Just in Case by Meg Rosoff Read Free Book Online

felt as if he’d stepped into an old-fashioned Easter egg. The place smelled of something exotic and expensive, like the hold of a ship en route from the West Indies. Clove, he thought. Frankincense. Cinnamon.
    It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the tiny lights reflected and multiplied in the mirrors. Now he could see members of a strange species of female creature swivelling around the room, some in jeans and platform heels, some in brightly coloured suits or dresses, but all oddly tall and oddly self-possessed, their hair exaggerated, their legs unnaturally long. They had staring eyes and fat engorged lips. They giggled and gossiped, but their expressions froze into masks of disdain when they noticed Justin.
    ‘Models,’ whispered Agnes. ‘They appeared the day this place opened. Like ants at a picnic. No one knows how they do it.’
    Oh god, Justin thought, fashion again. Why not something simple, like Sanskrit or statistics?
    Agnes took his arm and led him across the room. Standing at a long wooden worktable, face averted, was atall endomorph with a perfect oblong head and the meditative air of a Tibetan monk. He wore softly tailored black trousers and a thick charcoal cardigan unravelled at all its edges so that individual strands of wool reached nearly to the floor. Guessing at his country of origin Justin chose a handful: Japan, France, India. When the man turned towards them, Justin saw that his eyes were hard and sharp as broken glass.
    ‘Hello, Ivan,’ Agnes said.
    The man kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Welcome, as always, dear girl.’ Dipping his head, he indicated the customers with a narrowing of his eyes. ‘Please excuse the mess.’
    Agnes suppressed a smile. ‘Yes, of course. You appear to be thriving.’
    ‘I make a living.’ Despite his exotic appearance, Ivan’s English was precise and without accent.
    Agnes stepped closer, lowered her voice and inclined her head in Justin’s direction. ‘Ivan, look at this boy I found.’
    Justin winced. This boy I found. Like an old glove on the pavement.
    ‘Well?’ Her voice was soft. ‘What do you think?’
    Ivan looked, examining Justin with the clinical detachment of someone who has seen far too many exceptional faces. He raised an elegant tapered finger to his own forehead and looked questioningly at Agnes.
    ‘The bump is temporary,’ she whispered.
    He turned back to Justin and shrugged. ‘Yes,’ he said finally. And then again, ‘Yes.’
    Justin huddled into his anorak and began to back away.
    Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, Agnes stopped him. ‘Ivan, this is my friend Justin Case.’
    ‘Welcome.’ With grim formality, Ivan bowed slightly to Justin. ‘To what do I owe the honour?’
    ‘He needs… finishing.’
    Ivan nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’ He stifled a yawn.
    ‘Ivan’s got a wonderful eye,’ Agnes whispered.
    Justin imagined an all-seeing eyeball shoved deep in the man’s trouser pocket, damp and slimy like a squid.
    Across the room, a girl appeared from a dressing room in a layered owl-shaped dress that failed completely to enhance her emaciated beauty. Her friend beamed approval.
    Justin stared.
    ‘So,’ Ivan said to Agnes, studying Justin and rolling a black button between his fingers. ‘Not a suit. A coat, perhaps?’
    ‘Whatever you think. Something impressive. I’m photographing him.’
    Ivan frowned. ‘I might have something.’
    He disappeared, returning a few minutes later carrying a long, ice-grey shearling coat with black buttons. He held it draped carelessly over one arm, and smacked it a few times. Small clouds of dust rose from it; Ivan’s hand left a slightly paler mark on the surface of the suede.
    ‘The cut is too narrow to suit anyone who might possibly afford it,’ he said. ‘Men with money are rarely slim.’
    Justin stared at the coat. It looked like the illegitimate issue of a yak and a football.
    Ivan caught his expression and shrugged. ‘Take it or not.’
    ‘It’ll be completely