Desperate Measures Read Online Free PDF Page A

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