Code Red Lipstick (6 page)

Mattie shook her head. “Not a word. They came with search warrants and stripped the bunker downstairs and the study. God only knows what your father's got messed up in this time, but he must be in almighty trouble.”

Jessica bit her lip. That was the understatement of the year.

Mattie looked at her curiously. “I've been trying to get hold of him all day. Have you managed to speak to him?”

Jessica hesitated. “Yes. Briefly. He's in Paris on a job. He wants me to join him tomorrow. My agency's lined up some castings and Dad said it'd give us a chance to spend time together.”

It was frightening how easily the lies just kept coming. She was pretty much a pro at deceiving people.

“What? Jack doesn't mind you missing school?”

OK, so Mattie wasn't a total pushover.

“I promised I'd do some schoolwork while I'm over there.”

“This doesn't sound like Jack. Not at all. I'm going to try calling him again.” She reached for her cream Chanel handbag.

“You won't be able to speak to him,” Jessica said. “He's gone undercover. He said to tell you that MI6 might turn up but not to worry. It'll blow over.”

Mattie put her handbag down again with a contemptuous snort. “Typical. Now that
does
sound like Jack. Sticking his head in the sand and hoping the problem will go away as usual!”

“That's not what he's doing, honest.”

“Really? Then why hasn't he come back? Does he just expect me to sort out his mess for him? I have a life too, you know.”

Jessica's bottom lip trembled. “Why can't you just leave him alone for once? You're always having a go at him!”

Mattie looked taken aback. “I'm just pointing out that he should be here, getting to the bottom of this problem, rather than encouraging you to miss school, particularly when you're not feeling well. You look really pale and tired.” She reached out to touch Jessica, something she never normally did. She wasn't big on showing affection. “I just want to understand what's going on.”

Jessica stepped away. “Just leave it, why don't you?” She grabbed her rucksack and climbed the stairs three at a time. She banged her bedroom door shut and slumped on to her duvet, hugging her pillow.

“I'm coming, Dad. I promise.”

Jessica had managed to dodge Mattie at breakfast but she was standing guard at the front door, immaculate as usual in a charcoal Chanel suit and pearls, her jewelled fingers glinting under the hall light. Jessica braced herself for another almighty row.

“I'm sorry I upset you yesterday,” Mattie said abruptly. “I didn't mean to.”

She hadn't been expecting
that
. “I'm sorry too.”

“I was trying to say you've had to grow up too quickly through no fault of your own,” Mattie continued. “You're used to looking after other people, but you need looking after too.”

“I feel fine today, honestly,” Jessica said. She pulled on her pea coat and fastened the buttons. “It's no biggie. It was just a bad day. For both of us.”

“That's true.” Mattie's eyes misted up as she helped her with a button she'd missed. “You know, you remind me so much of your mother, especially when we quarrel.”

Jessica stared at her, surprised. Mattie never usually let her guard down. She and Dad usually found it too difficult to talk about Mum. She'd died in a helicopter crash when Jessica was four. Jessica only got snippets now and then.

“Am I really like Mum? How?”

“Well, you look just like her. She'd never back down in an argument, and I was
always
nagging her to tidy her room.”

“What else?”

Mattie fiddled with her sapphire ring. “She was very determined. She talked me into letting her start modelling as a teenager, the way you did with your father. She tried to hide her detentions from me too.” She smoothed the wrinkles out of her suit. “But I always found out.”

Jessica laughed. “Don't worry about that. It was just Hatchet Hatcham throwing his weight around as usual. You know how he is when I'm late.”

“Well, you don't want to be late today,” Mattie said, checking her gold Cartier watch. “At least you've got morning lessons before you have to leave for Paris.”

Jessica winced. That was yet another lie she'd told Mattie yesterday. But what could she do? She had to pretend to go to school in case anyone was following her. Hopefully, they'd give up when they thought she was sticking to her normal routine and heading to lessons. Her train was actually leaving at 10.25 a.m. and she wouldn't be at registration.

Mattie handed her an envelope stuffed with hundreds of euros. “I know your hotel bill's already paid for, but this is some extra in case you need it. No arguing, I insist.”

“Really? That's so generous. Thank you.” Jessica threw her arms around Mattie and closed her eyes. She hadn't hugged her grandma for a long time. She smelt of roses. A memory of her mum came flooding back. Even though her name was Lily, she preferred roses. She used to fill the house with vases of them.

“There, there,” Mattie said, pushing her back. “You know I'm still not happy with you travelling alone. I'd much prefer to meet you at school and take you to Paris myself this afternoon.”

“Honestly, it's fine. I travel on the Underground by myself all the time. The Eurostar's no different. Plus I've got a chaperone at the other end and Dad's already in Paris.”

That wasn't a lie. It just wasn't the whole truth.

“I suppose so.” Mattie didn't sound convinced.

“It's cool. You were travelling around by yourself at my age. This isn't so very different.”

Mattie gazed at her. “You have no idea.” She handed over her large Louis Vuitton overnight bag – a gift from a recent shoot – and school rucksack. “Remember to be careful and call me at least once a day.”

“I will. I promise.” She opened the door and walked down the black and white mosaic path.

“Wait, Jessica!”

She turned back.

Tears had formed in Mattie's eyes. “You'd tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you?”

“Of course.” The lie lingered in the air as she walked up the street.

 

Jessica reached the school gates after a detour and crouched down. She fumbled with her rucksack straps, pretending she'd forgotten something. She pulled a mirror out of her pocket and used it to check over her shoulder. She'd tried to shake off the black Merc but it was still on her tail. It pulled over further down the road, its engine running.

She stood up and quickened her pace, marching into the deserted playground. Suddenly, someone pounced and enveloped her in a rough bear hug. Her arms were pinned to her body.

“Got you!” a voice snarled.

Jessica threw her head back. There was a crunch as she made contact with a chin. She kicked back, scraping her heel down a shin, and jabbed her right elbow into the solar plexus. The hands released her and she spun round, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone as her fist slammed into someone's nose.

“Aaaargh!”

Jessica looked down at Tommy Williams, who was writhing at her feet, clutching his nose.

“You!” Jessica exclaimed.

“I think you've broken my nose, you little cow!” he said, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

“You shouldn't have grabbed me like that. I thought you were attacking me. Sorry.”

“You will be sorry when I report you and you're expelled.” He dabbed his nose.

“It was self-defence,” Jessica insisted. “Anyway, do you really want everyone to know you've been beaten up by a girl? It could seriously damage your image of being, you know, a total psychopath.”

Tommy hesitated. He shook his head.

“Good.” Jessica helped him to his feet. “Let's agree this never happened.”

Tommy shook her off and jerked his head.

“I'll take that as a yes.” She ran to the bike sheds where Becky was waiting, shivering in a short grey skirt and pullover. The skull-and-crossbones earrings were back in her lobes.

“Did I really just see you deck Tommy Williams?”

“I don't think he'll be jumping out on anyone like that again. I just hope he doesn't report me. He could blow everything.”

“Blow what? Why couldn't you ring the doorbell when you dropped the note off last night? Or just phone me?” Becky touched her arm. “Does this have something to do with why you didn't come back to school yesterday?”

“Sort of.” She hadn't been able to risk using her phone or email to arrange a rendezvous with Becky. “I'll tell you everything eventually, I swear, but not yet. It's safer if you don't know at the moment.”

“Safer? What do you mean?” Becky's forehead wrinkled with worry.

“There isn't time to explain.” She passed Becky the absence note she'd persuaded Mattie to sign. “Please, just hand this into the office.”

“Of course I will. I'm worried, that's all—”

“I know,” Jessica cut in. “But don't. I'm cool, honestly. Did you bring it?”

Becky fished her iPhone out of her bag and handed it over.

“It's the best birthday present ever,” she said. “Try not to lose it. I've got lots of pics on it that I haven't backed up yet.”

“I won't, I promise.” Now Jessica wouldn't have to use her own phone, which MI6 was undoubtedly bugging. She could monitor it for incoming calls and texts and use Becky's iPhone whenever she needed to make a call. She logged on to Becky's emails: the contact point she'd given Primus. Roberta had already sent a message saying she was booked into Hôtel Keppler by the Champs-Élysées. Camille, her chaperone, would accompany her to the shoot tomorrow.

“Great,” she said to Becky. “I need you to do one more thing for me.”

“Name it.”

“I'm pretty sure a black Merc followed me to school. I need you to distract the driver while I slip out. There's probably a passenger too. They're parked further down the road, on the right.”

“Seriously?”

Jessica nodded. “I need you to get rid of them.”

“Leave it to me. I'll make it an Oscar-worthy performance. Shame a Hollywood director won't see it.”

Jessica smiled. That was what she loved about Becky. She supported her, no matter what, and didn't ask
too
many awkward questions. They walked in silence to the gates.

Becky gave her a quick hug. “Be careful and good luck.”

“And you.”

Becky strode out. A few seconds later, Jessica heard a scream. She peeped round. Becky was standing by the Merc with her hands on her hips.

“What are you staring at?” she yelled. “Are you a perv or what?”

A couple of builders working on a house nearby looked up.

“Are you all right, love?” one shouted.

“No. These guys are harassing me. They said they'd pay me a tenner if I let them look up my skirt!”

The builders strode over as a man climbed out of the passenger side. It was Clifford. This was her chance. She shot out and veered left down the road. She looked over her shoulder as she turned the corner. A builder pulled the driver out of the car and punched him while his mate wrestled Clifford to the pavement.

Hoorah! Her plan had worked. Now she was out of sight, she broke into a run until she reached the main road. She hopped on a bus. She peered out of the window, but she couldn't see anyone in pursuit. A few stops along she jumped out and switched to the Underground in case she was being followed. From there, it was a straightforward journey to St Pancras International station.

She found the toilets and locked herself into a cubicle. She hurriedly pulled on a pair of faded skinny jeans, a cream Topshop sweater and a black aviator-style leather jacket and boots. She stuffed her uniform into her rucksack and let herself out. She splashed some water on to her face and stared in the mirror. She didn't see a model staring back, or a spy. Just a scared, stupid teenager.

What the hell did she think she was doing? She was used to going on jobs with her dad but this was different. She was alone. This was all down to her. She didn't have any backup.

She dabbed on some lipgloss and applied her eyeliner and mascara. The war paint made her feel braver. She could do this. She
had
to do this
.
She walked back, gripping her online ticket, and joined the long queue snaking away from the security checks. The atmosphere was tense as a school party held everyone up. Boys and girls squealed with excitement and dodged about, getting underneath everyone's feet as their rucksacks passed through the X-ray scanners.

She tagged after them to passport control. The harassed-looking man on the desk waived the party through and sighed irritably as she walked up. She handed over her passport and smiled. The man gave it a cursory glance.

“Good luck. You're going to need it,” he muttered. “Go through.”

“Thank you.”

She hadn't flagged up any security alerts. He obviously thought she was one of the teachers' helpers. She still had a few minutes spare, so she bought a croissant and a caramel frappuccino before boarding. No one looked up as the carriage door slid back.

Jessica found her seat quickly; the train was quiet so she had a table to herself. A man in a business suit tapped away on his laptop in front. To her left, a thirty-something woman in a smart black trouser suit flicked through a discarded glossy. She paused over a fashion spread, long enough for Jessica to catch a glimpse of a moody-looking girl clad in a bead-embellished gold maxi dress from Marni and a Religion black leather jacket. It was her! That was one of her first major shoots for
Teen Mode
. She'd loved that edgy rock-chick look. It was awesome. The woman looked up and stared. Jessica reddened. Had she recognized her from the magazine or was she an MI6 agent, tailing her?

She pulled out her iPod and stuck in the earphones. This was the only other gadget MI6 had accidentally left behind, apart from her dad's iPad that she'd taken to school. Thankfully, she'd let Mattie borrow it yesterday and no one, not even MI6, dared to look inside her Chanel handbag. She guarded it, Rottweiler-like.

She flicked on the application and pretended to select a track, pointing it in the magazine woman's direction. The mobile and laptop in her brown leather briefcase had normal frequencies and firewalls, as did the businessman's laptop. She swept the whole carriage, just to be on the safe side. Devices belonging to an M16 undercover agent would light up like the Fourth of July due to their complicated security systems. They'd be more protected than Buckingham Palace.

The carriage was clean.

After a few minutes, the train pulled away from the station and she relaxed for the first time all day. Everything had gone to plan so far. Ravenous, she devoured her croissant and washed it down with swigs of frappuccino. She flicked through the agency's emails. Primus had arranged for a car to pick her up from Gare du Nord and forwarded a detailed itinerary, along with her chaperone's mobile. She was free today but the rest of the week looked pretty stacked. She'd have to dodge Camille and probably skip a few castings too. She'd face Felicity's wrath on her return to London.