Capital Sins

by Jane Marciano

  'How about La Padoli's?' Tilly chirped up as a suggestion.

  She looked as if she were enjoying herself, Connie thought, and didn't appear to mind if Robert's pink digits were crawling all over her skin like slugs.

  'Good idea,' Henry answered. and swerved the car to join the flow of traffic. 'They've got a good casino there, and we can have ourselves a bit of a flutter before eating. You'd like that, wouldn't you?' he added to no one in particular, and got no reply.

  He turned on the radio and Connie was glad they didn't have to make conversation. She was beginning to dislike herself and, more than that, to resent Tilly. Suddenly, she sensed Henry's hand hovering above her knees, and she stiffened against the leather upholstery.

  'My grandmother's name was Constance, you know,' Henry was saying.

  'No, I didn't. Really?'

  'She looked a bit like you when she was a girl.' Connie grunted.

  'Were you named after anyone in your family?' he went on chattily, not at all disturbed by her aloofness.

  'No,' she said crisply. 'I was named after a stray cat.'

  He looked amazed, but concentrated on his driving without replying.

  'What do you do with yourself?' he resumed after a short pause.

  'When?'

  Tilly leaned forwards. 'She's a secretary, Henry,' she said, putting friendliness into her voice and prodding the back of Connie's seat warningly.

  'Oh? Who do you work for?'

  'Jessop's.' Connie felt extremely uncommunicative and wished he'd just drive and keep his mouth shut.

  'Good people, Jessop's,' Henry said, wagging his head knowledgeably. 'Isn't that Sam Jessop's baby?'

  'Mmm.' Very noncommital.

  'I met the man once, Constance,' he went on, assuming the tone of a man of affairs. 'Very powerful and influential chap. I'd give my right arm if I could have half of what he's got.'

  'Is that all?'

  He didn't appreciate the sarcasm, nor did the other two, for they were busy in the back.

  Much to her relief, Henry didn't attempt to talk further until their car had pulled up before the club. As the Jag was driven away to be parked, Henry slipped his hand under Connie's elbow and led her up the flight of stairs to the revolving doors. Robert and Tilly followed and Connie could hear her giggling flirtatiously at something he had said. The girls disappeared into the powder room.

  'He's thoroughly obnoxious,' Connie muttered as she washed her hands. 'I don't know why I let you talk me into these things.'

  'For pity's sake, can it! We're here now, so make the most of it,' Tilly answered irritably. 'You only gotta soft soap him a couple of hours and then we'll be away. You could try to be a bit more appreciative, after all the trouble I've gone to,' she added in an injured voice.

  Connie sighed and applied a coat of pink lipstick. 'Where to then?'

  Tilly grinned wickedly. 'Wherever you fancy, kid. We could go to an all-night movie, a dance, or even go for a drink and see if we can pick up a coupla dishy blokes more in your line.'

  'I feel cheap ... ' But she said no more as Tilly grasped her hand and pulled her away.

  They went to the packed casino where Robert and Henry tried their luck at the gaming tables. Henry insisted on giving Connie a pile of chips to play with and it didn't take her long to lose £10 at the roulette wheel. She then hung around the tables feeling bored once the novelty wore off, until her companions tired of losing and they went to another floor. They were lucky to get a spare table that wasn't reserved, for the restaurant, like the casino. was full, but it appeared that the table they were given had just been cancelled only five minutes before they arrived.

  A waiter led the way to the corner table and, in spite of her mood, Connie couldn't help being thrilled. It was the first really plush place she'd been to, and the flowers on the table, set between two dripping candles, were real, not plastic.

  Tilly pinched Connie's arm and grinned saucily. 'Nice, eh? Worth it?'

  The band was playing a soft, Jilting melody and Connie felt herself mellowing. Her foot tapped in time to the music for she loved to dance. All the men wore dinner jackets and many of the women long evening gowns. Connie shrugged. As they had made their way to the table, a couple of male heads had turned as she went by, so she knew she looked suitably attired even for such a grand place.

  The wine waiter appeared and smiled professionally at the quartet.

  'An aperitif. perhaps, sir?' He was addressing Henry, who turned to Connie.

  'I think so. Constance?'

  She blinked rapidly. 'A ... a Martini, please.'

  'How would madam like it, French or Italian?'

  'Er, sweet.'

  When that waiter had glided away with their orders, another appeared to take their orders for food. The next ten minutes were taken up with scanning the menus, and choosing the most expensive dishes as Tilly had suggested. They made small talk right through the hors d'oeuvres, and then Henry leaned over towards Connie.

  'Would you care to dance?'

  She allowed him to lead her to the floor, smiling graciously all the while, where six or seven other couples were swaying in a dignified manner to the music. She could smell his breath as he laid his cheek against hers and, from his manner as well, knew Henry had already had quite a bit to drink earlier.

  'You're darned pretty,' he complimented, as he clung to her waist. 'I just love the way your eyes light up when you talk, as if they're sparkling just for me, if I may be so bold as to presume,' he added boldly, yet at the same time managing a fawning humility.

  Connie's lips drew back in a smile, feeling that politeness required some kind of gratitude. 'I think you're nice looking too,' she lied.

  He looked gratified and slid his hands up her back to rest between her shoulder blades where the skin was bare.

  'You and I must go somewhere quieter later, when we've ditched the others,' he remarked, a little hoarsely.

  Her smile remained set. 'That would be nice, Henry.'

  With his left hand still on her back, he removed his right hand from her waist and, with an expression of extreme innocence, placed it on her shoulder. She could feel her flesh contracting again.

  'I would like to kiss you very much, Constance,' he said, at the same time thrusting his face forward.

  'Henry! Not here.' She looked at him, shocked. 'Perhaps later,' she demurred, remembering her role.

  His lips made a smacking sound and they danced on without further conversation until the music stopped, when she freed herself from him and they returned to their table. Connie tolerated his bony knee thrusting against hers under the table during the rest of the meal, and bore his fatuous comments as patiently as she could while Henry kept ordering more and more bottles of wine. Then the time came when Tilly stood up and said, 'Excuse me, gentlemen, I just have to powder my nose before we go,' and twitched her nose at Connie.

  Connie arose immediately, trying not to look too relieved, feeling that the charade had to be maintained to the very end.

  'I'll come with you,' she said. As a matter of fact, she was dying for a pee.

  Five minutes later, the girls slipped out from the cloakroom unseen by their escorts. Connie could just see the two men through the glass partition from where she stood. Henry was gazing anxiously in the direction of the powder room, and she almost felt sorry for him, until she remembered his invitation while they had danced. She thought of his wife and said to Tilly angrily:

  'They make me sick. They're just dirty old men, but they wouldn't be if girls like us didn't pander to their whims!'

  Tilly laughed. 'Don't let it bug you, kid. It's guys like Robert and Henry who're our meal tickets every now and again, and they can often splash out on more'n just free nosh if you and I play our cards right.'

  They went out into the street. It was dark, but many blazing neon lights illuminated the crowded main road with flashing Coca Cola signs, and a hundred more dazzling lights advertising other brand names. Connie soon cheered up as
they walked along, for Tilly's mood and laughter were infectious. They crossed a narrow alleyway and passed a corner stand where a man was selling meat patties and hamburgers.

  'Want one?' Tilly exclaimed impulsively.

  'After that meal? You must be joking.'

  'Not really. I'm always hungry.'

  They went further, then: 'So what do you fancy doing? l ain't walkin' the streets all night like some pro. Besides, me shoes are killin' me,' Tilly groaned. 'Feels like the soles of me feet are bumin'.'

  Connie considered for a second, then, 'Want to go to a dance?'

  The other shook her head. 'Nah, I just wanna sit down, take the weight orf me feet, and get me breath back.'

  Just then, Connie's attention was caught by a busker entertaining a queue standing before a cinema.

  'Let's go to the pictures,' she suggested. 'I haven't seen a really good film for ages.'

  Tilly assented and they took their place. The musician kept them amused while the queue inched forward, and Tilly bought herself a packet of peanuts and proceeded to scatter the shells over the pavement. They bought their tickets and eventually were ushered to seats in the darkness, which felt heavy and warm from so many people. They squeezed their way past rows of protesting knees, finally sinking back in exhaustion as they made it to two empty seats.

  'Is it always so crowded in here at this time?' Connie asked, her eyes already fixed on the screen.

  'The navy's in town ... ' Tilly began, and was promptly shushed by a couple behind.

  A quarter of an hour later, Tilly nudged Connie.

  'Let's move,' she urged in a small whisper.

  Connie tutted in annoyance for she was enjoying the film.

  'What for?' she hissed back.

  'The geezer next to me keeps trying to touch me up.

  'Ignore him.'

  'He won't let me. I wouldn't mind, but he smells like he's come straight from the sewers.'

  Suppressing a sigh, C'onnie stood up and, apologising as they threaded their way back along the row, moved to another position.

  'Now will you be quiet,' she said, as they settled themselves.

  Tilly was silent for about five minutes, then she elbowed Connie again. 'What's it all about? I dunno what's going on.'

  'It's a political film. It's very clever, don't you understand it at all?'

  'No.'

  'Try, you'll find it easier if you concentrate,' Connie said helpfully, hoping she didn't sound too pompous.

  'It's boring,' Tilly said restlessly. 'I didn't know it was this kinda film, I thought it was a western.'

  'Can't you keep still ... '

  'Aw, Connie, let's go. I can't sit through this rubbish, I'll fall asleep if I do.'

  'Maybe then I'd get some peace,' Connie said ungraciously beneath her breath but, nevertheless, after a minute, the girls left.

  'That was a waste of money,' Connie said flatly as they mingled once more with the crowd outside.

  'It sure was,' Tilly agreed, misunderstanding her.

  'So where to now? It's getting late.'

  'Let's get ourselves a drink somewhere and take it easy, you

  never know, something interesting might still 'appen.'

  She looked so enthusiastic that Connie didn't argue. They crossed the road and entered a pub which, like every other place, was crowded, but the girls were in luck. Two women had just vacated a table, and Connie grabbed the chairs before anyone else had a chance.

  'I'll get 'em,' Tilly yelled over the racket. 'What'll you 'ave?'

  'Anything cheap,' Connie called back, as Tilly inched her way through a press of people around the bar, 'but make it long and cool. It's stifling in here.'

  Connie sat back and surveyed the people curiously, seeing knots of young people laughing, several of them college students, a trio of hippies, some business types – judging by the bowler hats and pin-striped suits – a few housewives who were chattering about how much money they had won at bingo, a couple of faded, blowsy types among them, a couple of young tarts who looked older, and a few old ones, who tried to look younger: all types.

  It amused Connie to wonder into which category she would fall if she were being assessed.

  A jukebox in the corner was blaring out pop music and there were a few couples trying to dance on a postage stamp-sized floor. As her eyes skimmed the room, Connie sensed that she, in turn, was being stared at. Her eyes met those of a man in uniform and she quickly lowered her gaze, but when she looked back at him a second later, he was still looking, a smile hovering now on his lips which told that he'd known she would be unable to refrain from stealing a second glance. She could feel her face go hot but, before she could avert her gaze in time, he'd nudged a uniformed companion. He whispered something into his mate's ear, and the other turned also and looked towards where Connie was sitting. She raised her chin haughtily, but watched the pair from the corner of her eye, the first man having intrigued her. To her dismay, they were weaving their way towards her. She sat up straighter and looked around in vain for Tilly.

  'Do you mind if we join you, Ma'am? Are you here by yourself?'

  It was the first man who'd spoken and she recognised an American accent. That surprised her somewhat, for he hadn't struck her as being a Yank. But, since she'd never met any before, Connie just put it down to what she realised was an absurd notion that all Americans were white Anglo-Saxons. I've been getting too many ideas from the pictures, she told herself.

  He was quite tall, with very broad shoulders under his spotless uniform. Clinging to her preconceived ideas, she categorised his build as 'American' – she thought of John Wayne – but in contrast his features were Oriental – attractively so. His skin was smooth and bronzed from much sun and wind, his hair was jet black, crew cut. His features contrasted oddly with a masculine, well-built body. The eyes were almond-shaped, slanting upwards at the corners and fringed by long lashes the colour of his hair, and the same colour as his eyes. Even though his beautifully shaped eyebrows didn't wing upwards, it was obvious there was Japanese blood in him. She looked away from this most arresting-looking man to the other.

  His friend, who hadn't as yet spoken, looked more as Connie had expected as an American, if that was what he was – quite tall, stockier and sandy haired. He had a round, almost chubby face, with a cheerful expression, and neither of them could have been much older than twenty-three or so.

  Connie spied Tilly's curly head bobbing up and down among a sea of faces and, in reply to his question, raised her eyes to the American-Japanese and said, a little lamely:

  'Er, I'm with my girl friend ... '

  He followed the direction of her pointing finger and also saw Tilly, who had just noticed the two men with Connie, and who was looking at them with an interested expression. He turned back to Connie with a slow, lazy smile.

  'That's fine with us, isn't it, Gary?'

  The second man had quickly summed up the situation and he nodded obligingly. From nowhere, they found two chairs and dragged them over to the girl's table. They settled them selves comfortably, crossed their long legs, and the first regarded Connie slowly with his dark, inscrutable eyes until she began to feel quite uncomfortable. Then Tilly returned, bearing drinks. She beamed at the men winningly.

  'Hello, boys,' she drawled, 'come to sit awhile with us, 'ave you?'

  The one named Gary half rose from his chair.

  'If it's OK with you, Ma'am,' he said boyishly in a Southern accent.

  Tilly shook her curls in the way she knew became her. 'S'fine with us. We weren't goin' nowhere, and we was hoping to find a bit of company, wasn't we, Connie?'

  Connie could only murmur her agreement.

  The first man looked at the two glasses on the table, then smiled at his friend while producing a bill from his thick wallet.

  'Go 'n' get us four real drinks, Gary, not this lemonade stuff that the gals've got here.'

  Gary hurried off, apparently used to taking orders from his friend. Nobody spoke
when he'd gone. Tilly rummaged for cigarettes through a bag she could never find anything in; while Connie twisted the strap of her bag between her fingers and tried not to look as if she were interested in the foreigner. But he was highly attractive. It seemed that each time she raised her eyes they were met by his stare and it made her feel quite shy. Gary was back soon and the four stared at one another in silence. Tilly was the first to break the pause, and she picked up her glass.

  'Well, cheers to you all,' she cried jauntily.

  They drank their whisky while Connie sipped at hers and stared vaguely at nothing. Tilly inhaled on her cigarette.

  'How long you guys in town for?'

  'Two round trips to the Persian Gulf, and our first night ashore,' Gary answered. He leaned back in his chair, which creaked under his weight, and beamed at the girls expansively. 'How's about telling us your names?'

  Tilly fluttered her eyelashes and simpered: 'I'm Tilly, and this 'ere's Connie,' she said, waving her hand. 'What's yours, mate?'

  'I'm Gary; and he's Alan. Well, now that we know each other, drink up so we can all have another.'

  Connie resented the way Alan watched the proceedings with what she considered a superior and supercilious smile, as if he spoke only when there was something worth replying to.

  'Oooh!' Tilly exclaimed delightedly. 'You'll 'ave us tipsy!'

  Gary winked at Alan who was still maintaining a silent and thoughtful attitude. Connie felt it was about time that he came off his pedestal and joined in, and clearing her throat, set her gaze just below his nose.

  'Have ... have you been in the navy long ... Alan?'

  'I'm not with the navy. Second officer on an oil tanker, Connie,' he corrected gravely, understanding her motives. His black eyes laughed at her. 'I joined up when I was eighteen. Gary about a year or so back.'

  'It ... must be a very exciting life,' she said uncertainly.

  He grinned. 'It does get to be when we call in at port and get a chance to see what the gals are like.'

  Tilly said coyly, 'You sailors are all alike.'

  'That's us, love 'em and leave 'em.' Alan looked down at the whisky in Connie's glass which she had barely sampled. 'Come along, honey, finish it up,' he coaxed. 'We cain't enjoy ourselves if you're the only one who's stone-cold sober.'