Capital Sins (7 page)

'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.'

'I see.
Well, I'd better leave you to it.' He started to back out of the room, his eyes
still riveted on her naked shoulders, when he saw her fumbling at the back of
the dress. 'Are you having difficulties?'

She
swallowed. 'Something seems to be stuck,' she blurted out, a little
hysterically at having been caught in such a situation by him, of all people.
'I can't get the blasted thing on or off.'

The
suspicion of a grin crossed his lips. 'May I help you?' he asked gallantly.

'Do you
want to?' she said before she could stop herself.

'
Touche
,' Jessop laughed, and moved forwards to her aid. 'Do
you want to be in, or out of the thing?' he asked gravely, Might just as well
go the full hog, she thought.

'In,
please.'

He began
gently to tug at the zipper and, having turned
about,
Connie watched his face in the mirror. It was set in concentration, and the
pink tip of his tongue protruded as he worked at the fastener. It was the first
time that Connie had been able to study him close up.

Now she
noticed the way his thick, dark hair curled on his forehead, which was wide
with a couple of furrows running across it. He had a square-shaped face, a
strong, pronounced jaw with a cleft at his chin – like Kirk Douglas, thought
Connie. His lips were thin but nicely shaped, matching a long, slender nose.
Although his skin was tanned (a vision of week-ends on a yacht raced through
her mind), his cheeks had a bluish tint, as if Jessop had to shave at least
twice a day to keep a growth of stubble at bay. He smelt of cologne slightly
and as Connie sniffed, trying to distinguish which expensive brand he used,
Jessop raised his eyes a fraction. Connie looked at them in the mirror and
thought to herself, 'I'd never noticed what attractive grey-green eyes he has,
like the colour of the sea.' They seemed even lighter now as the blue of her
dress was reflected in them, and when he blinked and lowered his eyes again
quickly to his task, her attention was drawn to the thick, black lashes
surrounding them.

'Be with
you in a tick,' he said gruffly, as if aware of her scrutiny.

She stood
patiently,
then
drew in a sharp intake of breath as
the tips of his fingers brushed against her skin, making her flesh tingle, and
she wondered if he had done it purposely, but decided not when, a second later,
he stepped back and his face was expressionless.

'Done,' he
said. .

Slowly,
Connie turned about to face him.

'Thank you,
Mr Jessop.'

'My
pleasure,' he returned, and studied her as she stood motionless. 'Since Miss
Delaney's not here, if I may I will express an opinion for her, it's a
most
 
delightful
dress
and you look very fetching.' She almost bobbed a curtsey but changed it to a
nod.

'Going
anywhere special after all the trouble you've taken?' he asked pleasantly.

'Nowhere in
particular,'
she
replied, her nervousness of him
ebbing but still feeling shy.

'Well,
wherever you're off to, I hope you enjoy yourself.' He turned to go.

Just then,
they heard Sheila's voice. She was talking to Mrs Jacks. Jessop and Connie
exchanged glances.

'She's
back,' he said, somewhat unnecessarily. 'You can show her your dress now.'

'I don't
think I will,' Connie said quickly. 'It doesn't matter now.'

Sheila
raised an eyebrow as Samuel Jessop walked out from her secretary's room and
nodded to her as he crossed the floor to his own office, but she didn't say
anything.

While
Connie was getting ready that evening for her jaunt, there was a knock at the
door. When she opened it, Mrs Withers stood on the threshold. As always, her
skinny arms were crossed over her bosom protectively.

'A Miss
Delaney just telephoned, Missy,' Mrs Withers informed her, eyeing the girl
coldly. 'The message was for you to enjoy yourself tonight, and to wish you
good luck.' She sniffed disapprovingly.
implying
that
she didn't like to be used as a messenger. 'Got yourself a fancy man, have you?
You didn't waste
no
time.'

Connie went
and sat down again at her dressing table.

'Thank you
for delivering the message, Mrs Withers,' she said, in a voice of dismissal.

'Hoity
toity
!'
The landlady wrinkled her nose. 'Don't think
you can bring him back here, my girl, that's all
... '

'I haven't
forgotten.'

' ... 'Cos
you know I won't stand for
no
hanky
panky
going on in these rooms. I told her too, that cheap
hussy next door, that
Tilly
Liner.'

Connie
controlled herself and said nothing. Mrs Withers' mouth twitched and her eyes
followed Connie as she stood up in bra and panties and walked over to the bed
on which the new dress lay.

'So you're
off now, are you?'

'What does
it look
like!
'

'Whoever
be
is, he'll wait for you outside, my girl.'

Connie
merely shrugged and continued dressing.

'By the
way,' the landlady went on casually, 'did your' dentist call you?'

The start
of a puzzled look was changed quickly to a nod.

'He did,'
Connie answered cheerfully, 'and my teeth are in perfect condition now, thank
you.'

Mrs Withers
looked annoyed, but since she couldn't think of anything else to complain
about, she left.

Connie
glanced at the clock. It was only seven-thirty, still half an hour to go, so
she sat on the edge of the bed and lit a cigarette. Since leaving the Home, she
had been smoking more. She had first tried it at the age of twelve when she and
a couple of the older girls used to hide behind some bushes in the grounds of
the Home and light up in secret. Connie hadn't liked it much but it had seemed
an adult thing to do. Now, it had become a habit, and smoking gave her
something to do with her hands when she was feeling awkward or bored.

She was
also acquiring a taste for liquor. Back at the Home, the only times she had
ever been given anything stronger than tomato juice was either at the
occasional dances held in a nearby hall, or at Christmas, when the staff
allowed the children to celebrate with glasses of sherry or wine.

At the
Topaz club, Connie hadn't known what to order when asked, but the men she had
been with seemed to know. The first man she had danced with, and with whom she
had stayed for about ten minutes, had said, 'And what's your tipple, girlie?'

She had
thought of ordering a sherry; they were pleasant-tasting and made one feel warm
and relaxed, but the man had answered himself, after a considering look at her,
'You look like a gin and orange woman to me.'

Connie had
never had one before, but she was willing to try. She hadn't liked it much but
had gulped down a second before another man had asked her to dance and, without
asking her, had ordered Connie
a rum
.

She might
have ended up that evening in a bad
way,
had
Tilly
on passing, not hissed into her ear.

'What the
bleedin
' hell you doing, Connie?
I been
watching you
actin
' like this stuff's water! Don't
show me up, kid, you're 'ere as me guest, and they might not let you come in
again if you're sick all over the ruddy carpet! Stick to the same drink or
you'll be blotto before you've even 'ad a chance to size up the talent 'ere,
and what in God's name is that you're
drinkin
' now?'

The younger
girl had palmed her burning cheeks. The music seemed to be blaring deep into
her skull. 'I think he called it a Bloody Mary,' she had replied vaguely.

'
Strewth
!'
Tilly
raised her eyes
to heaven. 'Carry on with that and you'll be too pissed to even dance straight.
It's a hundred per cent
proof, that
stuff. Where's
that guy I saw you with a minute ago, anyway?'

Connie's
eyes had wavered to the bar.

'Over there
... '

Tilly
saw
a small, obese, balding man, a fat cigar planted between two greasy, rubbery
lips, with his arm around a girl's shoulders. His hand was dropping almost
casually on to the mound of the girl's right breast.

'He wanted
to take me for a drive,' Connie went on, pronouncing each word carefully, 'and
when I said I didn't want to, he told me he just had to go to the gents ... '

'And that's
just where he isn't,'
Tilly
had said, looking over
towards the man and his partner again. 'Look, don't waste your time with
useless creeps like him,
kid,
you won't get
nothin
' from those sods unless you pay through the nose.
You've got to learn to recognise the winners from the losers if you
wanna
get on in this game.' She clicked her fingers
suddenly. 'Hey, I know a
good'un
for you. He's a new
boy here, only seen '
im
around once or twice before,
but I'd say he's right up your street, if you're still serious about a steady
bloke, that is. Go and splash your face with cold water, pat some powder on
your shiny '
ooter
, and I'll introduce you to '
im
.' She had given a theatrical sigh. 'He's such a dish, I
should really keep him for
meself
but, just for once,
from the goodness of me heart, I'll do a buddy of mine a favour and let you '
ave
him.'

Connie had
done as ordered and felt revived after a wash and brush-up. She had met Philip
Dual and straightaway he had informed her that she was a champagne girl. Connie
hadn't minded being thought so in the slightest and soon found she liked the
taste better than anything else she had been given. It had made her feel giggly
and silly, yet soft and feminine, and she fitted into Philip's arms when they
danced as if she had been moulded to his body. She had liked the young man at
once,
he seemed different from all the others she'd met that
evening; more respectful, more charming, and already she had begun to dream.