Capital Sins Read Online Free PDF

she produced the key
and inserted it into the lock. As the door opened, she looked back at Connie
again.
    'New 'ere, are ya ?'
    'Yes.'
    The girl
nodded knowingly. 'Thought I ' adn't seen you about. Did you want somethin '?'
    'I heard
noises, I wondered what was happening.'
    The girl,
who couldn't have been more than nineteen, giggled.
    'Oh, that.
I were only kissing Arthur goodnight. He had to make a quick getaway, sudden
like, when we ' eard Ma Withers coming, the old bat. I
think he must've fallen over somethin ' on 'is way
out. Didn't mean to wake you up, kid.'
    'You
didn't, I wasn't sleepy anyway.'
    As Connie
looked at her, the girl suddenly seemed to realise what she looked like. She
reached delicately up to her right eye and pulled a lump of clogged black
mascara off her eyelashes, bringing out two or three lashes attached to it.
    'Better get
this gunge off,' she declared cheerfully. 'Bad for the skin.'
    'OK, it was
nice speaking to you.' Connie had just turned, about to go back into her room
when she felt a tug at her sleeve.
    'Listen,
kid, if you ain't tired, why don't you come into my
room and keep me company, we'll ' ave a nice chat? I can't never sleep this early anyway ... that is, if you wanna .'
    Connie
grinned at her. 'Sure, why not. My name's Constance, Constance Sands.'
    The girl
led the way, speaking over her shoulder. 'Constance, eh? Posh kinda name, that. What d'yer mates call you? Con?'
    'Connie.'
    'Right,
Connie it is. And I'm Tilly ... Matilda really, but
don't let on.' She gave a conspiratorial grin.
    Connie
smiled, rather liking the girl.
    'Park yer bum somewhere, kid, while I scrub
this lot off.'
    Tilly flung her bag carelessly on the bed, along with her coat, and Connie moved them
aside as she curled herself on top. She looked around. The room was the same
size as her own but, instead of the walls being bare, as were hers, Tilly had pinned up pictures and posters of pop stars.
There was a record player in one corner and stacks of records nearby. The room
looked very lived in, as if its occupier had been
settled there for years – and it was in a mess. Clothes and magazines were
strewn all over the place.
    'I like the
way you've done it up,' Connie said, as her eyes wandered from one article to
another.
    'Ta.' Tilly was intent on her face. The bin by the dresser,
already full of rubbish, was ignored by her as she dropped dirty pieces of
tissue paper on to the floor, where they lay black from the remnants of her eye
make-up and greasy with removing cream.
    Then Connie
noticed a small gas ring in another part of the room.
    'Are you
allowed to cook in here?' she asked.
    'I make meself the odd cup'pa now and
then. When I got a bloke up here, I've found he usually fancies a coffee after
it.'
    Connie
wasn't so naive that she had to ask was 'it' was.
    'Do you
want me to make us a cup of coffee now, Tilly ?' she
asked, wanting something to do besides stare at Tilly undressing.
    'Great. The
jar's in the cupboard, there ... '
    When Connie
had made their coffee, Tilly had finished and was
already in her nightie .
    'Thanks,
kid.' Tilly took the cup. They sat on the bed and
eyed each other. Tilly spoke first. 'Tell me about
yourself, Connie.'
    'Not much
to tell.'
    'Go on,'
the other said scornfully. 'There must be somethin '.'
    Connie
couldn't help laughing at the girl's expression, and suddenly Tilly grinned back at her.
    'I know you
look like you're an angel,' she went on. 'But you must've something juicy to
tell about yourself. Everybody has.'
    'Most of my
past is pretty boring. I've been shunted around from one foster home to another, and spent most of my life in an orphanage for
unwanted and cast-off kids. Nobody wanted to adopt me, guess they had enough
kids of their own. Oh, sometimes it wasn't bad, but I could never get used to
having other people's old clothes and toys. Nothing to really
call my own.'
    'Didn't you ' ave any fun at all?'
    'Occasionally. It wasn't like we were at a convent, or anything