Capital Sins (3 page)

'Top it is,
then.' The lad grinned at her approvingly. 'I
ain't
seen you around here before.
You coming
to work here
then?'

'I don't
know yet,' Connie replied doubtfully, and moved aside to let some people out
and others in. 'How much higher?'

'Nearly
there, Miss.'

She stepped
out from the lift and into what appeared to Connie to be a maze. Bewildered by
all the noise and bustle, she allowed the press of people who had erupted from
the lift with her to carry her past a door. Not knowing what else to do, Connie
tapped and waited.
Nothing.
Swallowing a lump in her
throat and trying to give the impression if anyone was watching that she knew
what she was about, she knocked louder. Thankfully, she heard a voice inside
yell for her to enter.

She entered
into a typing pool, and three dozen heads seemed to stare in her direction as
she entered. Connie edged her way to the nearest head.

'Excuse
me,' she whispered with agonising self-consciousness. The head remained
lowered.

'Excuse
me!' Connie repeated louder.

'What?' The
girl removed earphones and, with her tongue, shifted the gum she was chewing to
the other side of her mouth. 'Were you talking to me?'

'Yes. Where
can I find Miss Jacks, please?'

'Who?
Wot
you
askin
'
me for? I only work here!'

Connie
began to feel desperate. 'Do you know who I could ask then?'

'Look, go
outside,
turn right along the main corridor, second left,
and try the first door on your right opposite the ladies loo.'

'Thanks,'
Connie said, hurrying out and trying to remember the directions.

To her surprise,
she arrived at the correct door, bearing a plaque inscribed 'Information'. This
time, Connie did not bother to knock but walked straight in. An elderly woman
was sitting at a desk and writing in a ledger. She smiled pleasantly as Connie
approached.

'Where
could I find Miss Jacks, please?'

'You've
found her, young lady.'

'Thank
goodness, I thought I'd got lost.' Connie looked relieved.

The woman
tut-
tutted
. 'Don't tell me some monkey has removed
the indicator again. Anyway, what can I do for you?'

'I have an
interview with Miss Delaney,' Connie explained again.

'At what
time are you expected?'

'Twenty-five
past nine.'

The woman
looked up and frowned at the clock on the wall.

'You are
ten minutes late.'

'I couldn't
help it,' was the humble apology.

'Well, for
your sake, I hope Miss Delaney will still have time to see you. She's a very
busy woman, you know.'

Connie
didn't say anything. There was really no answer she could have made.

'Well,
don't look so crestfallen,' the woman went
on,
a
little more
kindly.'I'll
buzz through to Miss
Peabody.'

It's a
joke, Connie decided, it must be.
A farce.
It's like
that game we used to play at the Home when it was someone's birthday. We would
all sit in a circle and pass a parcel around. When the music stopped, the girl
holding it would tear off as much paper as she could. There was always another
parcel underneath the wrapping, until the very end. It's like that here. I
wonder just how many more people I will have to bother before I get the honour
of meeting Miss Delaney?

'As it's
getting late, Miss Peabody will come and collect you herself to take you
through to Miss Delaney directly,' the woman said pleasantly as she replaced a
receiver on her desk and returned to her ledgers.

Less than a
minute later, Connie was following Miss Peabody down a hallway that led
unbelievably to yet another hallway. Eventually they arrived at a door on which
Miss Peabody knocked. A charming voice bade them enter. As Connie stepped into
the room, Miss Peabody disappeared (without even a curtsey towards the throne,
Connie thought wryly) and she was left alone at last with the Great One.

'Won't you
please sit down, Miss Sands.'

The woman,
or girl Connie decided on seconds thoughts, had a lovely voice.
Soft and gentle.
It had the effect of putting Connie at her
ease. She wasn't to know that Sheila Delaney's voice and charm was one of her
most powerful and valuable assets. If it could bewitch clients, it could
unruffle
a girl like Connie.

'I'll be
with you in a moment,' Sheila Delaney told her. She sorted through a stack of
files on her desk as Connie sat opposite.

'I'm very
sorry I'm late,' Connie began, but Sheila interrupted with a wave of one
graceful, white hand.

'Don't
apologise, Miss Sands. I know what it is like the first time one comes here, a
veritable madhouse.'

Connie
smiled gratefully at her consideration. She had taken an instant liking to her.
While Sheila was busy, Connie took the opportunity to look around. It was a
beautiful office.
Bright and airy, modern but cosy.
Paintings hung on a wall, skilfully arranged, something sculptured on a stand
near the curtains – how splendid it all looked, how well everything merged with
the decor.

Connie's
eyes returned to the girl opposite and found Sheila looking at her.

'You have
your written references with you, I believe.'

'Everything
you require is in here,' Connie said, unconsciously imitating the girl's
refined way of speaking. She handed Sheila the brown envelope and waited while
its contents were rapidly scanned.

Sheila
pressed the tips of her fingers together and her smile was warm when she said,
'Now, I need a bright girl that I can train myself. Should you work for me you
would have to be prepared to do a little of everything eventually. Shorthand,
typing, filing, the usual sort of chores one finds.'

After
giving Connie a short test of her typing and shorthand speeds, Sheila announced
herself satisfied and proceeded to explain the details of the work to Connie,
who listened intently, face concentrated but interested.

'Perhaps
you could tell me a little more about property developers, Miss Delaney,'
Connie said thoughtfully. 'It might help me to understand better what goes on
and what I'm expected to do. I don't know anything about this business and I
thought, that is, if you don't mind... you could perhaps run through a routine
day of someone like Mr Jessop.' She looked up shyly.

Sheila
nodded, pleased that the girl seemed interested enough. 'That's a very
intelligent idea, Miss Sands. Let's see... well, Mr Jessop might have an early
morning meeting over breakfast with his executives to discuss projects. It
could be an office block in Manchester, a shopping centre in Southampton, or
even an industrial development in Calais.' Connie looked impressed. '... I'd
probably be there taking notes which I'd later expect you to type out. In my
absence, you'd be here taking messages and holding the fort. After the meeting,
he might fly in his private plane' (she smiled at Connie's expression) 'perhaps
up north to visit some sites to see how work is progressing ... how the
building construction is getting along,' she added helpfully. Connie seemed
absorbed. 'A next move might be that he has a meeting with the local
authorities to discuss plans for the next stage of the work, and afterwards he
could be expected to fly back to attend a meeting with his bankers... '

'Is it all
work?' Connie interrupted.

Sheila
laughed. 'Well, he might throw a cocktail party later for his friends. All
these things have to be arranged, and that's where you'll come in eventually.
You'll have to help me.'

Connie
nodded, already feeling quite important.

'You'll
have to use the phone a great deal, learn who's who. A firm of chartered
surveyors may call to give details of possible new developments, or it may be
an accountant to give Mr Jessop an idea about a possible new scheme. Many
builders phone also, asking to be included in the tendering ... that is, the
building work. You must know when to be courteously
firm,
and never let on Mr Jessop's movements, take messages. He might be with his
financiers, discussing the raising of a huge loan for a number of projects to
be carried out in the course of next year, or even involved in the take-over of
another property company that might be in financial difficulties, and it's not
likely he'd be pleased at being interrupted at any of those meetings.'

'Sounds
like he goes to a great many,' Connie said innocently. Sheila grinned. 'He
does. The excitement comes in the climax, when a project is completed and he
returns to open, say, an office block, and there would be a function at which
the city's Lord Mayor, for instance, would be invited, along with a great many
other important bodies. It was only last month that Mr Jessop decided to
diversify his interests by taking over a company with a group of shops because
they had a lot of freehold assets, then had some of these shops redeveloped . .
. at the moment, we're involved in a yachting marina on the south coast.'

'How does
it work, I mean, how does it happen?'

'I'll try
to explain in simple terms. The first phase is to build the harbour, sinking
cement into the sea, almost, to create it. Then the second phase might be that
he'd build maybe two new hotels overlooking this harbour. This one's an immense
scheme, with a conference centre, entertainment facilities and squash courts to
be provided. Actually, at the moment, Mr Jessop is away visiting a casino which
he developed and, being a far-sighted individual, he's obtained part-ownership,
which is even more profitable than it sounds since it's linked to a chain of
betting shops ... but I think that's enough details for now, I don't want to
frighten you off. Do you have any more questions?'

'When could
I start?'
came
the instant response.

Sheila
laughed at her eagerness. 'No reason why you shouldn't begin right now. We can
get all the odds and ends tidied up later. Does that suit you?'

Then she
stated a salary that made the girl gasp. '... OK, but it's not for nothing, as
you may have gathered. I expect you to work hard for it.'

'Where
would I work?' Connie
asked,
thinking of the typing
pool and dreading the idea.

'There's an
intercommunicating door through here to another, smaller room which will be
your office, but you'll work in here with me at the beginning.' She stood and
held out her hand.

'We'll seal
it formally then by my welcoming you to the fold.'

That
evening, Connie lay on her bed going over the day's events. She'd even
transcribed Sheila's notes without making any mistakes. They had stopped for
coffee and biscuits around mid-morning, then Sheila had had to go out, leaving
Connie to her own devices. It seemed as if theirs was going to be a very
flexible arrangement.

Connie had
eaten lunch in the cafeteria for the staff in the basement of the building and
spoken to a few of the girls at the table. They seemed a friendly bunch and
Connie received more than one offer of help should she need it. She swapped
names with them and even got a wink from one of the messenger boys as they
passed in the corridor of the fifteenth floor.

Back in the
office, Connie had spent about an hour answering phone calls and taking
messages, when she heard the outer office door being opened. She went through
into Sheila Delaney's room, thinking it was her, and found herself confronted
by a tall man who stared back with equal surprise.

'Hello.'

She
returned the word automatically before it occurred to her to think that he had
somehow gained admittance to hallowed grounds. Collecting her wits, she
inquired politely, 'May I help you?'

'Do you
want to?'

'If I'm
able,' she said, unnerved by his reply
..
'
Er
, were you looking for Miss Delaney?'

'She's
out?'

'Yes, but
she'll be back soon. Look, maybe I could give her a message... '

'Who are
you?' the man asked curiously, ignoring her last statement.

'Constance
Sands. I work for Miss Delaney
... '

'Oh?
Since when?'

'Since today, actually.
I'm her,
er
, secretary.'

'I see.
Good idea.' With that, the stranger started to walk across the office. Alarmed,
Connie ran after him.

'You really
can't go in there, that's Mr Jessop's office! I do think you ought to wait in
reception
... '

He turned
on his heel and she almost collided with him.

'
I
am Samuel Jessop, Miss Sands. Do you think I may enter now?'

Connie
looked flustered. 'Oh, I didn't know ... I'm sorry, sir, nobody told me you'd
be coming in this afternoon.'