Capital Sins (11 page)

After a few
more pages had been filled in with spidery blackness, Sheila leant back in her
chair and stretched her legs, the beginnings of cramp making her calves ache.
She flexed her writing hand,
then
rubbed the back of
her neck, trying to ease the strain she felt there also. Opening her cigarette
case, she shook one out and lit it, looking around reflectively. Her gaze
stopped at Samuel Jessop's door. Jessop hadn't been in for a couple of days.
having
been invited to attend a function in Paris.

As she
thought of him, Sheila smiled, but the smile soon left her face as her mind
wandered to the woman who had accompanied him on the visit. She was just
another in the long line of vivacious and beautiful women that Jessop was known
to date, and Sheila had met this newest one at a cocktail party where Jessop
had introduced them.

Looking at
her then, Sheila had wondered how long she would last, although she noticed
that Sam had hardly been able to take his eyes off his new girl friend. Hardly
surprising really, Sheila thought moodily now, as she recalled the superb face
that had turned to her in greeting. Sam liked beautiful women; and what more in
a woman could he want?
she
wondered, puffing on her
cigarette, sending grey-blue coils into the air to disappear into the shadows.
She had been tiny, that woman, well-proportioned and graceful, with a lively
wit and grace which had charmed many at that cocktail party. And that adoration
on that fragile face of hers, as she had smiled up at her escort, had only
increased in Sheila a sense of her own plainness, and helplessness. It appeared
futile, and yet, although Jessop and the woman had flown to Paris together, he
had phoned Sheila a while back to inform her that he would be returning tonight
instead of a few days later as first intended. When she had enquired politely
after his companion, Jessop had told her he was coming back alone, that she
would be staying in France with friends for another week. A suspicion had
formed in Sheila's mind, one that she quenched rapidly, not wanting it to
remain and turn into a fear that, however many women he appeared with in
public, in private and in reality, he was homosexual. What then of her yearning
desires? What would she do if she ever found out that she could no longer live
in hope? No, it was preposterous.
The idea unthinkable.

Even with
her mind in
a turmoil
, her thoughts tormenting her,
Sheila resumed her work, smoking heavily, until she had eventually finished.

Yawning,
she packed the documents into a file, fetched her coat and scarf, and wished as
she glanced out of the window, that she had thought to bring an umbrella. The
rain was now teeming down and, as she hurried out into the street, an icy spray
soaked her from head to foot. Shivering, Sheila huddled into her lightweight
coat and sloshed through the puddles, hugging the file against her chest. She
passed a bar and, for a second, was tempted to go in, join the bright lights
and comforting presence of human beings. Why not, she thought, I've nothing
better to do. But the sight of a mob of youths around the juke box halted her
and, averting her head, she walked quickly by. She tightened the belt around
her middle and hunched her shoulders, trying to escape from the pelting
downpour.

A cold drip
splashed against her coat collar and slid uncomfortably down the back of her
neck, and she pulled up the collar as she walked.
her
now sodden coat hem dripping dismally against her knees. Her fashionable,
open-toed sandals weren't made for walking around in wet weather, and already
Sheila could feel that her tights were damply clinging to her legs, and her
toes were squelching in her shoes.

A foggy,
yellow light materialised and
glimmered
a 'For Hire'
sign and, before the taxi passed her, impulsively Sheila flung out her arm to
hail it. As it slowed to a stop at the kerb it occurred to her that she hadn't
need
a cab, having almost walked to her flat.
as
she always did for the exercise since she didn't live
far. She could have borne the rain for another few
minutes
...

The taxi
driver had wound down' his window and was waiting for her. Did J mean to go to
Connie's?
she
mused as she paddled towards him. Sure,
why not? I could help style the kid's hair and we could have a pleasant natter
together over a mug of hot chocolate or something.

'Where to, Lady?'

She stared
at the driver for a second, perplexed, her expression vacant.

'
Er
, Emerald Mansions,
Hanberry
Drive, please.'

As she sank
back into the seat, there was a faint smile on her lips. In her mind she was
going over the words she would say to Samuel Jessop when he saw her, and prayed
he would be home. I was just passing, she would say nonchalantly...

'... I was
just passing,' Sheila explained as Jessop opened the front door.

He looked
her up and down in surprise. 'What the devil ... you're soaked, girl!'

'A little,'
she murmured, staring at the smoking jacket he was wearing over his pyjamas and
wondering whether she was welcomed, or whether he wasn't alone. Oh, lord, she
hadn't thought of that, but it turned out he was by himself.

'You'd
better come in and dry off, Sheila,' he suggested, shutting the door behind
her. 'What do you mean you were just passing? Where've you been with a file
under your arm at this time of night?'

She
followed him through into the salon, dripping water on to his Persian rug.

'I've just
come from the office.' she said in a rush, 'getting these notes ready for you
tomorrow. I thought you'd want to look them over and get acquainted with the
details.'

'I could've
picked them up at the office on the way in the morning, but I appreciate the
thought. It was very conscientious of you to think of it.
but
you really shouldn't work overtime so often, you're looking tired.'

She was
looking a little haggard, too, but he was kind enough not to mention it.

She handed
over the file. 'I'd better be on my way now,' she said brightly.

'You're
here now and might just as well stay for a while.'

She sneezed
and shivered suddenly.

'You've
gone and caught a chill.' he went on in a stern voice. 'No umbrella? Look,
don't stand there with your teeth chattering.' He became solicitous. 'Get that
wet coat off and come and sit over here. 'I'll get you a drink. What'll you
have?'

She smiled'
at him apologetically. 'I wouldn't mind a cup of tea. Sam.'

'Later.
Right now, I rather think a stiff brandy would be more suitable.'

She watched
him as he strode over to a large and well-stocked bar.

'You know,
this is the first time I've been to your home... '

'Yes? I
hadn't realised I was supposed to invite my friends formally but, in any case,
it was an oversight on my part. I'd never realised you'd wanted to come. What
do you think of my bachelor pad?'

'Hardly what I would have termed as a pad.
It's very grand.'

'Penthouses
usually are,' he replied blandly as he brought her drink over.

She stared
about her. The room was enormous. The ceiling was so
lofty,
she almost had to crane her neck to see the chandelier high above.

The walls
were covered in a light brown and cream hessian, and spotlighted were some good
landscapes. The furniture was antique for the most part, although there were
one or two ultra- modem pieces; he had mixed modern and antique but the effect
was entirely natural and well-balanced. Rich, oatmeal-coloured curtains draped
picture windows and the carpet was a honey-beige where four steps descended to a
sunken pit in the room, squared by a continuous low settee in white leather
with four glass coffee tables at each corner. A large, white fur rug was the
focal point at the centre of this hollow in the floor. The touches of amber and
warm orange, from scattered cushions, and rust-coloured shades on the lamps
gave the room a cosy homeliness that might otherwise have been lacking, and
Sheila could feel herself relaxing. She had been apprehensive at first, having
intruded uninvited, but the welcoming room, Sam's mellow manner, and the
extremely good brandy, still a generous measure in the balloon-shaped glass,
were all helping to achieve comfort. And then she sneezed again.

'My old
Napoleon doesn't seem to be helping much,' Jessop said, 'but no wonder, when your
dress is wringing wet, too!'

'A mite
damp, perhaps, but it'll dry,' she said faintly.

'
On
you?
No, you're too useful to the organisation... and to me to lose you to
'flu for even a week. Off with it, girl!'

She blinked
at him.

'Come on,
I'll give you a robe to wear,' he went on firmly. 'If you just sling your dress
over one of the hot rails in the bathroom, it'll be dry in no time, and you're
not to take chances!'

Meekly,
Sheila trailed after him as he led the way, and from the airing cupboard he
helped himself to a fluffy, snowy-white bathrobe.

'It'll be a
bit large on you, but it doesn't matter. No one's going to see you.'

'Thank
you,' she managed to say, before he had pulled the door shut behind him.

Clutching
the robe to her, Sheila gazed around at her surroundings; never before had she
seen such a huge bathroom. Copper and fawn tiles were sheer walls around her,
and it was the first time she had actually seen a marble, sunken bath close to.

'What are
you doing in there?' she heard him call. 'I've topped up your drink for you.'

'I'll be
right out,' she replied, and hurriedly stripped off her clothes. She slung the
damp garments over hot rails and tried to dry her hair as well as she could
with a towel before slipping on the robe. She didn't look to see what she
looked like in '1 mirror, knowing she must resemble a drowned rat. With bare
feet, she padded back into the salon.

As she
entered, he looked at her hair.

'Do you
want a hair dryer?' he asked kindly.

She made a
face at him. 'I don't think it matters, Sam. As you said,
there's
only you to see what I look like when my hair starts to frizz.'

As he
handed her
her
glass, he noticed her unshod feet.
'I'll get you a pair of slippers...
' But
she lifted
her hand in protest.

'Really,
it's not necessary. Besides, it's lovely and warm in here and the
carpet's
very thick.'

She sank
down on to a luxurious Chesterfield sofa and wet her lips with the brandy. She
grimaced when her stomach rumbled.

He had
heard. 'Haven't you eaten?' Samuel asked.

'I forgot
to.'

'Silly
child,' he chided. 'No wonder you're so skinny. And you're drinking on an empty
stomach. You're usually more level-headed around the office, Sheila.'

'I appear
to be a lot of things at work.'

He took
that without comment. 'Come and fix yourself something.'

'Have you
eaten?' she asked as they stood up.

'On the plane.
I'd fix you something myself, only I don't know where she keeps
everything.'

'She?'
Her right eyebrow rose.

'My woman,'
he answered, looking amused. 'Housekeeper, that is. She cleans up after me and
cooks my meals when I need them. The kitchen's her domain, but I'm sure we can
rustle you up some food somewhere.'

'I'm being
a
nuisance,'Sheila
said hesitantly.

'Not at
all,' he assured her, and they went into the kitchen which, like the rest of his
suite, was like stepping into a dream and would, to most women, be just as
unattainable.

As she
peeled potatoes, stuck a steak under the grill and boiled salted water for
vegetables, Samuel perched on a stool at the breakfast bar and lit a cigarette.

'What time
did you get back?' Sheila asked, making conversation.

'About' seven.
I was going to do some work before bed.'

Sheila
looked at him sheepishly. 'I'm sorry. I really should have realised that I
might be disturbing you
... '

He chuckled
suddenly. 'You're disturbing me quite a bit with that robe flapping open like
that.'

Flustered,
Sheila stared down at herself. Her breasts were almost completely exposed.
Hastily, she pulled the gown tight and secured the belt again. After a second,
she had regained her composure and put the potatoes on to boil, and lowered the
light under the pan of vegetables.

'Did you
enjoy the flight?' she said coolly, after a pause.

He was
still grinning when he replied. 'Very much, thanks. And did anything
interesting happen while I was away?'