Just in Case Read Free

of her nails.
    ‘Well,’ she said finally, with the smallest hint of a smile. ‘It’s different.’
    He looked at her.
    ‘Not uninteresting,’ she added.
    ‘Not?’
    ‘No.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Not.’
    She extended her hand. ‘My name is Agnes.’ The fingers she offered had pale green fingernails. ‘Agnes Bee.’
    ‘Justin. Justin Case.’
    She blinked, digesting this information. And then all at once she beamed, her face illuminated with delight. He took the hand she offered. It was surprisingly soft and warm, and he held it cautiously, not sure when to let go. He had no experience of touching older women.
    ‘How very nice to meet you, Justin Case.’
    Still smiling, Agnes turned to one of the racks and pulled out a shirt: poppy-coloured, long sleeves, ruffle down the front. She thrust it at Justin, along with the brown and lavender paisley.
    ‘Try these. I’ll keep looking.’
    Justin looked at the shirts. ‘I don’t think so.’
    She ignored him.
    He sighed, took the hangers, and entered the tiny changing room at the far end of the shop. There was barely room to turn sideways.
    The first shirt fitted. He buttoned it and looked around for a mirror.
    Agnes swept the curtain aside and Justin found himself viewed in reverse close-up portrait through the wrong end of a Nikon 55mm DX lens. Click click click, click click click. Three frames per second. Two seconds. He leapt back with a startled squeak.
    Agnes’s face emerged from one side of her Nikon. ‘What?’
    ‘What do you mean “what?” That .’
    She frowned. ‘Turn around and let me look at you.’
    He turned around and let her look at him.
    ‘Not bad.’ She beamed approval, then put the camera down and picked up a small pile of clothes. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye on these things for ages. For exactly the right person.’
    The thought of being exactly the right person appealed to Justin so completely that he tried everything she brought him and attempted to like it all. She brought him a turquoise flowered shirt, a skinny brown cardigan that he thought must have been designed for a woman, and a pair of white canvas trousers that had to be cinched with a belt. He put them all on and emerged from the cubicle, nervous.
    Click click, click click click. Five shots aimed with deadly accuracy at his head. Agnes lowered her camera and considered him. ‘Excellent. You’ll take them all.’ She squinted, her head turned slightly to one side. ‘You’re very lucky I was here today.’
    Justin nodded uncertainly.
    ‘Of course this is only the beginning.’ She spotted a red and white vinyl bowling bag and crossed briskly to pick it up. Justin watched her. He had no idea what she was talking about, but the feeling fitted with his new life as a stranger. There was even something reassuring about it.
    Agnes carried the clothes to the till, accepted a small pile of creased £5 notes from Justin and handed them to the sour-faced woman. The money looked as if it had been crammed in a piggy bank for years, which it had. ‘That’s all he has,’ she told the scowling troll. ‘It’ll have to do.’
    While the woman harrumphed and muttered irritably, Agnes flicked through her camera’s digital display.
    She looked up and gazed solemnly at Justin. ‘You photograph like an angel, Justin Case.’
    Was he being solicited for a child pornography website, or perhaps a fanzine article on fashion disasters?
    ‘Never mind. Next time I’ll bring proofs.’
    Next time ?
    ‘I’ve enjoyed our first meeting immensely.’
    He tried to smile, but it came out lopsided, uncertain. Click click click.
    On the way out of the shop, Agnes spied a pair of pristine black jeans half-hidden under a pile of shirts. She stopped, examined them and tossed them to Justin.
    ‘Try them on.’
    Agnes Bee waited outside the tiny changing room as he pulled them on. They fitted perfectly.
    She swept back the curtain once more. ‘Could you scream?’ she asked happily.
    Justin