CHAPTER 5
Keeping my head down, I walked as quickly as I could out of Kings Cross station. I knew from past experience that the police would access the station’s security cameras and may well pick me out however hard I tried to be inconspicuous. Once outside I turned left toward a small boutique that I knew specialised in clothes that were quite different to the tailored, classic outfit of my funeral attire.
Half an hour later, staring at my reflection in the fitting room mirror I assessed my new look. Mid-calf length full, brightly patterned skirt, short suede jacket, polo neck white silken sweater and a large brimmed floppy brown hat that when worn at a rakish angle covered most of my face. The only thing needed to complete the outfit was knee high fashion boots and I knew just the sho
