was much larger in the bum than Hailey, who usually wore it – and the glasses and pins in the bun pinched uncomfortably, but after she’d slipped on the sensible mid-heeled patent shoes and took in the result, Jessica had to admit she looked nothing like her real self. And certainly, didn’t appear to be a person who could break into a sprint at the first sign of trouble.
Putting the hoodie and flats she was wearing into a carrier from an exclusive shop on Bond Street (provided by Rita), Jessica held tightly to the pale blue shopper (also provided by Rita), and marched resolutely from the loos.
Here it goes.
Two leather coats coming up, and two hundred pounds guaranteed.
It was easy.
On paper.
CHAPTER NINE
THE SHOP WAS LARGE enough to have the guarantee of several shoppers milling about at one time, but small enough not to have constant CCTV surveillance and a security guard on the door. Leather Look London was, according to Hailey (because Jessica didn’t have a clue), the place to get a stylish piece of leatherwear, which meant that the prices were hugely inflated. If you owned a Harley Davidson and only rode it on the weekends or for show, this was the shop for you.
Walking in, Jessica was immediately accosted by a perky sales assistant. How can these shop girls be so ‘up’ on a Monday? ‘Hi there? Looking for a gift?’
Feeling affronted and more than a little annoyed that the girl couldn’t see from her face that Jessica was only in her early thirties, she reminded herself that the disguise was working. Being pissed off that people bought the deception was counterproductive. But for someone to believe, without even a second glance, that she was early sixties . . . ? The disguise is working, just get on with it.
‘Presents for my granddaughter and grandson, actually,’ Jessica replied, smiling, the well-rehearsed lies rolling off her tongue.
‘Right,’ the shop assistant reacted as if stung, sensing a commission. Poor thing. ‘For proper use, or fashion purposes?’
‘Fashion. They’ve given me the style numbers, if that helps?’ Jessica passed over a card on which Chelsea had printed the details of the two required items. There was no point in stealing the wrong items – the Club had to return any cash received for them, and couldn’t resell them elsewhere, in case they were rumbled with stolen goods.
‘Right, yes. Says here you need a size 8 and a 10 in the bomber. Come with me.’ She led the way to a rack near the registers at the back and stopped at a well-alarmed rack of brown leather jackets. They were dotted with patches from NASA and the like. ‘Size 10, here we go.’
Jessica expected her to offer to take it off the chains, but the girl stood there expectantly.
‘Could I try it on, do you think? And the other one, too.’
The girl blinked. ‘Really? You?’
‘Just for sizing, dear,’ Jessica said, playing the part of a granny. ‘If it fits me, it fits them, you see.’
So the girl asked Jessica to wait in the fitting rooms and said she’d bring both jackets. ‘Oh no, it’s okay. I’ll try them on at the counter.’
Without a second thought the girl took the items off the heavy, locked chains and Jessica slid the first, the size 8, over her own jacket. She cast an eye around the counter, just like Frieda had shown her. Wait until it’s really busy, then make your move . She fiddled about, looking at the lining, checking the pockets, until the other sales assistant, a boy, went into the stock room. At the front of the store, the security guard was checking out the backside of a young girl in shorts, who was reaching up for a leather vest.
Now.
Taking off the garment, she remarked, ‘This one might be a bit small for my granddaughter – she’s quite tall, you know. You wouldn’t have a size 10 in this, would you, dear?’
The sales assistant, eager to make a commission, raced off, and Jessica took her chance, going up to the security guard with the two
Putting the hoodie and flats she was wearing into a carrier from an exclusive shop on Bond Street (provided by Rita), Jessica held tightly to the pale blue shopper (also provided by Rita), and marched resolutely from the loos.
Here it goes.
Two leather coats coming up, and two hundred pounds guaranteed.
It was easy.
On paper.
CHAPTER NINE
THE SHOP WAS LARGE enough to have the guarantee of several shoppers milling about at one time, but small enough not to have constant CCTV surveillance and a security guard on the door. Leather Look London was, according to Hailey (because Jessica didn’t have a clue), the place to get a stylish piece of leatherwear, which meant that the prices were hugely inflated. If you owned a Harley Davidson and only rode it on the weekends or for show, this was the shop for you.
Walking in, Jessica was immediately accosted by a perky sales assistant. How can these shop girls be so ‘up’ on a Monday? ‘Hi there? Looking for a gift?’
Feeling affronted and more than a little annoyed that the girl couldn’t see from her face that Jessica was only in her early thirties, she reminded herself that the disguise was working. Being pissed off that people bought the deception was counterproductive. But for someone to believe, without even a second glance, that she was early sixties . . . ? The disguise is working, just get on with it.
‘Presents for my granddaughter and grandson, actually,’ Jessica replied, smiling, the well-rehearsed lies rolling off her tongue.
‘Right,’ the shop assistant reacted as if stung, sensing a commission. Poor thing. ‘For proper use, or fashion purposes?’
‘Fashion. They’ve given me the style numbers, if that helps?’ Jessica passed over a card on which Chelsea had printed the details of the two required items. There was no point in stealing the wrong items – the Club had to return any cash received for them, and couldn’t resell them elsewhere, in case they were rumbled with stolen goods.
‘Right, yes. Says here you need a size 8 and a 10 in the bomber. Come with me.’ She led the way to a rack near the registers at the back and stopped at a well-alarmed rack of brown leather jackets. They were dotted with patches from NASA and the like. ‘Size 10, here we go.’
Jessica expected her to offer to take it off the chains, but the girl stood there expectantly.
‘Could I try it on, do you think? And the other one, too.’
The girl blinked. ‘Really? You?’
‘Just for sizing, dear,’ Jessica said, playing the part of a granny. ‘If it fits me, it fits them, you see.’
So the girl asked Jessica to wait in the fitting rooms and said she’d bring both jackets. ‘Oh no, it’s okay. I’ll try them on at the counter.’
Without a second thought the girl took the items off the heavy, locked chains and Jessica slid the first, the size 8, over her own jacket. She cast an eye around the counter, just like Frieda had shown her. Wait until it’s really busy, then make your move . She fiddled about, looking at the lining, checking the pockets, until the other sales assistant, a boy, went into the stock room. At the front of the store, the security guard was checking out the backside of a young girl in shorts, who was reaching up for a leather vest.
Now.
Taking off the garment, she remarked, ‘This one might be a bit small for my granddaughter – she’s quite tall, you know. You wouldn’t have a size 10 in this, would you, dear?’
The sales assistant, eager to make a commission, raced off, and Jessica took her chance, going up to the security guard with the two
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