Sunflowers & Sins

Chapter 2

It was not like her at all. She realised she was shaking a little.

Oh but...she was so pleased because it was really not like her; it was out of character, however, a small glass of wine and the attentions of her newly acquired pup with large, sad eyes - Cleo, she had named her - beckoned at home.

Through the front door and there she was, little tail wagging vigorously; she picked her up giving her a tickle then put her back down while dumping her handbag on the table to get out her phone to let Jessie know that she was back. There would be no answer...there never was. She'd still be in bed.

She opened her bag. The first thing she saw in the handbag was her unopened bar of KitKat.

. . . . . .

Back in the cafe, pandemonium broke out. The elderly gentleman shouted out loud, automatically thrusting himself backwards in his chair away from the attack, juice dripping from his face as he spluttered and gasped. His movements had propelled his chair back just as it began to topple...the chair hovering at the point of neither falling one way – or the other. But his flailing hands and legs tipped the balance and over he went backwards with an almighty crash sending other cafe chairs flying, his legs overturning the table.

For one very brief moment there was utter silence in the cafe before shrieks rang out and several people rushed to his aid...he was lying partly on his side gasping, asking....

'What happened - why did she do that? What did I do?'

No one noticed the lift doors closing.

Then the horrible, unmistakeable sign of an encroaching disaster...he started to clutch his chest, gasping. Voices rang out...

'999 somebody – quick.'

'First-Aider,' another voice shouted.

But it was all to no avail - within one hour, our elderly gentleman was dead...never even made it to the hospital despite the best efforts of the paramedics who had quickly turned up.

The police were called. CCTV was scoured but no actual coverage of the incident was found, only the image of a women leaving the store downstairs whose face was partially covered by a scarf, wearing glasses – and pushing a child in a small pram...along with many other shoppers with their prams and buggies. Neither were the police too impressed with the department store's poor-quality CCTV – in black and white! A news item, with pictures, was put out in the 'locals' the next day asking for help in identifying the mysterious woman...without any luck.

The authorities soon traced the gentleman's next of kin – a son, who did not live locally but nevertheless arrived at the hospital within two hours. He just stood there quietly weeping by the bed holding his father's still-warm hand.

The usual questions began to come quick and fast when he eventually managed to compose himself.

'An altercation - what in the cafe in a department store...how is that possible?' he had asked. When told that witnesses had seen this argument - with a 'youngish' woman - he had then asked the police, 'Who was it – do we know? Why didn't she help him?'

He was told that she had left before he 'took bad', as the copper described it, but in any case, they were at that moment trying to trace her, but details were scant.

'Cold-hearted b***h,' he had muttered to the policeman in charge….and then to himself - 'If I find out who she is I'll, I'll....bloody strangle her.' His dad was a gentle, pleasant old soul who had never hurt anybody. Now he was trying to picture the scene...and what must have been going through his mind after the drink was thrown at him...I mean, why had she done that? His thoughts eventually coalesced as he wondered how he could to find out who the woman was. He just wanted to know why she had attacked his father. Why? What on earth could have happened? However, revenge began to creep into his dark mood the more he thought about it. In all probability the woman was local so he would use his contacts and call in some favours to track her down. To complicate matters, the police had informed him that at the same time as that incident took place, a g**g of shoplifters had been active on the lower levels of Lattins .

. . . . . .

Eve stared at it for five seconds - the untouched bar of KitKat in her handbag – mortified – a momentary feeling of acute embarrassment. Her mouth dropped open as she thought back to the cafe.

'Oh my God...the poor man. Oh, I feel so terrible...I'm embarrassed,' she mouthed out loud. How did I get that so wrong she wondered? Probably all the shopping hassle – still – no worse than her soaking at the hands of that taxi and the puddle, but I do hope he's alright. Must think I was deranged.'

She became unsettled once more – that little nagging at the back of her mind; just have to keep it quiet – try and put it out of her mind but I'm sure he'll get over it she hoped...and then wondered, 'What must he be thinking right now?'

By this time, nothing.

Dear reader, she did not realise that this mistake, this mental aberration and out-of-character behaviour was to come back and play havoc with her life – and the lives of those around her.

Eve Considers...

Miss Evelyn (Eve) Barnswell of Barnswell Holdings considered the situation; her cousin, her 'troublesome' cousin, as she was often reminded had promised to mend her ways if... if she had a proper job to settle down to, thus providing at least a steady income.

But who would employ her, who would employ Miss Jessica (Jessie) Curzon? She had been 'let go' so many times from various jobs and on occasion, simply sacked for not turning up to work for days at a time. It was usually down to 'having a good time' - a combination of booze, a spliff or three...the result always the same - totally unreliable, a complete lack of concentration coupled with an unwillingness to see her situation for what it was – a continuing spiral, always downwards; and from one dead-end job to another. Nor did her potty-mouth help. Oh yes, if there were boundaries to cross, she'd find them and cross them.

'It's alright for you,' she would complain to Evelyn... 'You're a rich b***h – loads of money your dad left you, big house, no worries, swank car!'

'Swank?' queried Evelyn. 'My little run-around?'

'Well...new then.' These outbursts usually followed a period on the bottle; afterwards she would beg forgiveness. 'I just need a proper chance,' she would wail. 'Can't you find me a job in your little empire?'

The empire of Barnswell Holdings .

Evelyn had heard her business called many things...but an empire? Not likely, not in her books.

Jessie's only saving grace was her face. Pretty...probably too obviously pretty, a face and body that turned heads whenever she walked into a room, but that was also in Eve's opinion, part of Jessie's problem because she did not know how to deal with her physical assets responsibly; admiring glances, a drink or two and she was 'away'! It was that beckoning but dangerous glance of hers that reeled men in – of all ages.

The company she kept for some reason she always gravitated towards those that had an 'edge' – those that did not live or abide by the rules...always pushing it. Rebellious. If it had been the Fifties, she would have been right there alongside James Dean ....or propping up the Jukebox in some motor bike cafe. As she got older, she was often found slumped-out in one of those smoking dens with empty bottles everywhere – oblivious. Eve deduced that Jessie always seemed to have something missing from her brain – some vital piece of social equipment which would have told her when she was going too far. Or being taken advantage of. Eve's dad had said quite bluntly that Jessie behaved like a first-class harlot - 'Don't get involved with her Evelyn – she's just trouble from what I hear.' And once or twice, Jessie had caught the tail-end of some derogatory remarks she knew had been aimed at her...a conversation would dry up as she approached. Then there were the many times of sneering disdain Jessie had seen and heard, that usually emanated from Eve's mother which, again, Jessie picked up upon many times.

'What a haughty, smug b***h,' Jessie said to herself. And her opinion of Evelyn's mother she extended to Eve but in a more subtle way because Jessie knew that her prudish cousin was perhaps someone she could get along with if only to take advantage of her good nature at some point...and one day, she would - payback for all those family sleights and 'holier-than-thou' looks...just another spoilt brat with money who didn't smoke, didn't go out....just didn't have fun. Boring. 'My payback will be my looks,' she thought to herself. 'She can never compete with the goods.'

Nevertheless, there was a deep vein of jealousy that ran in Jessie's blood. Yes, they had crossed swords on occasion and Eve had to admit to a small but grudging slice of envy of Jessie's female assets, but kept her counsel, while Jessie, unusually for her, quietly simmered.

You see, reader, Jessie was one of those creatures that never forgot a slight or insult...she just stored them away for the future – 'Just you wait, I'll get even.' But just as quick she could revert straight back to some form of civility which made her both dangerous – and fascinating. Eve couldn't quite make out how to deal with Jessie sometimes and always forgave her.

But Jessie's green-envy store was growing...the reckoning will be huge.

Her folks had despaired and would often ring Eve – as a last resort – to go and extract their wayward offspring from some pit of a dwelling.

'Eve – could you please go and pick up Jessie?' they would beg. Or – 'Can you look after Danny for a few hours...?' She felt contaminated just walking into Jessie's various hang-outs, and the looks Eve attracted - those glances from the same dead-beats that seemed forever present around her cousin – these same unwashed dead-beats who would leer at her, blow kisses often accompanied by cat-calls and other crudities, she would absorb all these but good job they were usually too legless to do anything. She dreaded these pleading calls from Jessie's parents...... And of course, there was young Daniel; who looked after him? The usual…… ‘Well that’s what grandparents are for,’ Jussie’s respond, without any embarrassment.

However, Eve had pondered.

Because Jessie was kin, and fed up with the antics of her wastrel cousin and the 'rescue' calls, Eve had come to the conclusion that she should, would, offer Jessie a post in the company starting at the bottom, as a clerk – 'paid for out of my own pocket' she would remind her cousin - and the Board.

Eve was a caring person...she was that sort of person, so often worried about her cousin finishing up as some moll, or laid out on a slab somewhere, therefore a job close by with strict controls offered a solution.

'OK Jessie, I'll take you on – but under my conditions...strict conditions,' she had said later. Consequently – and after a crash course, brushing up on forgotten secretarial skills, Jessie eventually became ensconced as her personal secretary where Eve could keep an eye on her. There were a couple of scares, one such when Eve had to suddenly disappear at 10 a.m. one morning to dig Miss 'Wayward' out of bed, after all, Eve was the boss and could make excuses...

'Just want to make sure she's okay following her dental treatment...' she would mutter on the way out, cursing.

However, and surprisingly thought Eve, Jessie knuckled down well. As a bonus, the occasional lunch-time drink seemed to cement Jessie into the small group who frequented the popular drinking establishment - they could all watch over her.