A Sprinkle of Sabotage by Fiona Leitch (bill gates book recommendations TXT) 📗

window, standing on it just as the net curtains moved and the window was opened a little way.

Faith Mackenzie, ex-model, movie star, and doyenne of the soap opera, peered out. In her late fifties (or maybe early sixties – no one knew her real age), she looked like a much younger woman. She had great skin, lovely hair, and a slim figure, all of which pointed to someone who spent a lot of time (and money) taking very good care of their appearance. I couldn’t imagine her ever leaving the house in less than full make-up, and definitely not in track pants and a T-shirt unless it was to actually go and exercise – not popping down the road for a pint of milk and a packet of biscuits, which was the only time these days that my exercise gear got a workout. She also had a nice smile, even now, when she must be thoroughly bored and starting to get impatient.

‘Cooee!’ she said. ‘Hello, Jodie, wasn’t it? Thank you for thinking of me.’

‘Oh, it’s nothing,’ I said airily. I have to admit I was a little bit starstruck; I’d never really been into soaps, but since Mum had more or less moved in with me we’d started to watch all of them together. And although Faith was obviously on a break from filming her role in Mile End Days, her episodes were still showing and we’d actually watched her playing pub landlady Clara Brown the night before. Clara was a mouthy cockney matriarch, not someone you’d want to get on the wrong side of, and it sounded like her role in this movie was basically the same but with a posher accent.

I cleared my throat. Oh my God I’m talking to Clara! Mum’ll have a fit. ‘So, what’s going on in there? Are you all right?’

She rolled her eyes, but at the situation rather than me, I felt. ‘The blasted door is stuck. They tried to tell me I’d locked it by mistake, but I haven’t. They all think I’m some menopausal old biddy. And if Jeremy tries to talk me through opening a door one more time, I swear to God…’

I laughed sympathetically. ‘Well, I just heard the locksmith say the lock mechanism’s broken, so hopefully that’ll shut him up. I don’t suppose you can climb out of this window, can you?’

Faith sighed. ‘I actually am a menopausal old biddy, and a National Treasure. There’s no way I’m squeezing out of a caravan window. Can’t someone just break the door down? There must be a ton of strong young men out there.’

‘Which way does the door open?’ I asked. ‘Inwards or outwards?’

‘Outwards.’

‘Then someone would need to kick it down from inside. I don’t suppose you fancy trying that either,’ I said, and she laughed.

‘Not really.’

‘Fair enough.’ I looked at the window again. ‘Does that window open any further…?’

‘You want me to do what?’ Tony looked as if his flabber had been well and truly ghasted.

‘You can get through that window. Go on, you always wanted to be a hero.’

‘Did I? Don’t remember that.’

‘All right, but you did always want to be an actor, and if you get on the right side of Faith you might get bumped up to a speaking part.’ I gave him a shove. ‘Go on.’

‘Jodie…’

I put on my most sincere face. ‘I believe in you, Tony. And more to the point, I’m not big enough to bash the door in myself or I’d do it.’

He looked at me for a moment, and then laughed.

‘All right, I’m going in.’

Faith looked out of the window at our approach. Lucy had ignored me upon my return to the caravan as I was carrying a tray of food lovingly dished up by Gino, the singing food-truck man. The movie star’s face lit up hungrily, which I at first put down to the plate of pasta salad I was carrying but then realised with a shock that it was Tony she was staring at. Hmm. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

‘Here’s your food,’ I said, reaching up. Tony, being taller, took the plate from me and handed it through the open window.

‘Miss Mackenzie,’ he said, with a slight bow. Yeah, all right, don’t overdo it, Tone, I thought. She ain’t royalty; she’s just playing it. She smiled.

‘Please, call me Faith,’ she said, taking it from him. She had a lovely smile and she shone it, full beam, on Tony. Hmm…

‘Now, if you’d like to stand aside, Miss … Faith, I’m coming in too.’

‘Ooh, are you here to rescue me or are you dessert?’ she giggled, with an eyebrow raised in a suggestive fashion. It suggested something to me, anyway. Hmm…

Tony laughed. ‘We’ll start with getting that door open,’ he said. He stepped up on the plastic crate, then pulled himself up so that his torso was level with the window sill. I thought for a moment that he wasn’t going to fit after all – he had put some weight on since I’d back, as I’d been feeding him a bit too often – but the tight trousers were evidence that he’d been taking more care of himself lately, and he managed to wriggle through until just his legs were sticking out. He’s been working out, I thought approvingly.

I could hear muffled laughing from inside the caravan, and then Faith must’ve taken hold of his arms and pulled because he suddenly disappeared from view.

‘Dammit!’ he cried.

‘Are you all right?’ I asked, concerned.

‘Bloody trousers…’

Faith laughed and I suddenly had a vision of Tony sitting on the caravan’s couch next to a ravening Faith in just his pants. What if he couldn’t get the door open? They’d be stuck in there together for goodness only knows how long, and I didn’t fancy his chances against her. If he even puts up a struggle, I thought. I jumped up on the plastic crate and tried to haul myself up.

Tony looked out of the window. ‘I’m fine, I