comments?’
‘Yes, but I don’t care. I wouldn’t touch him or any other bloke with a bargepole.’
‘Leave it out, Paula. I know you’re straight, so why the attitude? Have you been hurt? Is that it?’
Paula shrugged, saying dismissively, ‘Maybe.’
‘There’s plenty more fish in the sea. Take Keith, for instance. I can see he fancies you and, despite what you say, he seems a nice bloke.’
‘I’m not interested,’ Paula said, and annoyed that Lucy sounded just like Charlie Riley, she deflected the attention from herself by asking, ‘What about you? Ain’t you ever fancied men?’
‘No, but it doesn’t stop them trying. When I started work here, for the first time I decided to be upfront. I thought it would be the easiest way to keep the blokes at bay, but I’m regretting it now. It backfired, and all the women give me a wide berth.’
‘I don’t.’
‘You’re the only one who doesn’t and I’m wondering why.’
‘All the other girls talk about is men–who they fancy or their latest boyfriend–and it gets on my nerves. If they give you the cold shoulder, it’s their problem. I think it’s up to you how you live your life. You ain’t hurting anyone, so what’s the problem?’
‘I think I scare them. Take that ugly cow, Doreen. I wouldn’t fancy her in a million years, but she’s obviously terrified I’ll try it on. She must be kidding. I don’t fancy every woman I see, just as you don’t fancy every man; and anyway, I’m in a steady relationship. You should give it a try, Paula; dip your toe in the water again. As I said, Keith obviously fancies you.’
‘I don’t want a boyfriend, least of all him.’
‘That’s a shame, because I think you’re meant to be together.’
‘Leave it out! What makes you think that?’
‘I don’t know, it’s just a feeling. When you’re together I see these strange little lights bouncing between you.’
‘Now you sound weird,’ Paula protested.
‘I’ve been told I’m a bit psychic,’ Lucy said, but then grinned widely.
‘You daft cow. You had me going there for a bit,’ Paula chuckled. She finished her sandwich and gulped her tea before saying, ‘If all you’re going to talk about is Keith, I’m going outside for another fag. See you later.’
‘Yeah, see you,’ Lucy called.
With a smile still on her face, Paula walked outside to light a cigarette. Huh, lights bouncing between her and Keith. What a load of rubbish. First Charlie Riley, and now Lucy, both waxing lyrical about Keith, trying to matchmake. Why? He wasn’t that special. He wasn’t even good looking, and as for Lucy saying that they were meant to be together: bloody hell, she must be out of her mind.
Betty was waiting for Paula to arrive, and spread her arms to hug her when she opened the door. ‘Oh, love, when you rang me, I was so sorry to hear about your budgie.’
Paula returned her embrace before saying sadly, ‘I made a right fool of myself at work. Everyone had a good laugh and I felt a proper twit.’
‘Why, what happened?’
When Paula told her, Betty too had to fight laughter, but managed to stay composed. ‘Never mind. I suppose I can see why they thought you were talking about Charlie Riley but I’m sure it’ll all be forgotten by tomorrow.’
‘I hope so,’ Paula said, sniffing as she moved away from Betty’s arms.
‘Take your coat off and settle yourself down. Val will be up in a minute, but if you like we’ll forget about my husband this evening.’
‘No, I’m all right. There’s only a week to go and I want to make sure I remember everything you’ve told me.’
‘I’m sure you’ll be fine. Oh, that must be Val,’ Betty added as she went to open her door.
‘Hello,’ Val said as she stepped inside. She smiled sympathetically when she saw Paula. ‘I’m sorry to hear that you lost Charlie.’
‘It was a bit of a shock, but I feel silly now for making such a fuss.’
‘Val, any luck on the job front?’ Betty asked.
‘I don’t think there’s much point in looking until after Christmas. Most businesses, other than shops, will probably close at the weekend. I’ll make a start in the New Year.’
‘Talking about Christmas, Val, is Cheryl joining us?’
‘Yes, for dinner, but I’m not sure about overnight.’
‘Paula, are you still sleeping over?’ Betty asked.
‘Yeah, I’d love to.’
‘That’s good. I’ve started to get a few bits in: a box of Turkish delight, some dates, and I’ve made a fruitcake. It just needs icing.’
‘I’ll bring a few things. What else do you need?’
‘Val’s getting the chicken, so how about the vegetables?’
‘All right. Give me a list of what you want.’
‘It’s a shame Cheryl hasn’t found a flat or house yet,’ Val said.
‘She’s been to see loads of places,’ Paula complained, ‘but just keeps saying that none of them are right.’
Betty held her tongue. Whenever she spoke to Cheryl about her search, she found her vague, almost standoffish, and wondered if there’d been a change of heart about offering Paula a home. Secretly it was what Betty wanted, her ideal solution. There was nothing to stop her moving–nothing to stop her from finding a two–bedroom flat and, if Paula contributed towards the rent, it would be ideal for both of them.
‘Are you all right, Betty? You look miles away.’
‘Sorry, Val, I was thinking about Richard,’ Betty blustered, feeling her face turning pink at the lie. ‘I’ll make us all a drink and then we’ll make a start.’
Betty hurried to the kitchen. She would miss Val if she moved and so far hadn’t mentioned her idea. Of course, the ideal answer would be that they all lived together, all shared a home, but would Val agree? Oh stop it, she told herself. Cheryl might not have changed her mind–in fact, why should she? Yet deep down, Betty prayed that she would.