Pinstripes (4 page)

Clara tried not to panic as she thought about what she had to do. She couldn
’t have him all the time; she didn’t want to be with him at all for much longer. But, and it was a big but, she couldn’t give him up yet. Tim had three roles in Clara’s life. The first was as her boss, but that didn’t worry her: he couldn’t sack her for ending their affair – there were laws to prevent that. The second was as her lover, and not a particularly good one: as a lover, he was dispensable. The third was as her supplier of cocaine, good coke, and that was the one thing she couldn’t give up.

Clara put on a false smile.
“Well, I hope you have a good time, bad boy, and I’ll be at home alone for you whenever you want me. Oh, and by the way, as I’ll be lonesome, have you got a little something to keep me company?” Clara licked her lips.

As she got up to leave the office, she brushed past him and took a little package from him. She lingered near his hip for longer than necessary, and smiled at him.
“See you later, baby,” she cooed, as she left his office.

***

It was half past five and Clara was bored. She had e-mailed, surfed the Net and talked to a couple of clients, but she was just waiting for the moment that she and her powder would be united again. At six, she took the lift to the floor below, which housed the accounts department. She went to the ladies’ loo – she always felt too paranoid to use the one on her floor. As she chopped and lined up the white powder, Clara felt relief flood her body. After she had snorted her first two lines of the day, she felt as if she could conquer the world.

She left the loo,
smiled at the accounting staff who were staring at her, and returned to her floor. She practically flew through the doors and ran to her desk, where Toby sat looking anxious. “Are you ready, Toby? I’m absolutely dying for a drink.”

“
I’m definitely ready.” The panic Toby had felt that she might have changed her mind left him.

They went to Bertie
’s, the wine bar to which everyone from work flocked. It was large, with a light wooden floor and furniture to match, elegant, cool, and reflected the personalities of its clientele perfectly. Or, at least, the way its clientele saw themselves. It was enormously successful due to after-work business; it did not open at weekends.

They sat at a wooden table, Clara with a glass of champagne and Toby with a bottle of beer. Clara was chatty, a symptom of the coke, and she talked, while Toby drooled over her. She barely noticed him; she just talked at him, smiling, flirting and even touching his leg. It took all of Toby
’s strength to stop him fainting with lust. After a number of drinks, most of which Toby bought, and a few more lines of cocaine on Clara’s part, she made a decision. The most astounded person in the world was Toby Bradley as Clara jumped on him and kissed him.

In the taxi that took them back to Clara
’s flat, Toby willed it to go faster. He could not believe his luck. Here he was with a goddess, a woman most of the men on the floor felt was out of their league. He was twenty-eight; he was an experienced salesperson, yet he doubted his sophistication. Especially when he was with Clara. He knew as he kissed her in the back of the taxi, that this was like a dream for him and that it wouldn’t happen again. But as he fumbled with her left boob, he was determined to make the most of the best dream of his life.

Clara had stopped thinking at about half past nine. Now, as they approached her flat, she knew that she felt wonderful and she wanted to feel more wonderful. That meant she needed Toby. It was nothing personal, she just needed sex. When the need for sex took her over, Clara always submitted to it. It took her over a lot.

When the taxi drew up, she got out, walked to the door of her building and waited for Toby, who was paying the cab driver. She called the lift, and kissed him as they rode to her floor. When the door opened, Clara strode out with Toby panting behind her. She unlocked her front door and waited for Toby to enter. As soon as he was inside, she grabbed him and tore at his clothes. Off came the tie, the jacket and the shirt, then the shoes, the trousers and his boxer shorts. When he was naked, Clara ripped off her own clothes. Toby was rooted to the spot. She kissed, licked, teased until Toby could stand no more. Pushing her down on to the floor, just inside the front door, Toby finally found his balls and started making love to Clara.

Shortly afterwards they crawled into her bed, where Clara passed out. Amazed that he was actually in Clara Hart
’s bed, Toby fell asleep with a smile the size of London on his face.

Chapter Three

Ella walked into the office, looking forward to the day. She’d already forgotten the strange girl who had stared at her by the lifts. Flicking her screens, she saw that the markets were doing exactly what she had predicted. At close of morning business, it was looking like a promising day. The whole desk was in a good mood as they bantered, teased and chatted. Then Jeff, her boss and a managing director, rolled up. He was one of the most respected managing directors at SFH. He was young, dynamic and a hard worker. Ella had looked up to him from the moment she met him. “Ella, can I have a word?” he asked.

“
Sure” Ella replied, and followed him into his office.

“
What’s up?” she asked.

“
We have a junior, Johnny Rupfin, coming to join us next week. Now, I know you weren’t involved in hiring him, which was an oversight on our part, but I would like you to mentor him.” Jeff smiled. Ella did not. The thought of a trainee being her responsibility didn’t appeal to her. However, she knew that it was a forerunner to her management aspirations being met.

“
Who is he? Some kid fresh from university?”

“
He’s just passed his MBA, from Harvard. Smart kid, lots of brains, not sure about his balls – which, Ella, is why you have been asked to do this. You are our best trader, you know that, and you’ve got a bright future ahead of you here. We need you to pass some of your brilliance on to our youngsters.” Jeff laughed; so did Ella.

“
Right, fling him my way. I’ll soon find out if he’s got balls.” She laughed again as she left his office. Basking in the praise Jeff had given her, she forgot for a moment that she would have some youngster under her feet, and she forgot to be annoyed about it. After all, she had been a junior once.

Thinking back to how she had got here still made Ella feel as if it had all happened to someone else.

Four years ago her life could not have been more different. She lived in Manchester; she was engaged to Tony, the manager of the nightclub where she worked behind the bar. She had no qualifications, apart from a couple of GCSEs, and no real ambition. She was twenty-three. Her name was Eloise Butcher. She was happy.

As soon as Tony had put a ring on her finger, he started using his fists. Increasingly, Eloise was housebound, with bruises, black eyes and the occasional br
oken rib. He would take her to casualty if the beating had been particularly bad and the doctor, although suspicious, never did anything. Eloise didn’t do anything either. Tony was tall, broad, with dark blond hair and a lovely smile. He didn’t look like a woman-beater and he didn’t act like one at first, which is why Eloise had fallen in love with him.

When he became violent, she felt trapped. Even now she couldn
’t remember why she had stayed with him, and she couldn’t remember ever wanting to be with him. She knew that he had made her so weak that she lost the strength to leave. Her brother Sam was her saviour. He got suspicious and went to visit her at their flat. As she was covered in bruises, Tony sent him away. Sam waited until Tony had gone to work then went back. When Eloise refused to let him in, he broke down the door and carried his sister home.

Sam was a year older than his sister, but she was the most important person to him in the world. This had almost destroyed him. As they held each other, back in their parents
” home, Sam told Eloise what she would do. His plan was for her to leave Tony and Manchester, to escape and build a new life. Although this terrified her, she knew that her brother was right. As her parents fielded any attempts from Tony to get near her, Eloise and Sam plotted and planned. Sam, who had a couple of dubious connections, got her a driving licence, a birth certificate and a passport with the name Ella Franke on it. He arranged for some money so she would have enough to live on for a couple of months, and he bought her a one-way ticket to London. He also arranged for Tony to be taught a lesson. He paid some men to do to Tony what he had done to Eloise. They were supposed to make it look like a robbery at Tony’s nightclub, and Sam had asked them to give him a beating he wouldn’t forget. They did, but they went too far.

When the hospital called to tell Eloise that Tony was in a coma, Sam visited him with her, spoke to the police for her, and arranged for her to leave rather more quickly than she had intended. Although the police thought
it was a robbery gone wrong, Eloise knew the truth. Eloise left Manchester and Ella arrived in London.

Once over the initial shock and panic when she arrived in London, she felt stronger and better. Her only regret was that she didn
’t know if Tony was dead or alive and that she couldn’t see Sammy. She found a bedsit and a job as a waitress, and every night when she slept she had nightmares of Tony coming to get her.

At first she called Sammy every week just to tell him she was all right, but the phone calls became too painful, especially as there was no news of Tony. After a while she told Sammy she would stop phoning him and she would write to let him know she was all right. He agreed reluctantly, but argued that he should be able to contact her. Ella couldn
’t bring herself to give him her address or phone number. She failed to explain it to him, but to herself it was a punishment. By messing up her life as she had, and she still blamed herself, she now had to pay. And paying meant that she had to cut herself off from the person she loved most in the world: Sammy. Eloise Butcher had a family; Ella Franke had no one.

One day she picked up the London paper and saw an article about how too few black people worked in the City. Ella did not know what they meant by
‘The City’ but she read on and was hooked. The description of trading appealed to her; she fell in love. Although it was a crazy idea, she discussed it with her friend and boss, Jackie. Jackie saw this as an opportunity for Ella to put her past behind her and look to the future, so they began to plan. Jackie found someone who could get her a fake university degree certificate and then they set about reinventing her CV. She substituted PR for bar work, and management consultancy for waitressing. References were obtained, and as she hadn’t given phone numbers, whoever she applied to had no way of checking other than by writing. Setting up the deception had been easy but costly. It had taken all the money Ella had. Ella sent this embellished CV to Serena Dalton at SFH, the woman who had commented in the article. She was sure that it had all been a load of bull, and in a matter of days Serena had invited her to interview.

When Serena saw that Ella was not only black but also a black female, she had almost had an orgasm. The Equal Opportunities Board would love her. Serena had been given a hard time over the article in the paper, which had practically accused SFH of racism. Although the press office had sent out statements denying this and reiterating SFH
’s equal-opportunities policy, they had told Serena to go and get some ethnic minorities. Well, now she had Ella, and maybe Ella could save her life. Ella’s interview was short and not terribly difficult; within two weeks she had met a number of managing directors, all of whom wanted to prove the press wrong, and was offered a position as junior trader.

Ella had prepared for her interviews with meticulous research, and knew a great deal about the field; any questions she was asked she answered confidently. Everyone was impressed. At the time of the interviews, Ella believed she was all the things she had said she was, educated, bright and ambitious. She wasn
’t Eloise the punchbag; she was Ella the girl with potential.

Human Resources was keen for Ella to start, especially as she had been so well liked; they skimmed over the usual checks that they did on all their employees. Luckily for Ella, they had collected the references, but they neglected to check with the university; they decided that the degree certificate was enough.

Although she knew that what she had done was wrong, Ella couldn’t help but think she should be forgiven for it. Tony had abused her for years. She had had to leave her family and friends because of him. He was a woman-beater, the worst type of coward. The cowardly man who can only hit those too vulnerable to hit back. Ella knew that Sam had been right to teach him a lesson. He had deserved it; he deserved worse. However, the implications still scared her: the implication that she or Sam might get into trouble. She rationalised her deceit in getting her job by telling herself that she deserved a good life. She also knew that while getting the job had been easy, keeping it would not be. When she walked through the doors of SFH, she knew one thing: if she was no good, she would be fired within minutes.

Ella was ever conscious of her rocky foundation. And the fear of Tony that had once dominated her had now been replaced by a fear of her losing her wonderful new life.

***

Virginia was hung over. For the first time that she could remember, she felt like throwing her alarm clock across the room when it went off. She crawled out of bed, her head pounding. Instead of putting the kettle on, she pulled a bottle of water out of the fridge and, another first for her, drank straight from it. She then hauled herself into the shower.

As she dried herself, she dropped the towels on the floor. She pulled on a pair of grey woollen trousers and a jumper, ignoring the suit and the crisp white blouse that lay waiting for her. She had another drink of water before she left the flat. She wasn’t sure if she should drive – she wasn’t likely to be over the limit, but it was still more of a risk than Virginia liked to take – but she jumped on the scooter and drove to work. The cold air helped to clear her head, but it did nothing to improve her mood.

She had to wait ages for the lift. She saw Ella, the black trader from her floor, standing next to her, tapping her foot impatiently. Virginia couldn
’t help but stare. She knew that Ella was one of the best traders at SFH, and longed to ask her how she did it. Ella sensed that she was being stared at and looked Virginia in the eye. Virginia nodded; Ella tipped her head slightly and looked away. Then the lift came.

Today, the quiet hum of the screens on the trading floor seemed too loud to Virginia. The flashing lights made her feel as if she was in a cheap disco. She grabbed a cup of water and a cup of coffee, and marched up to her desk. She decided that she might as well do her filing. She finished it just as the office was filling up. The people on her desk said good morning to her, but Virginia just nodded. She had had enough of being nice to these morons who gave her grief. She couldn
’t understand how, when all she wanted was peace and quiet, she was busier than ever.

She felt a chill run down her back and she turned to see Isabelle standing behind her.
“Hi,” Isabelle said, as if she couldn’t quite remember who Virginia was. “Have you got a second?” Virginia picked up her notepad and followed Isabelle into her office. “Right, I’ve got a lot on at the moment, and I need you to get these things done quickly. I hope you understand.” Isabelle sounded even more bitchy than usual.

Virginia guessed it was another of her moods. Isabelle seemed to have bad moods most of the time. The only person she ever took them out on was Virginia. Virginia nodded; speaking would only give Isabelle more ammunition.

“First, I want a private room in a restaurant for Tuesday the seventeenth at lunchtime. Choose the restaurant, somewhere classy. I mean my version of classy, not yours. I do not want to entertain my clients in Pizza Hut. We are hosting a lunch for thirty people. The names are on this list. I also need the invitations printed and out by the end of this week. I can leave you with that. Standard invites. Put on them ‘sFH Emerging Markets Equities is delighted to invite whoever to lunch,’ you know the sort of thing. Then I am hosting a conference for women in the City – you know, to encourage more women to get ahead. I want all female professional employees invited, so you’ll need to get a list from Personnel. By professional I mean all level four and above, but I’m sure you know that already. Then I need invitations to go out – here, I’ve written a blurb – and people for both events need to RSVP to you. You need to get lists drawn up, and give me final numbers by the end of next week. Oh, the conference will be on the twenty-fourth, and I need the big conference room booked. Right – oh, here are lists of meetings I want you to arrange, including rooms, then ensure my calendar is accurate. Also, I want some brochures on Barbados, only luxury resorts, of course. Here are my dry-cleaning tickets. I’ve paid for it, so I need you to collect it for me today.” Isabelle still didn’t look at her.

“
Right,” Virginia said uncertainly. Although she’d written everything down there was so much to do. Her head pounded even more.

“
Oh, and don’t fuck anything up. If you do I’ll fry your sulky head.” Isabelle looked at her coldly and dismissed her. Not only was the workload unfair, especially the personal chores, but since they had had their ‘chat’, Isabelle had been even nastier to her. Virginia walked back to her desk scowling. She was close to tears.

Virginia
’s place at Canterbury University hadn’t made her parents happy. They would only have been happy with Oxford or Cambridge but Virginia, who was studying economics, had looked forward to going there. She packed her suitcase, bade farewell to her parents and Coventry, and went to Kent.

Her life as a student was a little subdued. She joined the Economics Society and made friends with people who seemed to share the same interests. They went out together and became a clique. To the trendy people and the sports stars, this little group was known as
‘the spods”, because they put study before sex, museums before beer. They were not proper students.