Read Online The Shoplifting Mothers' Club by Geraldine Fonteroy - Free Book Online
Authors: Geraldine Fonteroy
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jackets. A variation on the theme Frieda had taught her, but suitable under the circumstances.
‘Excuse me. Could I possibly check these for colour outside, dear? My grandchildren are extremely fussy and I don’t want to have to bring them back.’
Theoretically, the colour of leather was hardly something you’d bother to ‘check’, but why else would she need to look at them under natural light? Jessica’s heart was pounding like a jack-hammer, but she forced herself to stay in character. Cool and calm, with the gravitas of the elderly.
The security guard told her to go ahead – he still had one eye on the bum of a gorgeous young girl. Taking on a shuffle, and mumbling to herself about colours, Jessica suddenly found herself outside the shop. Alone, except for about a thousand pounds worth of leather.
Now what?
Run. Run you fool!
It wasn’t too late to give up on this idea, she told herself, feet stubbornly rooted to the spot. Nothing had been stolen yet. There was still time to reject the deal with the devil and take the clothes back inside.
But what about that Visa bill?
Run. RUN!
And so she ran, shoving the jackets into the pale blue designer shopping bag as she went.
Ten seconds seemed like ten minutes, which was how long it took to get to the border of the next store. Sure that the security guard was hot on her heels, Jessica raced into the first place she came to. Not the café, as planned, but a large discount outlet place which, mercifully, had toilets to the rear. Unluckily, it also had those ubiquitous security barriers at the front door, which began sounding as soon as she walked in.
That store’s guard – a large woman with a mean expression and impressive girth – walked slowly towards her, and Jessica was conscious she remained in full view of the street. Moving to a rail of unattractive tank tops, she began flicking through them, waiting for someone to manhandle her into a small room and beat her to a pulp. The female guard approached, and Jessica closed her eyes. She obviously knows. This was the shortest criminal career in history, she decided. Should have chosen the lorry driving – at least that was legal. But after a moment, there were still no shouted questions; no heavy hands on her shoulders. Opening one eye, Jessica saw the woman confronting a group of kids by the rail just near her, all of whom were holding bags.
She thinks the alarm went off because of them. Thank God. Forcing herself to act normally, and not look backwards at the street, Jessica wound her way through the packed racks until she reached the toilets. They were also alarmed. Great. Now what? She couldn’t very well take the tags off in full view of the everyone in the store, could she? Watching a toweringly tall guy walk out of the men’s toilet, she considering him lucky – a bag slung over that shoulder wouldn’t set off the alarm. Hang on? Maybe if she held it over her head? Pretend she was looking under it? Pretend she’d sat it in something nasty.
Brilliant. Putting down her other bag, she held up the blue shopper, frowning as if it had been smeared with a foul substance. Pulling a face, and rubbing her hand on the expensive stolen suit, Jessica held the bag aloft as she walked through the barriers, concentrating on the non-existent mess on the bottom of it. Once through, she put it on the floor, got out a tissue, and carefully wiped the bottom of the bag, just in case someone was watching the cameras. Finally satisfied that the pretend mess was cleared up, Jessica walked into the toilet, where she proceeded to change back into herself. Taking the posh carry bag she’d brought with her, she tipped out the removal devices also stashed in there and quickly took off the security tags. Then she got changed and threw the Lady Muck suit, the wig, the blue shopper and all the other accoutrements of the thief, into the posh carrier. Finally, she took a comb out of her wallet, released her hair from the bun
‘Excuse me. Could I possibly check these for colour outside, dear? My grandchildren are extremely fussy and I don’t want to have to bring them back.’
Theoretically, the colour of leather was hardly something you’d bother to ‘check’, but why else would she need to look at them under natural light? Jessica’s heart was pounding like a jack-hammer, but she forced herself to stay in character. Cool and calm, with the gravitas of the elderly.
The security guard told her to go ahead – he still had one eye on the bum of a gorgeous young girl. Taking on a shuffle, and mumbling to herself about colours, Jessica suddenly found herself outside the shop. Alone, except for about a thousand pounds worth of leather.
Now what?
Run. Run you fool!
It wasn’t too late to give up on this idea, she told herself, feet stubbornly rooted to the spot. Nothing had been stolen yet. There was still time to reject the deal with the devil and take the clothes back inside.
But what about that Visa bill?
Run. RUN!
And so she ran, shoving the jackets into the pale blue designer shopping bag as she went.
Ten seconds seemed like ten minutes, which was how long it took to get to the border of the next store. Sure that the security guard was hot on her heels, Jessica raced into the first place she came to. Not the café, as planned, but a large discount outlet place which, mercifully, had toilets to the rear. Unluckily, it also had those ubiquitous security barriers at the front door, which began sounding as soon as she walked in.
That store’s guard – a large woman with a mean expression and impressive girth – walked slowly towards her, and Jessica was conscious she remained in full view of the street. Moving to a rail of unattractive tank tops, she began flicking through them, waiting for someone to manhandle her into a small room and beat her to a pulp. The female guard approached, and Jessica closed her eyes. She obviously knows. This was the shortest criminal career in history, she decided. Should have chosen the lorry driving – at least that was legal. But after a moment, there were still no shouted questions; no heavy hands on her shoulders. Opening one eye, Jessica saw the woman confronting a group of kids by the rail just near her, all of whom were holding bags.
She thinks the alarm went off because of them. Thank God. Forcing herself to act normally, and not look backwards at the street, Jessica wound her way through the packed racks until she reached the toilets. They were also alarmed. Great. Now what? She couldn’t very well take the tags off in full view of the everyone in the store, could she? Watching a toweringly tall guy walk out of the men’s toilet, she considering him lucky – a bag slung over that shoulder wouldn’t set off the alarm. Hang on? Maybe if she held it over her head? Pretend she was looking under it? Pretend she’d sat it in something nasty.
Brilliant. Putting down her other bag, she held up the blue shopper, frowning as if it had been smeared with a foul substance. Pulling a face, and rubbing her hand on the expensive stolen suit, Jessica held the bag aloft as she walked through the barriers, concentrating on the non-existent mess on the bottom of it. Once through, she put it on the floor, got out a tissue, and carefully wiped the bottom of the bag, just in case someone was watching the cameras. Finally satisfied that the pretend mess was cleared up, Jessica walked into the toilet, where she proceeded to change back into herself. Taking the posh carry bag she’d brought with her, she tipped out the removal devices also stashed in there and quickly took off the security tags. Then she got changed and threw the Lady Muck suit, the wig, the blue shopper and all the other accoutrements of the thief, into the posh carrier. Finally, she took a comb out of her wallet, released her hair from the bun
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