Pinstripes (5 page)

After three years together, Virginia
’s friends all took their first-class degrees to postgraduate courses around the country, even around the world. Virginia had decided to take her third-class degree in economics to the City. When she failed to secure a job she felt too embarrassed to keep in contact with her successful friends. While they took off to their new lives, Virginia returned to Coventry and her parents. Desolate, she found her parents devoid of sympathy. Instead they told her how disappointed they were, and Virginia began her phase of loneliness.

She had forgotten how bad living with her parents could be, so she told them she needed to live in London to find a job, took her savings and went. Every recruitment consultancy told her the same thing: the only way to get into the City was as a graduate trainee, or as an assistant/secretary. When Virginia was offered a job as secretary to Isabelle at SFH she took it, knowing that it was only temporary, that it wouldn
’t be for ever, that it wouldn’t be for long. Now, she had stopped telling herself that.

As she worked like a horse for Isabelle, she prayed that soon she would find something, anything that would make her happy.

***

Clara
’s mouth felt dry and she couldn’t feel her teeth. The second thing she noticed was how much her head hurt. She felt shit. She tried to turn over slowly, without moving her head too much, and when she did, the third thing she noticed was Toby. She closed her eyes and opened them again to make sure.

Forgetting her thumping head, she sat upright. It was 6 a.m. Slowly she got out of bed and walked to the kitchen. She tried to ignore the fact that she was naked and
the reason why she was naked. Gulping down a glass of water, she scrabbled in a drawer for some headache pills. Praying to the god of paracetamol, she heaved a sigh of relief when she found them. Swallowing four, she gulped down another glass of water and crawled back to bed.

As she walked back in Toby was awake and watched her. No matter how much she needed to crawl back under her duvet, she was unable to do so, just in case he got ideas. Of course, he had ideas: after all, she had screwed him. She grabbed a towel that lay on her bedroom floor and wrapped it around her. This was turning out to be a bad day already. Headache or not, Clara decided to sort things out.
“Good morning, Toby.”

“
Hey.” Toby had that lovesick look in his eyes that Clara had seen a million times before.

“
Toby, I want to thank you. Last night was wonderful.” She paused as she tried to remember if it had been wonderful, and found she could remember little of it. “But, well, you know it can’t happen again.”

It was exactly what Toby had been expecting, but he still felt crushed.

“It’s not that I don’t like you – God, I think you’re great and sexy and fun – but we work together and I wouldn’t be able to handle it, you know.” Clara felt nauseous; the conversation wasn’t helping.

Toby looked crestfallen.
“I understand. But I really enjoyed last night.”

Clara smiled. Thank God, he wasn
’t going to argue. She kissed his cheek. “Toby, you’re the best.” And with that, she ran into the shower. When she returned, Toby asked if he could have a shower and he asked if she would mind them going to work together. The only thing Clara minded was that she was early and she couldn’t crawl back into bed for another hour. She ordered a cab, got dressed and tried to remember another time when she had gone to work so early.

She hoped that no one would notice that Toby was wearing exactly the same clothes as yesterday.

The day was harder than most. She refused to pick up the phone, refused to speak to anyone and when any of the senior guys asked her to do anything, she told him or her to “piss off,” “get screwed,” and “stick it up your arse.” The people on the desk knew to expect such outbursts from Clara. They were used to her mood swings. Even when Tim came to sit on the desk for a few hours, as he did most days, she scowled. At lunchtime, Clara announced that she felt ill and unless anyone wanted her to be sick all over the desk she had better go home. They all stared at her,
amazed
that someone so junior could behave like that and get away with it as she stalked out of the office.

Hailing a cab, Clara thought about getting home. She was feeling dreadful – tired, sick, and her head was exploding. As soon as she got home, she took a line of coke then went back to bed. As she fell into a weird, dream-filled sleep, she thought about nothing but the white powder flowing contentedly to her brain.

***

Tim was facing an onslaught in the office from Sarah Parks, one of his senior salespeople. She had worked at SFH for a long time and with many salespeople.
“Tim, Clara’s as good as useless. I mean, she swans in late every day, doesn’t have time to fill her clients in on the markets, even if she could. She gets Toby or Francine to do all her orders for her and she just chats, e-mails and looks decorative.” Sarah couldn’t bear to see Clara in such a good position: she gave working women a bad name.

Tim was silent. He was in a difficult position. He knew Clara wasn
’t the greatest salesperson in the world and he seriously doubted that she knew what an equity was, but she was Clara and he wanted her, and therefore he couldn’t do anything about it. “Sarah, you’re exaggerating. I’ve had loads of compliments about her from her clients. They really like her, and I think you’ll agree that that is the important thing. How many clients do you have who would go elsewhere just because they didn’t like you? It’s not based on anything else.” This was true. Clara’s clients loved her, and Tim knew that they would hate it if she was removed from their accounts.

“
Fine, but she’s not doing what she should be doing. Tim, I mean it, she’s really bad for team morale. If people see her getting away with murder, they’ll expect to do the same.”

Tim sighed. There was only so much logic he could argue with.
“I’ll speak to her.” As Sarah left, Tim knew he had no intention of speaking to Clara. It was important to him that her job was reliant on him. If she had been competent, his power would have been greatly reduced. This way he held all the cards.

He sat at his desk and remembered when he had first employed Clara. The managing director of the Private Client Division had called him and asked him if he had any secretarial vacancies. It was good timing, because his current secretary was leaving to travel the world. He had just requested that Human Resources find him a new one. When Phillip Reid told him that a client
’s sister wanted a job and it would be a great favour to him if Tim would consider her, Tim agreed to an interview.

James Hart looked after the family business and the family wealth. At thirty-two, he was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in England and he was the heir apparent to his father
’s empire, of which he was now mostly in control so that his parents could spend time at their various overseas homes. James was proving a great success. When Clara told her parents of her intention to get a job, they scoffed. Her mother said she should be finding a suitable boyfriend, and her father said that she was a rich party girl, and why did she need a job? “Clara, we didn’t send you to finishing-school so you could come out with ideas about getting a job, we sent you there to learn to cook.”

Clara didn
’t know why she wanted a job. She knew that she had no qualifications, that she couldn’t cook and that she was bored with her life. She liked the idea of putting on a suit and having somewhere to go during the day other than for lunch. She resented the way that her family treated her like an airhead. She hated her parents for having no expectations of her other than marriage; she hated herself for constantly proving them right. She always behaved like an airhead. She was crying when James found her. James and Clara had always been close, so it was natural for him to step in to protect his little sister. He told her he would use his contacts and help her to get a job in any way he could. Hence the interview with Tim Pemberton at SFH. Clara agreed to let James help her because she felt she had something to prove. She just had no idea how she was going to prove it on her own. Everyone saw Clara as a confident, beautiful bitch. If they had known the amount of times she cried
herself
to sleep, they would perhaps have thought more kindly of her.

When Clara walked into his office Tim nearly fell off his chair. She was so lovely, so gorgeous and so sexy. Her blonde hair curled over her face, her big blue eyes were hypnotising, her figure slim but curvaceous. Tim thought that if he were to describe his ideal woman, she would be Clara. She smiled, showing two rows of perfect white teeth; she shook hands, revealing lovely long nails; and she spoke to him in a cut-glass accent. She was heavenly.

After that the interview was a bit of a blur. Tim couldn’t help staring at her, managing to ask questions somehow but not listening to answers. The minute she left his office, he called Human Resources and instructed them to offer her a job. How she had gone from being his secretary to his mistress was a bit of a blur too. All he knew was that from the moment she had started working for him he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He was aware that her work wasn’t really up to scratch and that she was always late, but he was most aware of how much he wanted her. So much that, for a while, when he slept with anyone, from his wife to his prostitutes, he imagined Clara.

His amazement was great when he took the folder of mail she gave him and found a note from her asking him for a drink. Although he knew that he was attractive and successful and could have any woman he wanted, Clara had given him the impression that she wasn
’t interested in him. This had puzzled him: women normally fell at his feet. Tim had come a long way from his first job as a trainee stockbroker to managing director of SFH, and his rise was down purely to hard work and opportunism but he had never lost his disappointment at being from the wrong background. As his income grew he married Constance; an upper-middle-class girl whom, he hoped, would help him attain the status he craved. He did not marry for love; he did not fall in love. Tim Permberton was only in love with himself and his aspirations. As soon as the ink had dried on the marriage certificate he was having affairs with other women. Girls, both paid for and free, became his passion, as did cocaine. Tim believed in his own publicity. He was a sexy, successful man. A man who snapped his fingers and girls flocked to him. He wanted Clara, but he didn’t think she wanted him. When she made her approach, Tim’s belief in his infallibility was restored. Tim always got what he wanted. He arranged to meet her in a bar in Kensington, and he knew it was his lucky day.

Clara was late getting to the bar and Tim was nervous, although he wouldn
’t have admitted it. When she walked in, wearing a short, tight black dress and black heels, he nearly fell off his chair. She moved towards him and he hardened immediately. He had to have this woman.

And he did. He bought
them champagne; she told him how she loved working for him. He bought them oysters; she told him she wanted to be a salesperson. He bought more champagne; she told him she had wanted him from the first time they met. He took her back to her flat, where they made love several times before he went home to his wife.

The affair started quickly. Clara flattered him, serviced him and treated him like a king. In turn, he always bought her champagne, cocaine and, in the end, promoted her to salesperson because she begged
him to. Then she said that if he didn’t she’d have to end the affair. Clara’s logic was that if she was his secretary, having an affair with him was tacky. As a salesperson, although he would still be her boss, it was more acceptable. That was the word she had used. Tim didn’t want to give up Clara, so he promoted her.

He had swayed it with the board by reminding them that the family was a big private client. It was better than telling them the truth. She was promoted, but although the clients indeed loved her – especially the male ones – Clara didn
’t have a clue what the job involved, as Sarah had pointed out.

Tim looked at his watch. If he was lucky he could get out of the office early, see Clara for a couple of hours and be home in time for a late dinner. He picked up the phone to call his wife.

***

Clara was not proud of the way she
’d got her job but, then, she was never proud of herself. She didn’t think she had any value, apart from her body, so she used it. She knew she was no better than a whore; she didn’t know how to be better than a whore. Confidence was her defence mechanism; being rude and bitchy to others was the wall she hid behind. The humiliation she felt at the way she had come by her job was compounded by the degradation she felt with Tim.

Chapter Four

Ella went to the gym after work. Another good day, another profit; she felt that she had been born to trade. On the treadmill, minus Jim, she felt all the tensions of the day fall away. She ran for half an hour, showered and got changed. She said hello to Isabelle, the manager of the emerging markets sales desk, who had just finished changing into an immaculate white outfit and was brandishing a squash racket.

“
Ella, how are you?” Isabelle smiled.

“
Fine, Isabelle. You?” Ella bristled: Isabelle’s smile was even colder than Ella’s and this intimidated her. Isabelle was a successful manager at SFH, and Ella knew her by reputation as someone who would stamp on anyone who got in her way. She was thankful that she had never been involved professionally with Isabelle. Although they were both ambitious, Ella was not a corporate bitch. Isabelle’s heart was made of stone.

“
Oh, you know, the usual stress of being in our jobs. Anyway, I wanted to invite you to a conference about women in the City. I’m hosting it and, well, it looks like we’re going to get a good turnout We’ve got a number of female members of staff coming and I was wondering if you’d do a bit on trading.”

Ella smiled. This was the longest conversation she
’d ever had with Isabelle. “Sure, I’d love to.”

“
Great, I’ll get my useless secretary to send you a schedule. See you.”

“
Bye.” Ella said, to Isabelle’s departing back. As she left the gym, she hailed a cab and told the driver she was going to Camden Town.

Her friend Jackie had an amazing house there, bought when Camden was cheap and Jackie was in the first throes of success with her Soho restaurant. When Ella first went to the restaurant for a job as a waitress, she had seen the survivor instinct in Jackie and they had immediately become friends.

She had told Jackie a condensed version of her story, and had been surprised to get Jackie’s in return. Jackie had been only fifteen when she left home and moved in with a thirty-year-old man. She had been in love, he had been old enough to know better and her parents had been heartbroken. They still hadn’t forgiven her. The man had lost interest when she aged a couple of years, and left her. He had, however, left her with money. Her subsequent fight with her feelings had made her a successful businesswoman but, like Ella, her heart was hard.

Jackie met Ella with a hug and a kiss then ushered her into the house. They settled in the huge old purple sofa with a bottle of wine and began to catch up.

“How’s the dream job?” Jackie asked.

“
A dream.” Ella giggled. “You know, I can’t wait to get to work every day. I mean, I know you think I’m crazy, but here I am, trading millions of pounds, getting a huge buzz and a lot of respect, and I am totally in love with it.”

“
I do think you’re crazy. I, on the other hand, am fed up with slaving away in the sweatshop that is my restaurant. I’ve decided to hire a manager. I’m going to college.” Jackie beamed.

“
Get away. Shit, Jack, you’re amazing. What to study?”

“
English, can you believe it? I think I’m recapturing my youth.”

“
What, all twenty-eight years of you?”

“
Yeah, I know, but don’t forget, I’ve been twenty-eight since I was fifteen.” Jackie’s grey eyes clouded as they always did when she thought about her hard lesson in growing up.

“
Please tell me this isn’t a mad ploy to date the eighteen-year-olds you missed out on?” Ella teased.

“
Shit, I didn’t even think of that, I guess it must be.” Jackie laughed.

“
To be honest, Jack, I don’t think I’d care how old the bloke was, I just wish I had one.”

“
What you? No man could compete against your love affair with your job.”

“
I guess not. But it would be nice. Someone to hug, someone to ... well, you know, someone to talk to ...” Ella became dreamy.

“
Ella, stop. You sound like a sap.”

“Thank
s. Anyway, you’re probably right. I love my job so much. Who would have thought I’d change from a pint-pulling punch-bag into a City slicker?”

“
Well, not me, that’s for sure. Ella, do you still have nightmares?” Jackie did what she always did: now that the chitchat was over, she turned the conversation to more serious matters.

When Ella had walked into the restaurant, Jackie had been struck by how fragile she seemed. In front of her was a striking girl, who was tall and slim with long hair, yet who looked as if she would break if she was touched. She noticed the sadness in her.

When Ella told her story, Jackie felt nothing but sorrow. She remembered what it was like to be used by a man, and although Alan had never hit her, the mental scars with which he had left refused to heal. Ella’s mental state was bordering on the imbalanced. She couldn’t cope with being on the run although, rationalising it, Jackie decided that no one could point any blame at Ella. She encouraged her to start her new life, but knew that she was still exorcising the ghosts of the old one. Tony wouldn’t leave her head, so the nightmares had started.

Jackie knew they had got worse when Ella went to work for SFH. It made her so angry to see Ella
’s guilt when she was the victim. Jackie had become a friend, but she had also become a counsellor. She got Ella to talk, and she had listened, rather than judged. She had pieced together parts of Eloise’s story, and she had tried to rebuild the new Ella. That was why, when Ella had decided she had had enough of waitressing, Jackie had encouraged her in her pursuit of a job that neither of them thought she had a hope of getting.

Although Jackie knew that what she was doing was wrong, she had an even stronger feeling that she was saving Ella
’s life. She had been right. From the moment Ella had walked through the doors of SFH, she had been a different person. She didn’t find it easy but, then, she hadn’t worked in that industry before. She worked harder than she ever had in her life and proved herself. Jackie had nothing but admiration for Ella: she was one of life’s remarkable women.

“
Yes, but they’re getting better. I still have the one where Tony is dead and chasing me through the streets, and the one where I go to work and find Tony in the office with my boss. Although that’s something I think about when I’m awake too. I think it will take me a long time to get over it, don’t you?”

“
I’m afraid so, but, Ella, it’s been more than three years. Don’t you think it’s time to put him behind you?”

“
What if he’s dead?”

“
What if he’s not? For all you know, he could be alive and well and beating the hell out of some other poor woman. Christ, Ella, it’s time to move on. Call Sammy, find out the truth, and get yourself some friends, maybe another boyfriend. Listen, darling, I really think you need to start living.”

“
Jack, I can’t. I just can’t.” And with that, she burst into tears.

Jackie held Ella, the frightened, fragile Ella, and she knew that one day Ella would have to make that confrontation. She just prayed that Ella would be strong enough to cope.

***

Virginia could hardly carry Isabelle
’s dry-cleaning. She was weighed down with it as she struggled back to the office. She had barely had a chance to breathe all day, and she had had to run to the shop to collect the clothes just minutes before it closed. She was tired and out of breath when she handed it over, but she didn’t even have time to be annoyed when Isabelle failed to thank her. She was so busy arranging the conference and the lunch that all her other work was still waiting for her. Cursing again, Virginia prepared herself for a long night.

That evening, driving home at nine, all Virginia wanted was to shower and go to bed. Huddled like a child under her pale blue duvet, she wanted never to get up again. She felt so trapped and she didn
’t know how she would ever get out.

***

Tim didn’t think to call Clara, he just turned up at her flat. Clara was awake, although she had a headache and had been about to take a couple of sleeping pills then go to bed. She thought about not answering the door, but decided she would in case it was someone important.

She regretted the decision as Tim landed a sloppy kiss on her lips.
“I thought you’d like to hear about how many prostitutes I screwed last night.” He leered and Clara cringed inside. This was the game he always played before sleeping with her: he believed it turned her on.

Clara walked to the sofa, sat down and smiled her best smile. Once
, she had asked herself why she made herself so sexy for Tim, but she knew the answer really: she did it for the cocaine.

“
So tell me,” she purred.

“
Well, darling, I started with the redhead. I licked her boobs and she had an orgasm there and then. Then I fucked her. I moved on to the blonde girl. God, my stamina is unbelievable. Next week I’m going to sleep with both of them together and they’ll do a show for me, if you know what I mean. You should consider joining us.”

Tim smiled. Clara felt sick again.

“Well, Timmy, you’d have to be a very good boy before I’d do that for you.”

Tim scowled. Just as he thought he was in control, making her jealous, turning her on, making her want him, she always tried to snatch it back.
“I think it’s time you did as you were told. Get into the bedroom.” Tim used his sergeant-major voice, the one that Clara thought made him sound even more of an idiot than he was. However, she did as he said.

After an hour of sex, which involved foreplay, on Clara
’s part, then huffing and puffing, on Tim’s part, he collapsed on top of her and kissed her lips. As he put his tongue into her mouth Clara realised that this affair could not last for ever. Lying in his arms, she concentrated hard on not feeling sick, but she was sweaty and feverish.

“
You know I told you I’m thinking about leaving Constance,” Tim said. Clara was not in a fit state to deal with this.

“
Um,” she replied.

“
I’m not promising, but carry on looking after my needs the way you do and maybe, just maybe, I will.” He planted another kiss on her lips and went to the shower.

Clara got up, went to the kitchen and drank a glass of water. She tried to cool herself by dabbing her forehead with a damp cloth, but she was feeling dreadful. She went into her sitting room and picked up the wrap of cocaine that Tim had given her yesterday. She took a line, immediately felt better, and returned to bed.

Tim came out of the shower, put his clothes on.

“
Sorry I can’t stay but I have to go home and shag my wife,” he sneered as he kissed Clara goodbye.

As the cocaine settled into her body Clara felt much better, especially when she saw the two wraps that Tim had left on her bedside table. Thinking of his wife, who was about to be shagged – if he was to be believed – Clara couldn
’t help feeling sorry for the poor cow.