The Scarlet Web, Chapter One (standard:action, 2288 words)
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Jul 17 2002	Views/Reads: 3816/2422	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A vicious assault in a subway leaves a fifteen year old schoolgirl more emotionally scarred than physically. Years later, as a successful journalist she has to equate her distrust of the male species, with a growing fondness for a senior detective who is

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unlikely to try anything like that again for a while. In fact, the food 
and wine expert had since given her a wide berth. 

Rain had begun to sprinkle on the narrow East End streets as she
approached the Saffron offices at around two p.m. The earlier, bright 
autumn sunshine had given way to a weather front from the west, as 
grabbing her coat she hurried into a five storey building which also 
housed several other periodical magazines, governed by parent company, 
‘Combined News.' 

Foreman was the first person she encountered and she swept past
receiving barely a nod of acknowledgement but was content with that. 
She sprinted vigorously up the stairs, avoiding the available lift to 
the uppermost floor, whereupon she entered the editor's glass 
partitioned office without knocking. It wasn't a habit of hers. * Mary 
Todd had just completed a phone call as Shelley entered. She lowered 
her spectacles, allowing a mild look of annoyance to show itself to the 
blonde. 

‘Shelley dear, I do think you might announce your arrival.' ‘You mean
knock,' Shelley said bluntly, seating herself without invitation. 

‘Precisely.' Todd gazed at Shelley Summers, such a beautiful woman, she
thought, and yet such an offhand approach. Despite the expertise and 
flair Shelley had exhibited in her work, it was a surprise the woman's 
attitude hadn't landed her in serious trouble before now, but she 
harboured an uneasy feeling it might be just a matter of time. 

Nonetheless a smile crossed the older woman's face as she removed an
article from her desk drawer, ‘I'm pleased you're a little early, it 
gives me the opportunity to compliment you on your latest piece.' 
Sipping her tea from an ageing cup she read through it again, ‘You know 
the quality of your work is impressive.' 

Shelley focused on her editor, there was emphasis on the word “work.”
She thought Mary was taking a dig at her attitude. It wouldn't be the 
first time. ‘Meaning my approach isn't.' 

Todd opened her mouth to speak and closed it again without an utterance,
merely raising her brows. Shelley's features on travel contained a 
wealth of information on the history and geography of her selected area 
that was interesting and informative. It was finely balanced to capture 
and retain the interest of the reader, not boring them with too many 
facts and figures. As a result, her articles were warmly received by 
subscribers, but there was an ardour in the woman's writing that 
intrigued her. It intrigued her because the fervour, the flourish that 
she displayed so openly in print, was noticeably lacking in her own 
character. Many times she'd asked herself what lay behind the lovely, 
but austere mask that Shelley wore, what existed within the confines of 
her mind that seemed to divide her world in two. An aura seemed to 
surround her that suggested a lack of affection for any living thing. 
And the rare smiles she gave were just as enigmatic; they were 
captivating, spreading like lightning across her face, and yet all the 
while you sensed the warmth that spread from them would be frozen by 
the coldness which seemed to lay beneath. 

Todd replaced her cup on the saucer. She'd spent too long searching for
the right words in reply, and now, the slight raise of the eyebrows in 
an otherwise impassive face hinted Shelley's impatience. ‘Your 
approach, as you call it, isn't my concern,' she said with resignation 
in her tone. ‘It's the quality of your work that counts, and that, as 
always, is impressive. My dear if the readers are happy then so am I, 
but just remember that nobody's the worse for a few friends.' ‘I'll 
bear it in mind,' Shelley said, the tone of her reply giving Todd not 
the slightest confidence that her words would be heeded. 

She'd been about to leave when there was a sharp rap on the office door
and Carly Simpson poked her head through, ‘Oh Mary, just to say that 
Judy phoned, she'll be late for the meeting. She tried to call you 
direct but you were engaged.' ‘Did she say why?' Todd frowned, this 
wasn't the first time. ‘No, I'm afraid not.' Carly hovered in the 
doorway, ‘Am I eligible for this meeting, Mary?' 

Todd nodded her approval with a wry smile, she'd expected as much, and
for the first time she noted a measure of interest on Shelley's face at 
the intervention of the crime reporter. Shelley had swung round in the 
swivel chair, so that she was directly facing the newcomer, ‘So Carly 
Simpson, what wordly secrets do you expect to be unearthed?' The east 
ender cackled with laughter, Shelley managed a smile, her remark hadn't 
really been that funny, but one thing about Carly was her laughter. 
She'd always thought a crime reporter would be much more serious in 
nature. ‘Now, now,' Carly said, ‘I've enough work of my own to be going 
on with, but then you know I don't like to miss out on anything.' She 
raked a long finger over Shelley's shoulder, ‘Hey, you might like to 
see my latest article before it goes to press, we've got a few 
minutes.' Shelley shrugged, ‘Sure. Anything special about it?' For a 
second Shelley thought Carly's eyes darkened a touch, the smile had 
certainly faded, but she'd turned quickly away with a nod of deference 
to Mary Todd. Shelley jumped to her feet and followed her out the door, 
making no such gesture. Todd watched them go, a shake of the head at 
Shelley's manner, but still she had to smile. So different those two, 
Carly, tall, dark haired, all bustle and hustling gait, all arms and 
elbows, and then the fair haired Shelley, with her controlled stride, 
effortless and elegant, no unnecessary movements whatsoever. Todd was 
not immune to gossip, she knew Shelley was regarded as cold and 
detached, and she certainly exuded those questionable qualities, but 
still, she had her doubts. Driven, no doubt, by the fact that she had a 
basic fondness for the woman. Todd got to her feet and closed the door 
that Shelley had left open. *                                  *        
                        * Carly sifted haphazardly through the chaotic 
looking drawers, finally producing four foolscap of paper. She thrust 
them towards Shelley, ‘Here, take a look at this -' Shelley took the 
documents with a patent look of disinterest, but as she read through 
them she frowned, feeling the tension bubbling within her, feeling her 
blood rising. Her grip tightened on the papers, ‘It's really becoming 
that bad, is it?' ‘Afraid so,' Carly sighed, and practically prising 
the article from Shelley's grip, she knotted her brow. ‘Sexual assaults 
have hit an all time peak. Take these two cases, over the past week - 
one woman, the police think probably a prostitute, physically abused, 
mauled and left for dead, and right on its heels this -' she bent low 
so that the hem of her tiny black dress all but exposed her buttocks; 
Shelley looked away, showing off her long legs was one thing but she 
wondered whether Carly realised the extent to which she was displaying 
the rear of her anatomy. She thought of Ted Foreman. Finally Carly 
produced a photograph from her beanstalk tray, ‘Here, look at this, - a 
waitress, just an ordinary girl working in a night club trying to earn 
a living, then on her way home stalked, sexually molested and beaten 
up, the picture tells its own story.' But Carly's words had faded out 
as the grim picture took hold. Shelley's grip on it became so intense 
that her hand shook. ‘Shelley, Shelley are you okay ?' ‘What ?' But 
Shelley's senses whirled about her like dust mites in a storm. She was 
dimly aware of Carly shaking her, but she saw distant visions in her 
mind, distant and yet distinct, like a clear view through a tunnel. 
‘Here, sit down.' She became aware of Carly's arm around her shoulders 
and then she was through the tunnel. She shook her head, held it in her 
hands. ‘What? yes I'm fine. I'm sorry, something struck me for a 
minute, it's probably just the air in here. Air conditioning isn't all 
it's cracked up to be. Listen, do you mind if I photocopy your 
article?' ‘As long as you remember who's got copyright,' Carly said, 
smiling, ‘here, let me do it, you're as white as a sheet.' ‘No its 
okay, I'm fine now, I can manage.' Shelley made her way across to the 
photocopier, aware that Carly was a protecting step behind. ‘Listen, 
perhaps what you need is a stiff drink afterwards. I'm seeing a 
policeman, Chief Inspector Mike Eveson in the ‘Bird in Hand' after the 
meeting to see if I can prise out more information on this.' 

Shelley collected the printed item from the photocopier tray, ‘I suppose
I could come, although -' she felt awkward, a bit like playing 
gooseberry, ‘I mean I wouldn't want to be getting in your way, three's 
a crowd if you get my gist.' Carly giggled. ‘It's not like that, though 
he is rather nice, sometimes I wish-' she halted, blushing. ‘Go on,' 
Shelley smiled at her friend, ‘Don't keep me in suspense.' ‘No no, it's 
nothing. Just that I suppose I wish he'd lighten up a bit. He's so 
serious.' ‘Ah, so there is something there.' ‘I've told you no.' And 
this time Carly wasn't laughing. 


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