Capital Sins Page 4

  'You don't like men?'

  Tilly raised her face in astonishment. 'I didn't say that! If I didn't like 'em, I wouldn't bother with them. Stands to reason, don't it, girl!' She blew a cloud of smoke into the air thoughtfully, then asked Connie how old she was.

  'Nearly seventeen.'

  'You look older, and act older. too. I'd've taken you for twenty easily.' Tilly stuck the end of her cigarette to her bottom lip and let it hang there impressively. 'Do you like working in a stuffy old office then?'

  'So far. Why?'

  Tilly shrugged. 'I dunno ... you look like you could be a model. or something glamorous like that instead. You're nice looking. you know.'

  Connie inclined her head modestly. 'I think you're pretty, too.' she returned generously.

  'I'm OK with me make-up on.' Tilly tossed her head and her short, curly black hair, cut Afro-style. bobbed around as she did so. She craned forward and looked into the mirror, tossing her head again. She paused to admire the effect.

  'I'm so-so without me war paint,' she went on. 'But I gotta take care of my figure. I adore bread. cakes. sweats an' snuds. butt can so easily go from a size ten to a twelve. You're about a size twelve. ain't you? Yeah, thought so, but you’re taller'n me with it. You know,' she kneeled on the bed and looked at Connie excitedly, 'what with your long blonde hair and fair skin, and me being so dark, we wouldn't arf look good together when we go out. Sorta set each other off, like.'

  Connie's lips twitched. 'Where did you have in mind?'

  'Well. you weren't gonna stay in this hole every naight. you? Wasn't you thinking of goin out to find some fun?' She sat back on her haunches. face earnest. 'Listen. most evenings I'm at the Topaz, but I could get you in fer nothing if you wanted. On my nights off we could go out, to the flicks, a dance, anywhere. How about it. Connie?'

  They arranged that Connie would go to the Topaz the following Saturday night, Tilly assuring her that she would introduce her to some 'real, nice gents' if that's what she wanted.

  As warned, Connie found working at Jessop's very demanding but, thanks to Sheila, who had taken her under a protective wing, she coped without getting into a muddle. Samuel Jessop seemed to drift in and out of the office at unusual times, but his presence didn't bother her, although occasionally she'd look up to find his eyes on her. Connie worked directly for Sheila and had little to do with him, except making the occasional cup of coffee for him. She marvelled that such a forbidding-looking man could even smile, yet she often heard him laughing with Sheila in the sanctuary of his own rooms.

  Connie found the Topaz Club a real eye-opener. Tilly hadn't been able to be with her for long, but that didn't stop Connie's enjoyment.

  With her first week's pay, she bought the dress that she'd worn to the club. She'd piled her hair on top of her head, and felt extremely elegant with the results. Heads had turned to watch the cool, blonde beauty go by in the streets and more than one man sighed for a smile from her curved lips. Connie took her beauty for granted almost and would have been surprised to learn just how many pulses quickened at the sight of her slender body and long legs.

  A dozen or more men had asked her to dance during the evening at the Topaz, and one or two she had really liked the look of, youngish, well-dressed and loaded with money.

  The money and drink had flowed freely that night and, to her last partner of the evening, one Philip Dual, Connie had given her telephone number. He had seemed just the sort of young man of whom a mother would approve. She wasn't like Tilly, merely out for a good time, contented with the present, oblivious of the future – not Connie. She wanted to love and be loved, and didn't care a hoot if Tilly called it idealistic nonsense. Marriage to her meant security and stability and, while not against having a good time, she knew what she wanted from life. She wanted permanency and a home, and on meeting Philip Dual, impulsive Connie was already making plans for the future. There was no reason why she shouldn't be optimistic – life was rosy. She'd made two good friends who'd filled a need in her emptiness: Tilly was the mate whom Connie shared fun with, while Sheila was the good influence, an understanding person in whom Connie found an interested listener. Before long she had told Sheila all about herself – later, about her meeting with Philip Dual. They had stopped for a break. Sheila had been busy arranging meetings and was looking through her diary to make sure that engagements didn't overlap.

  'You're doing well for a newcomer,' Sheila had grinned as she spooned sugar into her cup.

  Connie knew she wasn't referring to her work. She nibbled at her biscuit. 'Tilly knows all the places. You'll have to meet her, Sheila.'

  'She sounds fascinating, but don't let her exert too much pressure on you, love. She sounds the domineering type, and I wouldn't like to think she influences you the wrong way.'

  'She doesn't much,' Connie replied earnestly. 'We're friendly, but not much alike. Our tastes differ, and Tilly's the last person who wants to get permanently hitched. She says that life's more exciting being with many men and she's not the type of girl to settle down with one man in marriage for a long time.'

  'It must be good to be in that sort of position where one can choose,' Sheila sighed, almost to herself.

  Connie had heard the quiet comment and looked up quickly, her face sympathetic. 'Haven't you got a steady, then?' she asked, somewhat shyly, as if fearing to sound too nosey, but Sheila didn't seem to mind the question.

  'No. I'm not pretty like you, to be able to pick and choose with whom I go out. Oh. I meet men socially now and again, but it's more or less a question of being content with those who show an interest in me, not the other way around.'"She gave a laugh, as if it were of no consequence, but Connie wasn't going to stand for that resigned attitude.

  'You ought not to underestimate yourself,' she said accusingly, defending Sheila to herself. 'You're charming and ... and nice, and there must be men around who prefer those qualities to just a pretty face.'

  'You're a sweet kid, but you mustn't feel guilty about me just because you find it so easy to meet men.' Smiling, she added: 'You've hardly settled in, and already you're my champion.'

  Connie reddened as she drank her coffee. 'Well, I like you, Sheila,' she said defensively. 'You've been very kind to me, and don't mind listening when I go on and on about myself all the time. It must be borin sometimes, yet still you offer me advice, and you've even bothered to go out shopping with me to help choose clothes.' She laughed but her face told that she was sincere when she added, 'I tend to think of you as a big sister, Sheila. I... I hope you don't mind... '

  'Of course not, I'm flattered but,' she glanced at her watch, 'even so, chattering away to each other like this won't get the work done, and I've got a tight schedule today.'

  They resumed their respective jobs and for the next hour or so neither spoke, intent on their work. When the telephone rang, Sheila, who was nearer, picked up the receiver. She listened for a moment and then wagged her head at Connie.

  'For you,' Sheila said, her eyes twinkling, 'A Mr Philip Dual.'

  'How on earth did he get my office number?' Connie wondered aloud, but took the phone.

  'Hello? Philip?'

  The voice said it was.

  'How did you get my number here?'

  There was a chuckle. 'I called your home and some woman answered ... '

  'Mrs Withers?'

  'Whoever she was, she got all nosey when I asked for your number, so I just told her I was your dentist and had to speak to Miss Sands about her appointment for X-rays today.'

  'Oh, Philip,' Connie laughed. 'Anyway, what's so important that you couldn't wait until tonight to phone me?'

  'Couldn't wait, baby. Since I met you I haven't been able to stop thinking about the angel with the violet eyes. When can I see you again?'

  'Well, I don't know... '

  '... Sure you do.'

  'Okay, what about next Sunday?'

  'Can't wait until then, baby,' his voice said carressingly. 'Tonight's better if you've nothi
ng to do.'

  'All right, tonight, if you're so insistent.'

  'Pick you up at your place?'

  'God, no, it's such a dump and, besides, I don't know if my landlady will let you set foot inside the door.'

  'She will.' His manner was confident. 'If she's a woman, she will!'

  Connie smiled at his arrogance but wasn't put off by it. On the contrary, she liked a man to have confidence.

  'Eight o'clock suit you?' he was asking now.

  'Fine with me.'

  'Great. And wear something slinky for me, baby.'

  As she replaced the phone in its cradle, she looked up to find Sheila's eyes on hers questioningly.

  'You didn't need my help, Connie. It sounds as if you're doing beautifully on your own.'

  'He was eager so I was practically home and dry already.'

  'What's your Mr Dual like?' Sheila asked interestedly as she stacked papers into a file.

  'Tall, fantastically handsome, about twenty-seven, and well off.'

  'Lucky you. What else do you know?'

  Connie shrugged. 'Not much – yet – but I'll get around to that.'

  'You watch out for yourself, these eager wolf types can be hard to handle sometimes.'

  Connie shrugged her shoulders again in reply, then handed Sheila some phone messages she had taken earlier.

  'A couple for Mr Jessop and, oh yes ... some man called from Frankfurt ... had to get in touch with him urgently. I didn't know what to tell him since you weren't in then. Isn't Mr Jessop coming in today?'

  Sheila made a face. 'Maybe later, but, if an important call like this comes through and I'm not in and Mr Jessop isn't around, or in the building, you can always try contacting him at his apartment. You've got the number, and it's up to you to decide whether it's imperative enough to warrant disturbing him at his home.'

  Connie assumed a thoughtful expression as she rested her elbows on her desk. 'He's a funny sort of guy, Mr Jessop, isn't he?'

  Sheila's eyebrows raised. 'In what way?'

  'I dunno,' she said casually. 'He's very moody. I mean, I would've thought, if I hadn't met him that is, that being the boss of a place like this he'd be different.'

  'How so?' Sheila perched on the edge of the desk and looked down at Connie in amusement.

  'I'd pictured a man who shouted a lot ... no, don't smile ... somebody much more er, booming and loud. He acts like he's shy. Even when he asks me to do something for him, which doesn't happen often, he does it as if he's sorry for asking, for having bothered me at all. Hell, he's the chief, he could say anything and act in whatever way he fancies... but he doesn't act in that way at all ... '

  'He hardly ever raises his voice,' Sheila explained. 'He's a very self-controlled man. Sometimes I think it's better to shout rather than keep everything inside, but that is Samuel Jessop for you. The nearest I've ever seen him to becoming angry was when one of our people made a foolish mistake ... he went white around the mouth but didn't actually... ' She searched for the right expression.

  '... Flip his lid,' Connie put in helpfully. 'Even so I think he's a bit of a misery. How can you stand being with him so much? It'd drive me up the wall in no time if I had to work with him all hours as you do.'

  'I don't mind,' Sheila said lightly.

  'Huh.' Connie was unconvinced. 'I've tried to, but I can't figure him out. A man like him, who's got everything, should be on top of the world – in my book anyway. Still, l suppose he's got a lot on his mind right now, what with rumours of a slump or whatever it's called on the way. But I can't help wondering what makes Mr Jessop tick.'

  'Sometimes I wish I understood him better myself,' Sheila said. so faintly Connie didn't hear.

  'He's not married, is he?' asked Connie, unable to drop such an interesting subject, even if Sheila looked as if she wanted to. 'What's the matter with him – don't tell me he prefers the company of men?' She meant it as a joke, but Sheila's face froze, making Connie regret she'd spoken.

  'He's been out with some of the most famous and beautiful women in this country.' Sheila replied in frosty accents. 'Have you finished typing those letters yet?'

  Connie swallowed the rebuke and said no more about Samuel Jessop, yet wondered what she'd said that had upset Sheila like that. Honestly, people could be so touchy!

  At lunch Connie, and some other girls with whom she'd become friendly, took sandwiches to a nearby park, then Connie went off to make an extravagant purchase, the 'slinky' dress that Philip Dual had said he wanted her to wear. Everything she saw seemed terribly expensive but with the loan from petty cash and the money the matron had given her – to be used in emergencies – Connie reckoned she'd be able to afford a reasonably-priced dress. She found a small boutique off the main road, and wandered around inside, getting more disillusioned and discouraged at the shoddy way some of the clothes were made although their prices were exorbitant, before her eyes alighted on a pale-blue, floor-length dress made in a material that shimmered as the lights caught its sheen. For once, the cost wasn't grossly inflated.

  'I'll try this one on, if I may,' she informed the elderly woman assistant.

  'The fitting room is through here. Miss,' she was told.

  When the velvet curtains had swished together behind her, Connie gazed rapturously at what she knew was a bargain, before unzipping her skirt. A grey head popped around the curtains and stared at Connie as she pulled off her sweater.

  'Need any help?' the face offered, while Connie patted her hair back into place.

  'Perhaps you could just help me do myself up,' Connie said, as she stepped into the dress and began struggling with the fastener.

  Aid was duly given, then the girl stepped back to get a better view.

  'There's a long mirror just outside,' the assistant suggested.

  Connie followed the woman, treading carefully and holding the skirt up high. At the mirror, she paused to see.

  'It could've been made for you, Miss,' the assistant said with honest enthusiasm.

  Connie knew it wasn't just sales patter. The dress fitted her small bust and hips like a second skin, flaring out gently below her knees. The blue of the dress made her eyes a dark violet and her skin appeared even whiter. The neckline plunged halfway down her breasts and, in contrast to the sexy neckline, the sleeves were tiny puffs on her shoulders. She stared at herself entranced. The bodice was tight, making her waist tiny, the effect of which was enhanced by the plunging neckline which exaggerated the size of her breasts under the tight material. Connie hardly dared breathe in case she should burst out of it, but there was no mistaking the fact that it suited her. She had always hoped to wear such a dress, and now she could own one, and be admired in it by the man of her dreams. She almost blushed at her thoughts and turned aside.

  'How do I look?'

  The assistant raised her eyes from Connie's toes which were peeping out from under the hem, up past trim thighs and narrow waist, up beyond the girl's gently rounded breasts and expanse of creamy chest, to a face surrounded by a tumbling mane of curly gold hair. Connie's lips were parted excitedly as she waited for the reaction.

  'Like a dream,' was the reply.

  Later, as they went over to the cashier's desk, the assistant asked:

  'Shall I have it boxed-up for you, Miss?'

  'No, thanks, I want to show it to a friend at work. It'll be OK in a carrier.'

  Clutching the bag under her arm, Connie returned to Jessop House. Sheila Delaney had excellent dress sense and Connie wanted her opinion. Connie loved the style but wasn't sure whether the neckline would be considered too daring for good taste; and she didn't want to look cheap or vulgar, especially if Philip was going to take her out somewhere classy. Still, Sheila would be honest about the gown, Connie reflected, as the lift rose to the top floor. She was one of the most unaffected and genuine people Connie had ever met and could be counted on to be truthful, whereas Tilly, had Connie asked her for her opinion, might very well have said that she looked revoltingly tarty,
just because she didn't.

  However, Sheila wasn't in and the girl supposed that she had probably popped out for a snack. Jessop's door was shut but anyway Connie didn't reckon that Sheila was in there, and she couldn't hear any sounds from within. In her own office, Connie laid the carrier bag reverently on a chair, and started on her work. Soon she had finished typing the minutes of a meeting and had started on an agenda, her eyes all the while sneaking from her shorthand pad to the chair. She was sure that Sheila, wherever she had gone, wouldn't be long since there were no appointments jotted in her diary until later that afternoon. At last, unable to resist the temptation any longer, Connie shook out the dress. There was a closet in a corner of the room with a mirror attached to the inside of the door. It was quite a long mirror and Connie would be able to see for herself again just how she looked if she slipped on the dress.

  With her mouth stretched into a wide smile as she imagined what Sheila would say when she walked in and saw what she'd bought, Connie undressed quickly.

  It was sunny outside yet the office seemed chilly as Connie flung her clothes on to a chair and pulled the dress over her head. Her long nails nipped at the zipper, then she groaned in dismay as it caught fast. She twisted this way and that, getting hot and bothered, but couldn't budge it. Then, as she heard footsteps outside, she guessed Sheila had returned and was about to call out when the door opened and in walked Samuel Jessop.

  'What have we here?' he said slowly, surveying her as if it were the first time they had met.

  She grasped the top of the dress against her chest to stop it from falling and her mouth opened in a large 'o'.

  'What are you doing, Miss Sands?' Jessop went on, his brows meeting at the centre. 'I come to ask you to find me an important file and find you in the throes of dressing-up, or is it dressing down?'

  She felt like a complete idiot. 'I ... I just bought it, Mr Jessop,' she stammered. 'I thought you were Miss Delaney and I wanted to show the dress to her.'