Capital Sins (20 page)

She entered
the office. There was no sign of Sheila and disappointment welled up. God, how
she needed to talk to a friendly
face
!Heels
sinking into the soft carpet, she flung herself on to the couch and rested her
head against the back of the soft leather, staring up at the ceiling. She made
as if to struggle to her feet when she suddenly heard Samuel Jessop's deep
voice, and blinked rapidly as his tall figure loomed up from his room.

'Miss
Sands, what are you doing here? Miss Delaney informed me you weren't feeling
well and weren't coming in today.'

He stopped
by the couch and motioned for her to remain

seated
.

'I... I
just wanted to see
Sheila,
I thought she'd be back.'

'She went
on somewhere else, not likely to be back until later. Do you want to leave a
message with me?'

Connie
shook her head,
then
combed back her hair with her
fingers. She reached for her bag and made to look as if she were going.

'It doesn't
matter, Mr Jessop. It can wait until I see her tonight at the flat.'

'Very well.'

She thought
he would go, but he continued to stand where he was, looking down on her as if
he had unfinished business on his mind. She wished he would leave: staring up
at him was giving her a crick in the neck. .

'Is there
anything I can do for you?' He asked after a short pause.

She gazed
up at him, the unusual softness and kindness apparent in his voice taking her
by surprise. Suddenly everything was too much for her.

She
couldn't hold back the threatening tears any longer and they welled up in her
eyes and streamed down her face. Connie rested her forehead on her clenched
fist and lowered her face, vainly trying to stifle her weeping. She felt the
seat beside her sag as Jessop lowered his weight on to it. Little choking
sounds escaped from her throat as she attempted to regain control, and then
dimly she saw a large white handkerchief fluttering in front of her.

'Here,'
Jessop said gruffly.

Connie
accepted it, and applied the white linen to her watery eyes. His sea-coloured
eyes were studying her intently all the while.

'Is it
because you're ill, or is there something else worrying you?' he asked gently.

'I'm sorry,
Mr Jessop, bursting into tears like that. You've probably got enough worries of
your own as it is.'

He looked
at her accusingly. 'I'm always interested in the welfare of my staff,
particularly when they work in the same office.'

'Yes, I
suppose so, and I must talk to someone,' she said in a rush. 'I really don't
know where to begin, but the truth of the matter is, I ... I'm pregnant.'

He drew in
a sharp breath. 'And you're upset because the boy won't marry you, is that it?'

'Oh, no!
I wouldn't marry him now even if I knew where he was
... '

'Like that,
eh?' He jerked his chin to the side, giving emphasis to the question.

Connie
twisted the handkerchief between her fingers and stared down at the floor.

'I only met
him once, he's just a seaman. We ... we got drunk and ... it just happened. I
didn't want it to, not like that.' Her shoulders drooped dejectedly.

He rested
his big hand on Connie's shoulders, sorry for the girl and yet, at the same
time, feeling a twinge of envy for the sailor, even while he knew it was an
unreasonable attitude. Just to be able to impregnate a girl so easily! He
rubbed his hand over his mouth before saying:

'And what
are your plans ... Constance, isn't it?'

She nodded.
'Get rid of it, I guess.'

'But
... '

'I don't
see what else I can do! I don't want a baby now, especially this one, and even
if I kept it, I couldn't afford to feed the both of us. I don't want to get
into that kind of rut, not when I want so much more from life.'

Her voice
rose shrill¥. 'It's already growing in my belly and I want to pluck it out
before it takes over.' Her eyes darkened. 'It's not your problem, Mr Jessop,'
she said dully, 'it's kind of you to listen, but I have to deal with this
myself.'

He rose to
his feet. 'If ... if you need anything, want any help, Constance, come and tell
me.
will
you?' he said awkwardly. She smiled at him
gratefully, and waited until he had returned to his own office before she
quietly let herself out. Samuel Jessop sat at his big desk for a long while,
thinking about her.

Sheila
listened to Connie's news without interrupting, no surprise on her face.

'Well?' she
said finally.

Connie
rested her elbows on the table. She had been watching a programme on television
when Sheila had returned to the flat, but it was ignored now.

'What do
you think?'

Sheila
strove to sound reasonable. 'It's got to be your decision, love. It's your
baby.'

Connie hit
the table with the palm of her hand. 'Damn the blasted thing! I didn't want it,
and I'm not bloody well having it! I'm going to have an abortion as quickly as
possible, be rid of it once and for all!'

'Are you
absolutely sure that's what you want to do?' Sheila said slowly, making Connie
turn her head in surprise and bewilderment. 'I mean,' she added. '
don't
make any hasty decisions without thinking about it
hard first.'

'I'm not
sure what I should do. I must do what's right for me. Help me, Sheila!'

There was a
pause, and then: 'Have the baby, Connie,' Sheila said suddenly. 'You may regret
an abortion later. I knew a woman who had one
years
.
ago
, and she's still emotionally disturbed. I wouldn't like
to see you suffer the same way, and you're too tender-hearted not to care.'

'Maybe this
woman didn't get herself pregnant under the same circumstances that I did!'
Connie flicked ash from her cigarette angrily. 'Why should I have to bear this
lump for nine stinking months and then give it away?'

'Then
don't.
Keep
it, if that's the only thing bothering
you.'

'It's not
the only thing bothering me!'

'It's like
murder
... '

'It's not
your bloody baby!' She calmed down when she saw Sheila's face crumple, and said
in a quieter voice, 'I thought you said this was my decision.'

'You said
you wanted my advice.'

'You're
just making it more difficult for me.' She slumped forwards wearily. 'What's
the point of going through with it, Sheila?'

Sheila made
a vague movement with her hands.

'It's just
that ... if it was me, I know I couldn't go through with an abortion. I was
brought up as a Catholic and, although I don't bother with religion any more,
some of it rubbed off, and their policy about life and death still makes sense
to me.'

She screwed
up her forehead, groping for words to explain herself. 'I believe in
contraception, it's only sensible and practical, but once a baby has been
conceived, it's alive; a human being, with a right to life and survival, the
same as you and I! It has a right to exist, and however small, it's already
formed in your body ... and all I know is, I couldn't kill another human being,
or have one killed, it would always be on my conscience.'

'You're not
exactly making this easy for me,' Connie said, but a wry smile twisted her
lips. 'I don't believe in God, but I've got feelings and emotions, same as
everyone else. It's not easy for me to make a decision as important as this,
that's why I need your advice. At the moment, I'm kind of being tom. Half of me
hates
the idea of this unborn child; the other half
tells me to be merciful, that it wasn't this ... this thing's fault that it's
in me at all.' She looked across the table, and her eyes were beseeching when
she added, 'How will I manage, cope as time goes by? I'm scared, Sheila, I
don't know anything about babies, pregnancies ... motherhood.'

'You don't
have to know,' Sheila said gently. 'It comes to all of us instinctively. Most
women feel fine right up until the last few weeks. You can even continue
working for maybe six to seven more months if you like, at the very most,
depending on how you feel physically.'

Connie
shuddered and sat back in her chair, clasping her hands around the back of her
neck. 'I'm really frightened,' she said. 'Frightened of being alone, having to
do all this by myself.'

'Don't be,
I'll be here to help you.'

Connie took
a deep breath. 'OK, you've talked me into it. I'll keep the wretched thing.'

'Good. Good
girl.'

'Are ...
are you sure I'm doing the right thing?'

Sheila
stared into the wide eyes,
then
nodded.
'The only thing.'

Two months
passed, then three, and Connie was constantly feeling unwell with heartburn,
backache, and anaemia. At first she went into work as often as she could, but
the travelling sapped her strength as time went by. She knew the age of
chivalry was dead and buried when one morning she fainted in the crowded and
stuffy train, and no one stood up to give her a seat, or ask how she was, but
merely stared at her inscrutably as if she were a junkie, drunk, or even a
leper, and peered even closer at their newspapers, pretending she wasn't there.
Sometimes she even felt too weak to stir from her bed in the mornings and
Sheila would have to make her excuses to Samuel Jessop so that she could stay
with Connie.

Connie felt
she could have tolerated morning sickness, but it got so that she felt ill most
of the time. Whenever she ate, she promptly
sicked
it
up, even vomited occasionally when she drank. She was frightened to taste food
after a while and didn't believe Sheila's assurances that it wouldn't last.
Connie raged around the apartment until even Sheila's saintly patience was
almost sapped.

'This is
all your
fault!' Connie shrieked at her. 'If I'd had an
abortion I wouldn't be going through all this awful misery now! Why am I being
punished?
You and your holier-than-thou ideas about life and
mercy.
It was all right for you to talk, you weren't the one giving
birth to the little brat and now,
dammit
, it's too
late even to have the thing butchered; no decent doctor would consider it now.
So you can congratulate yourself; it's all thanks to you that I've got to have
it even when I don't want it. And I don't, I tell you, I bloody well don't!'

Sheila
tried to soothe her, but Connie could not be diverted from her rage.

'I feel
like throwing myself off the nearest cliff, you hear me! Even dying would be better
than all
this .
this
revolting, mucky sickness!'

'It's sure
to pass soon
... '

'Yeah!
In
another six flaming months, it'll pass. Oh, God, why did I ever listen to you?
Why did I let you talk me into keeping it?'

Sheila had
left for work when Connie next went to the clinic for a check-up. Samuel Jessop
was sitting on the couch in the main office, reading through some papers, when
the door burst open and Connie staggered in. He stared up in annoyance at the
rude interruption,
then
got to his feet when he saw
who it was.

'Where's
Sheila?' Connie cried when she saw him, all respect forgotten in her
desperation.

Jessop
walked over to her, taking her arm. 'She's popped out for half an hour.' He
observed the girl's wild eyes and unkempt appearance, and wondered if perhaps
she was becoming a little unbalanced. 'How are you feeling, Constance?' he
asked kindly. 'Do you think you'll be well enough soon to come back to us?'

She pulled
away from him so sharply he almost staggered backwards.

'It's not
likely,' she hissed between her teeth. 'The good doctor told me I ought to take
things easy, put my feet up and all that. Told me that I'm not strong enough to
travel on the underground each
day, that
practically
everything would be too much of a strain for me from now on! What do you think
of that, Mr Jessop,
sir!
' She glared at him, hands on
hips.

He
shrugged, not understanding her rage. 'That's too bad,' he said easily. 'I
suppose Sheila will just have to find a temporary replacement for you until
you're feeling up to it, or until after you've had the child.'

'Child!
Child!' she echoed, sarcastically imitating him, her mouth sneering. 'I'm not
having any child!'

For a
second he looked mystified. Then his face cleared. He frowned at her.
'Constance, you're too far gone to be thinking of anything like... '
he
stopped, appalled, as she suddenly burst into hysterical
laughter.