Capital Sins

by Jane Marciano

  'My husband's a wealthy man.' She looked across at Tilly. 'You haven't changed much. Hair's a bit longer, and less make-up, and what you're wearing couldn't have been cheap ... '

  'No, my friend takes good care of me.' If Connie noticed a slight hesitation as Tilly mentioned her friend, she said nothing.

  'Where are you working now, Tilly?' she asked, pouring herself a cup of tea. She grinned as she watched the other eat. Tilly always had scoffed down her food as if someone were waiting to snatch it from her. Tilly patted her lips on a paper tissue before answering.

  'At a club,' she replied briefly, before taking a gulp of tea.

  'Not the Topaz still!' Connie said in amazement, but Tilly shook her head.

  'Nah, left there when I was kicked out by Ma Withers. She really dun me a good turn. This place is Hunters Lodge ... Ever bin there?'

  'Never heard of it. Are you still hostessing?'

  Tilly flushed. 'Actually,' she said, suddenly dropping her natural accent, 'I'm part owner.' She lowered her eyes modestly.

  'Oh, Tilly, that's great. I'm really pleased for you. No wonder you look so happy with yourself.'

  'Well, thanks, Connie,' Tilly said softly. She leant back and stared at Connie intently, and reverted to her former speech.

  'But you look a bit down yerself, in spite of the posh gear.' She inched closer. 'Don't get on too good with the ole man, hub?'

  Connie pushed her empty cup away. 'We get along,' she said brightly. 'Come on, now. Tell me what you've been doing with yourself all this time.'

  Hours passed, Tilly doing most of the talking. Connie glanced at her watch, then rose to her feet.

  'I didn't realise it was getting so late, Tilly.'

  'You off anywhere special, then?'

  Connie halted. 'No, not really. My time's my own, and there's nothing on tonight that can't be put off. Why?'

  Tilly assumed a casual expression that didn't fool Connie. 'Oh, just thought you'd like to come an' visit my club,.that's all.'

  'I'd love to,' Connie said sincerely. 'Is it far?'

  'Few blocks.' Tilly was all eagerness, like a child wanting to show off a new toy.

  'I've got the car parked nearby. Tell me the way ... '

  It was early evening and the sky hadn't begun to darken yet. Connie parked around a corner and they walked the few yards to a doorway, over which was a neon sign reading Hunters Lodge in flashing pink letters. Tilly said the club was situated in the basement of the building and if she hadn't pointed it out, Connie would never have noticed the place. It had a most discreet entrance and she followed Tilly down an iron staircase that wound them down and down until they reached a small, carpeted hallway off which were a number of doors. There was an attractive brunette seated at a reception desk in the hall before what was obviously the main doorway, and she greeted Tilly with a wink, then looked over towards Connie who was coming up behind.

  'Connie, this is Alice,' Tilly said, then asked the girl, 'Is Jenny around?'

  The brunette nodded and Tilly swung through the doorway, Connie following.

  'Jenny's my partner in crime,' Tilly explained in a loud whisper. 'She ran this place on 'er tod before I came into it. She's the friend I'm sharing the fiat with.'

  'Oh, I see.' Although it was actually difficult to see anything at all. They had entered a large room and the lighting was so bad, so purposely lowered, that the few customers already there were barely visible. However, thd bar was better lighted, and although she couldn't make out its members, a group was quietly playing from the far end of the room.

  Tables in alcoves were illuminated with flickering candles, and Connie could just make out shadowy forms seated there.

  'Come over and meet Jenny,' Tilly said.

  They made their way to the bar behind which a girl was wiping glasses with a duster. She smiled when she saw Tilly.

  'Hi, there,' she called.

  Tilly nodded, a little brusquely. 'Seen Jenny?'

  'She's in the back, doing some paper work. You want me to get her for you?'

  'Uhuh.'

  However, the girl didn't move immediately, but looked towards Connie.

  'Friend of yours?'she enquired of Tilly.

  Connie got the impression that there was an underlying meaning in the question, for the tone of voice was accusatory.

  However, Tilly merely drawled, 'Just move your ass and call Jenny for me.' Her eyes flashed a threat, and again Connie sensed a disquieting undercurrent between these two females. She dismissed it as the girl, a sexy-looking redhead, pouted then flounced away to do as she was told. Connie reflected that Tilly had turned into quite a little power house, and wondered what her partner was like.

  Tilly sauntered behind the bar and, without asking her, poured Connie a drink. They seated themselves on stools to wait. While Tilly chatted away, Connie was aware that the club was steadily filling up behind her and, by the time Jenny arrived, the air was smoky and full of voices and loud music.

  'Who's the bombshell?' a woman's voice enquired, suddenly slicing through Tilly's gossip. The two girls swivelled on theit stools and Connie was face to face with a woman of diminutive height but gross size. She must have weighed at least fifteen stone, Connie thought. Tilly had leapt to her feet and was hugging the woman fiercely. Connie was a little unnerved by the unnecessary display of affection, but extended her hand when Tilly introduced them.

  'Connie's an old pal, Jen,' Tilly was saying. 'She practically walked over me when I was out shopping.' Although a little taller than Jenny, Tilly seemed dwarfed at her side. The woman was eyeing Connie who was finding it hard keeping her expression bland under the scrutiny. Still, it seemed as if she had passed the examination.

  'I'm pleased to meet you,' Jenny said, and her voice was low and deep, as if muffled by the folds of loose fat around her chin and jowls. She wore a floating, black dress that draped her like a tent. Around her thick neck were strings of pearls that looked as if they could be real. Bracelets clanked on her heavy wrists as she ordered another round of drinks for them all.

  On the whole, Jenny and Tilly discussed business while the sexy redhead supplied with booze and, although Connie was included occasionally in their conversation, she found her attention wandering. The club, she judged, must make a good profit, telling by the numbers entering and leaving. There was a steady stream of traffic, more women than men; and some of the girls were dancing with each other. A liberated place, Connie thought to herself in amusement.

  Jenny leaned or, rather, swayed towards Connie. 'Tilly tells me you're married.'

  Connie stared back into two eyes, black as shiny buttons. 'That's right,' she replied pleasantly, wondering whether Tilly would mind if she left. The 'scene' wasn't really to her taste.

  'Happily?' Jenny asked bluntly.

  'Like most couples,' Connie said vaguely. 'Why do you ask?'

  'You look sad.'

  Connie swigged back her drink, which was immediately replaced by another. Her tongue felt loosened. 'How so?' She felt in a playful mood.

  'Your eyes,' Jenny said, the rings on her podgy, stumpy fingers flashing and catching the light. 'Eyes are always a great give-away, and yours are most expressive, my dear.'

  'Jen's very perceptive,' Tilly put in with a giggle. 'Knows more about a person than that person knows.'

  'A very useful ability,' Connie said carefully. Her head felt fuzzy.

  Jenny gave a tight smile that showed a row of tiny, pointed teeth. However, the smile didn't reach her eyes. She looked !l.t Connie's replenished glass. 'Drink up, you're lagging behind.'

  Connie obediently raised the glass to her lips.

  Passers-by stopped at their table to acknowledge Jenny and, after a while, Connie didn't bother even to look any more. She now felt wild and abandoned, but surprisingly, Jenny was proving to be excellent company. She kept inviting people to sit down and the atmosphere was lively. Jenny's wit was sharp, and time and again Connie was convulsed into fits of helpless laughter. Yet, in s
pite of the jovial mood, she sensed she shouldn't stay too long, but it seemed as if she were glued to her seat.

  There were people, people everywhere, and it was hard to distinguish between males and females. Connie was drunk and, when somebody – she couldn't hear if it was Jenny or Tilly – suggested that they all retire into one of the back rooms, she almost had to be lifted from her seat.

  She found herself lying on the floor on cushions that were scattered around, and she looked around with dim eyes for Tilly. The room was gloomy, most figures mere outlines. Yet it was cool, and Connie leaned against a wall and briefly closed her eyes. It helped a little. Someone jostled her elbow and she looked up mistily into a face, a dark, shadowy face. A hand was offering a cigarette so she inserted it between her lips and inhaled. It was good, so she puffed again, before it was drawn from her mouth and passed around the circle. Almost eagerly, she waited for its return. A hand gently propped her up and back came the cigarette. She inhaled again. The effect was weird. Instead of drugging her senses, it alerted them and she was able to see clearly again, as if her eyes were X-ray. Music, all sound was intensified. She seemed to be floating and yet, when her lips were gently kissed, her nerves tingled, her whole body responded.

  Couples were dancing in the centre of the circle of people, then there was low humming, chanting and hand-clapping. A tall, skinny girl, wearing a beautific smile and little else was stripping off the rest of her clothing to slow, beat pulses that seemed to be coming from Connie's own heart.

  She sensed, rather than felt, a figure lying by her side, and Connie reached out. Her groping hand was caught, held, then she felt kisses, as gentle as butterfly wings, landing on her closed eyelids. She looked and saw a young man bending over her. His chin was only a little rough as it rubbed against her skin, but Connie gripped his hair and pulled him closer. His touch was loving, and she responded with every fibre of her being. Tears squeezed from between her eyelids, and she felt loved, really loved and wanted. For the first time in her life, someone was in love with her. She wanted to exchange looks with the unknown young man. She wanted him to know how much she cared, to share this deep feeling of affection and friendship that had arisen in her. It had lain dormant for too long, she had to return such depths of emotion. Her clothes half off, she was stroked. Neither spoke and desire welled in Connie and pounded at her. She stretched towards him ... then froze. Connie drew herself in upon herself, like petals closing on a flower. Her reflexes were slow motion, but her brain was quicker.

  'You ... you're a girl!' Her shocked scream was only a whisper in the darkness. She fought off the enveloping clouds that threatened to immobilise her limbs.

  'Get ... get off me!' Connie struggled to her feet. It was as if a thousand hands were clawing her down. Wildly, in terror, she stumbled her way over prone bodies, not daring to look closer. She fell over a hunched figure and blinked unbelievingly. Tilly, lying naked, with the great figure of Jenny thrusting at her with a contraption strapped around her loins. Vomit rose in Connie's throat and she tore from the club blindly, pulling her clothes on around her. No one saw her, no one stopped her, and only when she was in the street did she give way to the stream of vomit.

  Shaking, perspiring and white-faced, she drove across red lights in her hurry to be home. She didn't stop running until she was safe in her own room with the door locked behind her. Then Connie gave vent to a fit of weeping which seemed to continue even when she fell asleep sprawled across her huge bed.

  The knocking in her head grew louder, finally rousing her from a dream about which she dared not think further. The knocks were at her bedroom door and Connie lurched into a sitting position, groggily covering her eyes from the searching daylight which cascaded into her room as if the night had never existed.

  'Wha . . . what is it?' She needed a bath to wash off the foulness.

  'Madam, are you awake?' More knocking.

  Connie slipped off the bed and wrenched open the door. The maid cowered at the sight of her.

  'It's Mr Fletcher, ma'am. On the telephone.'

  'Oh, God.' Connie wearily ran fingers through her tousled curls. 'Ask Mr Fletcher to hold on, or tell him to call back in an hour.'

  'It's the third time he's rung this morning, Madam. He's calling long distance.'

  'Run me a bath, Marie,' Connie commanded as she strode to the telephone. Before lifting the receiver, she jammed a cigarette into her mouth and, although her hand was trembling, managed to light it. She turned away from the mirror and sank into a chair.

  'Howard?'

  'Connie, darling, are you free tonight?'

  Not, 'how are you', or 'missed you', but straight to the point, she thought wearily. The last thing at that moment she wanted to think of was a naked body, but she needed him, needed someone ...

  'I'll be in, Howard ... just hang on a minute, will you?' Marie had been dusting at a respectful distance, but she approached Connie when summoned. 'Will Mr Jessop be dining in tonight?'

  'He informed Mrs Bloom early this morning that he and Miss Delaney would be at a meeting for most of the day, so not to expect him back till real late.'

  'How late is real late?'

  'Early morning, I gather. Shall I tell cook you'll be requiring a meal tonight, Madam?'

  'Do that, Marie. Tell her to cook for two. I'm expecting a guest.'

  She waved the maid away, and returned to her call.

  'Did you hear that, Howard?'

  'Yes. My plane arrives at seven so I'll be with you in half an hour.'

  'Good. See you then.'

  It had been on the cards for some time. Government legislation and high interest rates had affected the profits of property development and, because of this, many schemes were losing money. The banks financing his company wanted their loans re paid, so Jessop had had to sell many properties, using profits from the casino and betting shops to pay interest charges. Being a shrewd businessman, he had anticipated the slump which was now affecting the whole country, and his other outside interests were still paying dividends although he realised that even he would have to tighten his belt a little and proceed with caution if he didn't want to lose the most precious thing to him – his company.

  Samuel and Sheila were having a quiet drink together in the bar of the hotel where they had just finished a meeting. It was nine-thirty.

  'It didn't go too badly, did it?' Sheila said, swallowing the cherry from her cocktail. 'At least the deal went through, which is more than I can say for other companies.'

  'Mm, glad it's finished earlier than expected, though. I'm beat.'

  'You look it. Why don't you go home and get a good night's rest.'

  He yawned. 'I think I will.'

  Sheila put her hand on his arm. 'Have you seen Connie? I haven't had a chance to ask you before. We had a bit of a quarrel yesterday and I upset her.'

  'I didn't hear her come in last night. If and when I do get the pleasure of seeing her again, do you want me to give her a message?'

  'Just tell her I'm sorry, will you?'

  He looked at her, and his eyes were gentle. 'Your friendship with her means a lot to you, doesn't it?'

  'I think to both of us,' Sheila said briefly. 'She doesn't really have anyone else.'

  Samuel raised his eyebrows cynically.

  'You know what I mean,' she said, a little impatiently.

  He sighed. 'I suppose so.'

  Sheila toyed with her glass. 'Sometimes I wish I could turn the clock back. I feel as guilty as you when I think of how I pressured Connie into keeping her babies. If she hadn't trusted me so much, none of this might have happened.'

  'I'd say I was more guilty than you,' he said heavily.

  She squeezed his arm. 'Well, let's not harp on what's done. Go on home and relax in a hot tub unless,' she smiled into his eyes, 'unless you want some company for the rest of the evening ... '

  'You're the most generous woman I've ever met, Sheila, but I'd better go. Thanks, though.' He bent to kiss her forehead.


  She watched him swing through the revolving doors of the hotel, then summoned the bartender.

  It was easy to see that his wife had had company for dinner. Samuel was more than affronted; he was furious that she should have brought one of them back to his own home. He'd have something to say to her in the morning about such a breach of faith. This kind of thing couldn't go on; they just had to come to some sort of understanding about the whole position.

  Tight-lipped, he got ready for bed, yet his anger and hurt mounted rather than diminished. By God, he'd have it out with her now! Perhaps if they talked sensibly, they could come to a settlement. He'd be reasonable, not lose his temper with her. He'd never been angered enough to shout at her before, and he wouldn't now. They'd talk calmly and rationally, like civilised adults, and maybe they'd get everything sorted out once and for all.

  He halted by her door, hand raised in mid-air. His expression changed as he heard giggling and scuffling from inside Connie's room. His face went livid and it was all he could do to stop himself from hammering on the door. His knuckles were white as he tapped. The scuffling stopped immediately. He heard whispering.

  'Who is it?' Her voice seemed calm enough.

  'Samuel. I want to talk to you.'

  'It's late. Can't it wait until morning?' He heard a man's voice, low and urgent.

  He clenched his jaw. 'No.'

  There was an exaggerted yawn. 'I'm sorry, but I'm tired. I've just taken a sleeping pill, so you'll have to wait.'

  Samuel turned on his heel and went into his own room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  In Connie's room, Fletcher turned to her. 'I must go.'

  Connie wound her arms around his neck. 'Stay with me.'

  'He must know you're not alone.' He tugged her soft arms from around his neck. 'We'll meet again.'

  'When?' She pouted.

  He looked agitated. 'I don't know ... maybe next week.'

  'Hah, you're scared of him. Don't be, there's no need. He's just a mouse.'

  'I'm scared of what he can do.'