Desperate Measures. Kitty Neale
Betty craved friendship and companionship. It had been lovely to meet Val – lovely to be invited out to lunch. Would they become friends? Oh, she hoped so and, who knows, maybe Val would be able to give her a few tips on style.
‘Right, let’s go,’ Val said, smiling warmly as they drove off.
The sun was shining and they chatted happily as they drove over the Thames. In what felt like no time at all, they arrived at the restaurant where Val was treated like a long-lost friend.
‘Valerie, how lovely to see you,’ a dark-haired woman with a pretty French accent said. ‘How is Mr Warriner?’
‘He’s fine, Yvette, and as busy as ever.’
‘I’m not surprised. He’s a wonderful solicitor. Now let me find you a nice table,’ she said, leading them to one by the window.
Betty sat down, admiring the décor. The tables were covered with blue and white checked cloths, each with a small vase of fresh flowers in the centre. The chairs were raffia-backed, the seats in the same check material; though she had never seen a French bistro before, this was just how she would have imagined it.
Yvette handed them each a menu, saying, ‘Raymond’s special for today is daube de boeuf, but while you’re making up your mind, what can I get you to drink?’
‘Betty, would you like red or white wine?’ Val asked.
‘I’m afraid I don’t drink. Would it be possible to have a glass of tonic water?’
‘Of course,’ Yvette said. ‘What about you, Valerie?’
‘I’ll have a glass of your house red, please.’
Yvette bustled off and when Betty picked up the menu, she baulked. ‘Oh dear, it’s all in French.’
Val smiled, ‘Don’t worry, I can more or less tell you what’s on offer. As you can see, it isn’t overly expensive,’ she added.
‘How do you know the owners?’
‘When Raymond and Yvette wanted to buy this place, the solicitor I work for handled the conveyance. There were a few sticky moments, with the seller wanting to up the price at the last moment. Raymond would have paid it, but Mr Warriner convinced him to hold out and so saved him a lot of money. Raymond and Yvette seem to think that I had some input, even though I’ve told them I’m only his receptionist.’
Betty nodded, her eyes returning to the menu. ‘What’s the special that Yvette mentioned? The daube of something?’
‘Daube de boeuf. It’s a sort of beef stew,’ Val said as she too scanned the menu. ‘I’m not sure whether to have that or the poulet Basque.’
‘Sorry, the what?’
‘It’s a chicken stew with tomato and onions, but then again the quiche Lorraine is delicious too. If you want something light, it’s ideal, a sort of open tart filled with egg, ham and cheese.’
‘Yes, and as it’s the least expensive, I think I’ll have that.’
Yvette returned with the drinks and, after giving her their order, they sat back to wait. As Val smiled at her, Betty plucked up the courage to say, ‘I wish I knew how to dress like you. That outfit you’re wearing looks so elegant, but it must have cost the earth.’
‘At one time I could afford to go to all the best shops, but those days are gone. This dress would have cost the earth if it was new, but it’s actually second-hand.’
‘Really? Goodness, I used to go to the occasional jumble sale in our village hall, but I never found anything like that.’
‘It’s from a shop that sells only top-quality secondhand clothes. Finding it has been a godsend.’
‘Well I never. Mind you, even if I found it, I doubt there’d be anything to fit me.’
‘They carry a range of sizes. If you like, I’ll take you there.’
‘Would you? Oh, thanks, Val.’
‘If you’re free, we could go next Saturday?’
‘Can we make it in two weeks? I’m a bit short at the moment.’
‘Yes, that’s fine.’
Betty picked up her glass to take a sip of tonic water, unable to help wondering about Val’s past. She had at first appeared haughty, but in reality it was just the way she held herself, head high, a slight lift to her chin. Poised, Betty thought, like a model. Earlier Val had mentioned a company car, and now said that once she’d frequented the best shops. Something must have happened to change all that, but Betty didn’t have the nerve to ask what. Maybe when they got to know each other a little better Val would confide in her. But for now she smiled with appreciation as Yvette returned to place a plate in front of her. ‘It looks lovely.’
‘Yes, it does, and thank you, Yvette,’ said Val.
The two of them tucked in and Betty found the quiche Lorraine delicious. Between mouthfuls they talked about the merits of French cooking. She loved the salad dressing, and when Val told her how to make it she was determined to buy the ingredients.
In no time their plates were empty and when Yvette returned to clear them she asked, ‘Can I get you anything else, and – as I know you love it, Val – perhaps a slice of tarte tatin?’
‘Lovely, and Betty, you must have some too. It’s a sort of apple tart, French style, and I’m sure you’ll love it.’
Betty agreed to try it, and when it arrived they tucked in with relish. ‘Wonderful,’ she enthused, ‘and thanks for bringing me here, Val.’
‘You’re welcome, and anyway it’s nice not to eat alone for a change.’
Betty expected someone like Val to have a wide circle of friends or family, but it appeared that if she hadn’t been invited to tea yesterday, Val would have spent her birthday alone. Unable to resist the question, she blurted out, ‘Do you have any family?’
‘I have a few distant relatives, but I haven’t seen them in years.’
They continued to chat as they ate, Val going on to tell Betty that she had lost her parents many years ago. Betty found herself warming more and more to Val, so grateful for this budding friendship, and all too soon the meal was finished.
They split the bill, Yvette smiling warmly as she said goodbye. ‘Come again soon, Valerie.’
‘I will,’ she said, kissing the pretty French woman on both cheeks before they left.
Betty had loved the meal but, though it hadn’t been too expensive, she would still have to cut down on food for the rest of the week to cover the cost. It had been worth it, though, and lovely to be in Val’s company, but her mood lowered now they were going home. The rest of the day stretched ahead of her, followed by a lonely evening, but she brightened when Val spoke.
‘I’ll have to take Treacle for a walk, but after that why don’t you join me for a coffee?’
‘Lovely, but it’s my turn, so why don’t you come up to my flat?’
‘Yes, I’d like that,’ Val said, smiling warmly.
They continued to chat but when they arrived home and climbed out of the car, Betty saw a young woman sitting on the wall outside the entrance to the flats. She looked scruffy, pale, and anxious as she jumped to her feet, rushing to Val’s side. ‘Oh … Val … Val,’ she cried.
‘Paula, what’s wrong?’
‘I … I saw him.’
‘Come on, come in,’ Val urged, and as they stepped inside, she said, ‘Sorry, Betty. I … I’ll see you later.’
Without waiting for a reply, Val ushered the girl into her flat, the door closing swiftly behind them, leaving Betty mystified. The girl hardly looked the type