Pinstripes Read Free

littered the floor. She grabbed the last pair of tights in the drawer and prayed that they were whole. Her prayers were answered. She went to the wardrobe and pulled out her last clean suit, a navy blue pinstripe skirt and jacket. She made a mental note to find her dry-cleaning tickets as she hauled herself into it. She pulled a brush through her long, matted blonde hair as, on cue, the buzzer went. She grabbed her coat and bag and ran to pick up the intercom. “Hello,” she said, knowing who it was.
    “ Taxi,” a gruff voice replied. Her chariot had arrived.
    The driver looked familiar; he had probably taken her to work thousands of times, or taken her somewhere, she was never sure. As she settled into the back seat she pulled her trusty compact out of her Prada handbag and applied her makeup like an expert. Clara had never quite got the hang of public transport, as her taxi firm had observed. Once she had put on her face, she grabbed her purse from her bag, counted out the fare and, as the cab pulled up outside the office of Seymour Forbes Hunt, she was ready.
    She winked at the cab driver as she walked away and he smiled. She knew she still had ‘the charm’. Clara had discovered ‘the charm’ at an early age: not the brightest child in the world, she had used it to get her through prep school, her strict boarding-school, finishing-school and eventually to her job in sales at SFH. It always got her what she wanted, and allowed her to break every rule in the book to do so.
    It wasn ’t that she wasn’t gorgeous, everyone thought she was. She had long blonde hair, pretty blue eyes, sweet lips and a figure to die for. But Clara knew how to make the most of her looks. She dressed to kill – skirts were always short, tops showed just a hint of cleavage: makeup emphasised her good points and hid the bad. Clara was an expert in making the most of what she’d got, and although she had more than most, she made herself desired by practically every man she met.
    As she waited for the lift, she thought of Tim. What time had he left her bed? She didn ’t remember him going, but she knew that at some point after she passed out, he would have slunk home to his wife. She also knew that he would already be in the office, at his desk, wearing his immaculate suit that would have been laid out for him by his immaculate wife.
    Ch rist, if I was as organised as his wife, I’d make a much better mistress, Clara thought as she climbed into the lift, which would take her to begin her day.
     
     
    Chapter Two
     
    When Ella got to work, she could tell it was going to be a busy day. The salespeople were on the phone, collecting information; the traders were reading research. Ella picked up the report that the researchers prepared every morning and flicked through the market predictions. As soon as the markets opened, she checked her screens, watched the prices jumping and felt an adrenaline rush as she prepared to trade.
    She checked her positions and was happy that her trading book was as it should be. Then she called her favourite broker, Danny, and proceeded to sell a number of stocks she had bought cheap on Friday, which had upped in value that morning. After working her positions for the first hour, Charles, one of the sales-guys called over to her: “Ella, can you get me a price in Orchid Corp for a million shares?”
    “ Buyer or seller?” Ella shouted back, checking the screens.
    “D unno, he wouldn’t open,” Charlie replied.
    It was the response that Ella expected: clients never said if they were a buyer or seller, there was only so much information they felt a trader needed. Ella flipped a coin in her head and guessed that the client was probably a buyer. She shouted back her price.
    “I’ll buy at twenty-five or sell at fifty cents higher for up to five hundred thousand. I’m happy to start like that and work the balance if you still want a million.” She waited as she watched Charlie speak with his client.
    “