The memory triggered a sudden wave of sadness as images of Kath and DCI Bradfield sprung back into her mind. Jane had to clench her hands into fists to fight back unexpected tears. She didn’t want to remember them, not now, not when she was about to begin undercover work. It could jeopardise her chances of gaining a much longed-for place in the CID. She became angry with herself for being emotional, and as she had done so often before, she refused to let herself cry. It felt as if someone was squeezing her heart and she had to force herself to take slow, deep breaths until the pressure subsided. She had told no one about these ‘attacks’, which were now less frequent, and she was certain she was capable of controlling them.
Jane stepped down from the chair and took out all of Pam’s makeup, spreading it out on her small writing desk: the pale pink lipstick, the rouge and pots of eye shadows, and sticks of pan makeup. Pam had been quite a rebellious teenager, and Jane couldn’t help smiling at how different they were. Perhaps it was just as well that Pam had started work in the salon straight from school and had met her husband and married so young, or she might have ended up going off the rails. Sisters they may be, but they had very little in common. Since Pam had got married and Jane had moved into the section house, they rarely saw each other.
It took Jane several attempts, using a small magnifying mirror, to stick on the false eyelashes. She had never worn them before, and found the tiny tube of glue very fiddly. She used one of the darker sticks of pan to cover her face and work into her neck as Pam had shown her. There was no makeup brush, so she had to apply the rouge with a tissue. Jane chose a blue eye shadow and then wet the mascara from the tap at her washbasin and applied two thick coats, being careful not to unstick the eyelashes. She spent a long time checking her reflection and then lastly put on the pale pink lipstick.
It was nearly 7 p.m. and Jane realized she’d better get a move on as she didn’t want to be late for the briefing in the CID office. She began to feel almost satisfied with her appearance until she realized that it was going to be quite cold as she would be out late, so she tied the blouse she had discarded in a knot around her waist. She realized it wouldn’t be warm enough but she reckoned the adrenalin rush of working undercover would keep her from feeling the cold. Finally, she clipped on the big hoop earrings and pulled the cheap bracelets onto her wrists. She rather hesitantly looked at her police issue shoulder bag, but knowing she wouldn’t be using it, she picked up the plastic makeup bag that belonged to Pam and popped her warrant card inside. It had a floral print and a zip and she could use it as her purse.
Jane practised walking up and down the length of her small room. The boots made it difficult as the plastic kept rubbing her knees, and she had to constantly pull up the flap at the top. They were platform and had a stacked wedge heel, making it very hard to walk properly and mimic a confident ‘hooker’s stride’, swinging her hips and turning her head as if looking for punters.
Jane continued to increase her confidence by practising her new role on the bus journey from the section house back to the station. To begin with, she was very nervous and self-conscious, wondering if anyone would recognize her or try to approach her. In recent months she had arrested several Toms for soliciting and she remembered how they gave a ‘cold shoulder’ steely eyed look when questioned. For her journey to work Jane had taken off the earrings and bracelets and was wearing her black raincoat over her disguise. She went into the station via the back entrance in case anyone saw her walking in by the front counter. As she walked along the corridor to the locker room two uniform officers stopped to question her.
‘Oi, what d’you think you’re doin’ on police premises, luv?’
‘The same as you, luv… it’s me, WPC Tennison… want to see my ID?’
One of them muttered ‘Fuckin’ Ada’, as they both moved off sharply down the corridor. The fact that they had not recognized her gave Jane a boost.
While storing her coat in her locker Jane had another moment of déjà vu. It was over something completely unconnected, but after being confident about controlling her emotions, this came on so strongly she had to brace herself. Jane had forgotten to spray on any perfume, and she had a visualization of Kath and her heavy French scent, which all the men used to tease her about. Kath had once sprayed Jane with it to get rid of the smell of Dettol from the first post-mortem she had attended.
Her recollection was suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the locker room door, and DI Moran’s voice.
‘Two rather stunned uniform lads just said they’d seen you in the corridor… all right if I come in and have a look?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Jane said, brushing herself down and shaking her head so the wig would look better.
‘My God, you look the part… especially the sequined boob tube, which is very revealing,’ he said, his eyes transfixed on her, adding, ‘This is for you.’ He tossed her a pale blue waist length rabbit fur coat. ‘It’ll be pretty cold out there so you’ll need something to keep you warm that goes with the rest of the gear. It’s evidence in a handling case, but for now it’s yours.’ Jane gratefully put on the cheap rabbit fur jacket, which reeked of patchouli oil.
‘I’ll just check my makeup and then I’ll be up for the briefing, sir.’
‘Your makeup’s fine. I’d like to get out on the plot, so I’ll brief you in the obo van. Get the duty sergeant to book you out with us… the obo van is in the yard.’
Jane clipped on the earrings and went to the front office where Sergeant Rodgers was sitting at the duty desk. She liked Sergeant Rodgers. Unlike Harris he had a sense of humour and didn’t bark out orders. He nearly fell off his seat when he saw Jane, but she was quick to identify herself to him and reassure him that she was not a trespasser in the station.
‘Bloody hell, you look lovely, Tennison. Harris said you were getting dressed up for a UC job, but I never imagined you looking anything like this.’
Jane smiled, but realized he wasn’t joking as he stared at her in admiration.
‘Fancy me, do you, Sarge?’
‘I dunno how you done it… you look like a movie star. Pity I got a wife, three kids and a cross-breed Alsatian at home. Listen, good luck tonight, be careful and don’t go sticking your neck out. You’ll have plenty of backup out there, so use it.’
‘Thanks, Sarge. Can you book me out with the CID, please?’
Rodgers nodded and watched as Jane sashayed off down the corridor before booking her out in the station duty book. He noted that WPC 517 Tennison had left the station at 7.45 p.m. to work with CID on an attachment. Closing the duty book he tapped it with his hand and sighed. He knew how young Tennison was, and doubted that she had any concept of what she might have to face. Looking like a tough street-wise Tom could get her into a nasty situation.
CHAPTER TWO
Jane felt nervous in the obo van as they made their way over to London Fields. DI Moran gave her a small concealed radio, which he placed in the pocket of the blue rabbit fur coat. He had already made a small hole in the pocket for the earpiece and a small hand-held mic. He ran the wire for the speaker down the inside of the left sleeve of the jacket and the earpiece to the middle of her neck, up into the wig and into her left ear. Moran explained that it worked the same as a normal police radio and all she had to do was hold the mic in her left hand and press the small transmitter button whenever she wanted to communicate with him.
‘Here, take this just in case you need to use it,’ he said, as he produced a truncheon from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to her. ‘Self-preservation always comes first so you hit ’em where it hurts most, as hard as you can if anything happens. OK?’