'Don't get caught!'

That was what my dad had taught me when I first started thieving. Dad should have known; he had spent more time inside than out while I was growing up. Not that I saw that much of him after mum had finally had enough and shacked up with the window cleaner and taken me and my sisters to live on the other side of London.

I still looked up to Dad though. We just got used to not getting presents on Xmas Day. Instead things would turn up at random a few days later in black bin liners and instructions not to play outside. The first time I had to run for it after stealing some Levi's from a shop in Camden I remember the shouts of the store detective behind me and my panting getting louder and louder; adrenalin taking over as I looked to escape.

Inevitably I did get caught. I suppose I pushed my luck or got careless and got pinched after taking some electricals from Boots. They took shoplifting pretty seriously but I was lucky to get away with a caution after turning on some waterworks.

I think my height and build played a part too as I was a skinny kid and barely 5' 7 tall. I wasn't picked on too much as the other kids in school knew my dad was inside and that seemed to put me in some kind of protective bubble. The bullies kind of respected me even though I was never going to be much use in a fist fight.

Getting pinched that first time didn't help my shoplifting though and it became harder to get away with stuff as the local store detectives knew me by sight. I tried working further afield, getting the tube into the west end, but there was even more chance of getting pinched there. At least in the stores that had anything worth nicking.

Almost unconsciously I found myself thinking about doing some B & E. Breaking and Entering; that was what the police called it. Of course it didn't actually become burglary until you nicked something but it did seem a less stressful way to thieve. I started small, never on my own door step but not too far away that I didn't know my way around the area. The old council blocks had passageways outside the doors and the kitchens fronting onto the same. On a warm day I would walk by and glance through any open windows to see what I could see. It was all pretty small time, the odd kettle or small appliance I would sell down the high st in the second hand store. It took me a few months before I actually had the balls to start climbing in through an open window or see if some old dear had left her front door open.

By the time I was in my late teens I was supplementing my dole money by a couple of hundred quid a week but it was pretty time consuming and I had to vary where I was going as I had the odd moment where someone would see my hanging around and start asking awkward questions. I knew I had to find a new plan when I was stop and searched by the police. 'Course my name came back as having a record and then the older of the two coppers asks if I know a Keith with the same surname and of course he knows my dad having nicked him a few years back.

My mum was always begging me to go straight. She figured I should work with the window cleaner; reckoned he could fix me up with a little round. My dad on the other hand thought I could use this to carry on theivng as the ladder would come in handy! It was Dad who suggested I try something else though. Dads MO was looking for houses or flats where people where always out. If he could get into a block of communal flats he always reckoned he could find one with a poor quality lock. If it was a house he would look for unopened mail and any drawn curtains.

in order to not attract attention he had a variety of fake ID's for things like the gas board and if someone challenged him he could always say someone had reported a leak.

I suppose I had never really considered the morality of it all as it was all that I had known. Even the window cleaner was scamming his customers; only cleaning people's windows on alternate weeks. Dad always used to say that the people in the places he nicked from had insurance anyway and in some ways he made it seem a bit more noble than stealing from someone on a council estate.

The one thing that was always made clear was that I had to find my own patch. There was no way dad was gonna team up with me, even if I was his son. And that was easier said than done. The more upmarket the street you hit the more quickly the neighbours would install alarms, window bars and CCTV. No sooner had I found a good area and done few houses I was having to find somewhere new. At least the pickings were better; jewellery, a bit of money, but more often newly arrived credit cards and cheque books. There was less of it, but more to be made!

I could normally get a few days and maybe up to two weeks use out of a credit card or cheque book before it would get refused but even that began to dry up as banks introduced chip and pin payments and more and more people stopped using cheques. It was getting harder and harder to get by using dishonest means and my dad getting put away for another stretch didn't help as I couldn't go to him for 'career' advice.

I was clear that I needed to find a new MO. I needed to find a way that I could get around the posh areas like St Johns Wood and Belsize Park without attracting too much attention. I thought about seeing if I could get hold of a postmans uniform but I didn't really know where to start with that. Dad's old scam of the gas board ID was a bit too obvious these days too. As I wandered around the chi chi streets of Primrose Hill one morning something did begin to take hold.

There were loads of women about. They seemed to fall into two categories. The first was probably best described as the 'yummy mummies'. These women were moneyed. Their husbands probably worked in the City and they just spent the day spending the money. I sometimes saw them driving around in a big 4x4 near where I lived in Kentish Town on their way somewhere more upmarket no doubt. Around Primrose Hill though you were more likely to see them walking to the shops to meet their friends for coffee. Those without kids in tow would be in big designer shades with a massive handbag over their arms as they yakked away on their iPhones. Otherwise they were pushing some kind of hi tec pram with a baby or toddler in it.

You did occasionally see these women without kids because most of them had an au pair or nanny. These girls were more often than not from overseas and while the baby or toddler they were looking after might have been in designer baby duds these girls were making do with H&M with a standard uniform of ballet pumps or Ugg boots with leggings or skinny jeans.

An idea was beginning to form in my mind. I was getting funny looks because I was probably one of the only guys in the area between 9 and 5 who wasn't an estate agent. If I wanted to blend in here one thing was for sure I was the wrong sex.

I got the tube over to my Mums. My youngest sister still lived at home. I approached the house obliquely seeing if anyone was home. I went around the back and retrieved the spare key from under a brick where mum always left it. I unlocked the back door quietly and went in. I always knew never to call out. If you want to see if a house is empty you listen. I paused in the kitchen doorway, there was no sound from the living room so I trod slowly up the stairs peering over the banister to see if any of the bedroom doors were shut.

My sister had a bigger room now the rest of us kids were moved out. I walked into her room and looked around at the casually made bed and discarded clothes, bags and shoes strewn about. There was a pair of ballet pumps on the floor by her dressing table. I checked the size and pulled a face when I saw they were a size smaller than my own feet. I decided to have a look around.

In her draw I found some black leggings and a bit more searching found an underwear draw with a few bras and lots of cheap panties from New Look and Primark. I went to the airing cupboard and found a pillow case and grabbed a handful of panties from the draw and a bra. I put these into the pillow case along with the leggings. In another draw I found some tops and grabbed a what appeared to be a oversized jumper from the wardrobe. In my Mums room I found some Ugg style boots. They were a size too small as well, but they looked massive so into the pillow case they went too.

I went back downstairs and transferred the contents of the pillowcase into a nylon bag that I always carried. It was the kind of thing sold for people needing excess baggage on holiday, zipping into a small pouch when not needed but a somewhat flimsy but useful holdall when required.

I headed back to my flat, but wandered into one the housing association estates on the way home. After casing a few blocks I spotted a young mum, toddler and buggy in tow fixing to head out somewhere from one of the flats. She looked around at me as I approached. She was a little shorter than me but had a curvy figure that could still be seen in her knock off Juicy Couture tracksuit.

‘Looking for number 52’ I said. She looked me up and down suspiciously. I indicated my holdall;

‘I’m dropping off this’ She looked at the holdall and then back at me.

‘What’s that got to do with Ethel?’ she asked quizzically. Thinking on my feet in this situation came naturally to me.

‘I’m Tony, her nephew, me Mum’s done her washing as her machine’s broken’ The girl looked at the holdall again and seem satisfied. She looked over her shoulder.

‘Four doors down, but she won’t be in. She’s in the day centre until two’. I looked past her as if looking for the door.

‘Oh right... well... I might just give a knock anyway... y’know.. on the off chance...’

‘Suit yourself’ The girl made to go past me and I flashed her a winning smile.

‘Thanks... might see you around’ I watched her go and when she looked over her shoulder smiled and waved and then made as if to go the four doors up the walkway. I waited until she had come out of the lift and was across the forecourt of the estate before going back and trying her door.

My distraction technique had worked as she had forgotten to put on the mortice lock. The Yale lock was easy to do and I quietly entered her flat and closed the door. I knew what I was after and headed straight for the bedroom. Putting the holdall on the bed I went to the dressing table and swept all of the make up piled on their into a plastic bag and then into the holdall. From the bathroom I found make up remover and various other lotions that looked that they might come in useful.

I went through the drawers and found some cheap jewellery and took this too. A coat hanging on the wardrobe caught my eye. A cropped version of a parka. I snatched it off the door and tried it. It seemed to fit OK so that went in the bag too.

On the off chance I picked up one of her shoes from a row of pairs that were discarded in a corner. They were a bit scruffy, but in open toed sandal style with a slight wedge heel they looked big enough for me. I sat down on the girls unmade bed and whipped off my trainer and sock and pushed the sandal onto my foot. It was a surprisingly good fit. I took off my other trainer and put on the other sandal.I pulled up my tracksuit bottoms a little so I could see better how the sandals looked on my feet. There was a long mirror propped against one wall and I posed with one foot arched.

I took the sandals, some high heels with a pointed toe and a pair of flat shoes and decided that I had spent more than enough time in the flat. I closed the door softly behind me and swung my holdall over my shoulder and made for the stairs. I didn’t pass anyone on the way down and made sure that I left the estate in a different direction to the one I had entered avoiding any CCTV that could spy me.

My next stop was the market. Amongst the teeming ethnic stalls and open shop fronts there were quite a few beauty stores. These sold all kinds of ethnic beauty products like hair relaxers and skin lightening cream. More importantly I knew from their window displays they sold wigs and hair extensions in various styles.

I ducked between the clucking black girls as they ripped open packets and tried wigs on for the friends to see and comment on. The asian owner in this particular store had his hands full with two west african girls who were trying to nail him on a price and I was able to slip a few items into my bag without him noticing.

Back at my place I emptied the fruits of my little expedition on my bed. I had gather some clothes, shoes, accessories and make up and based on my theiving in the beauty store had gained a shoulder length curly wig and a couple of hair pieces.

I stripped off and looked at myself in the mirror. I wasnt exactly skinny, but I figured the stuff I had lifted from my sis would fit me OK. I went into the bathroom and started running a bath. I put my razor on the side and got into the hot, soapy water. I propped a mirror behind the taps and started to lather up so I could give myself a close shave. My hair was already close cropped so that wasn’t going to be an issue.

Out of the bath and towelled dry I wondered what to put on first. I got a pair of cotton knickers that didn’t look too skimpy and stepped into them, drawing them up my legs and over my cock. They felt a little weird to be honest, but I figured ‘when in Rome’. I put on leggings and then a bra. The easiest way seemed to be to put it on back to front and then twist it back around to the front. I stuffed it out with socks so it looked like I had a pair of tits. I put one of my sisters vests on to cover the straps and then tried on the over size jumper. With that on and the leggings going down to my ankles I at least didn’t have to worry about having hairy legs and the jumper covered by bum and therefore my cock and balls which I could feel against the front of the leggings.

I sat on the bed and pulled on the Uggs. They were a bit of a tight fit but went on and covered the bottom of the leggings easily. I looked in the mirror. From the waist down I made a passable girl. I struck a few poses that I thought looked suitable female; hand on hip, the other hanging limp or in profile, sticking my bum out.

I stripped off and back into my tracksuit bottoms and t shirts. In the mirror I could see a trace of stubble and decided I would need to shave before experimenting with any make up. I wet shaved, going over any areas twice where it looked dark. I still had a bit of shadow when I had finished but I figured that I would be able to find something that would cover all of that up amongst all of the make up I had lifted from the girls flat.

I emptied all of the make up on the bed. I was racking my brains thinking about the over heard conversations I had picked up snatches of from girlfriends, my mum and sister in the past. How exactly did you put this stuff on?

Think.

After a while. Yeh, that’s it. Foundation, you start with foundation. Just like building a house; I smiled to myself. I tipped some of the foundation onto my fingers and began to apply it to my face, taking care to cover up any remaining shadow. I looked in the mirror when I finished at my now opaque face and wondered what to do next.

I had a flash of inspiration and stuffed the various bottles and tubes into the bag, grabbed the mirror off the wall and went into the front room. I switched on the TV and brought up the programme guide to the section where all of the lifestyle channels were listed. I scanned through until I found something suitable. On one of the channels was a programme where girls described as ‘plain janes’ were given a make over so they could meet someone they had a crush on. The episode on currently was repeated on the plus 1 channel in 30 mins.

30 mins or so later I sat in front of the TV with the mirror positioned to one side and watched as some girls make up was done for the camera. By pausing and rewinding key sections I began to apply eye shadow, highlighter, powder, eye liner and finally mascara to my own face. after about an hour all that was left to do was lipstick which I applied with a small stick.

I gave myself the once over in the mirror. I looked... well a bit like a girl. It was hard to tell with my own cropped hair clearly visible. I went back to the bedroom and grabbed the wig. Putting it on like a hat it took some pulling about before I felt it looked OK. It did make an improvement. I mean I wasn’t hot in any way, but I reckoned I would pass if was out on the street.

I decided to go for the whole look and dressed again in knickers, bra and leggings. I selected a baggy cotton top this time that fell over one shoulder exposing my bra strap and vest. If I was going to test my disguise I was going to head out so I pulled on the parka and sat on the bed to put the wedge sandals on.

The wedges were easy enough to walk in. I mean they made me walk different. I was getting pulled and held in several places at once by the bra, leggings and cropped parka. As I walked towards the shops I could feel the knickers disappearing into my bum crack. I wondered how girls put up with it.

My daydreaming lasted seconds broken by a couple of guys a few years younger than me shouting at me from across the street. I walked a bit faster, ignoring them, but smiling inside as my disguise was seeming to work. For a few hours I just wandered about; got a bus, sat in the park for a while. I was starving when I got back in. I had wanted to get a McDonalds but realised that while I wasn’t drawing much attention to myself so far if I opened my mouth there was no way anyone would think I was a girl.

Over the next few weeks I sussed out the situation a bit more in Primrose Hill. I had overheard enough poles and spanish girls chatting at full volume in the pubs in camden to recognise that they tended to have deeper voices than english girls. I reckoned I could get away with putting on a bit of accent and trying to pass myself off as an au pair. Problem was as much as I was getting the hang of the whole girl disguise I just didn’t see how that was gonna get me into to one of these Primrose Hill pads. These weren’t gonna have windows I could force or locks I could pick. I was beginning to realise that I hadn’t thought it through.

To be honest I was feeling a bit weird about the dressing up as a girl aspect too. Not because it was making me feel uncomfortable either; I kinda liked it. When I was at home I would more often than not put on leggings and sometimes I made myself up and sat looking at myself in the mirror.

I needed to clear my head a bit. Focus on what I could get from just one big job up there; jewellery and watches most likely. A few of those designer handbags might make a few quid (I would need to set up another ebay account to offload those). If I timed it right I could probably drive it all off in their Range Rover although I figured that might be pushing things too far.

I sat in the pub minding my own business as Friday evening became Friday night. As time passed the people changed from the after work crowd to those out for a night out. As I contemplated having another drink a group of girls, loud and juggling shots and bottled beers descended on the table.

‘Excuse us’ one of the girls looked at me, eyebrows raised, the question conveyed by the look.

‘Be my guest..’ I waved my hand, palm upwards ‘Sit’

‘Dank u’ her accent was thick..

‘Polish?’ I asked as she shifted up the bench seat next to me, making room for two other girls. Three more sat on the stools opposite us.

‘Lithuania’ she answered, pointing at herself.

‘Interesting’ I said.

Well I guess it was interesting on a professional level. It took around 15 minutes to discover that unlike the other girls Karolina (that was her name) was an au pair. It was crazy really. These girls all had been to university back home but they were over here earning the minimum wage in waitressing jobs or shops. Karolina was the leader of the pack however. The other girls clearly envied her role as au pair to the offspring of an interior designer and a banker.

I got the girls another round of shots. Five rounds later it was just me and Karolina. She had that hard faced look that so many of those eastern european girls have; strong cheek bones. Without the home dyed blonde highlights and garish make up she could have look quite boyish. More to the point I thought as looked at her while she traced a finger around my leg, I could look like her.

I had turned many a semi drunk one night stand into the following mornings theft of cash, credit card or mobile. As Karolina lay snoring quietly I was picking through her bag and a stack of paperwork tucked behind a vase on her dressing table. Amongst a few bills I found a few letters from the agency that had placed her as an au pair including an envelope with returned photocopied proof of ID’s. That might come in handy I thought, along with a mobile phone bill. Enough for me to set up one or two accounts in her name if needed I reckoned. I was playing a longer game here though. I quietly lifted her keys and found an unopened bar of soap in the bathroom and made impressions of a few of the keys. I could open her front door in seconds. I was more interested in the keys that would fit the high security, multi tumbler locks on the door of her employer.

When I got a text from Karolina later that morning I knew she had appreciated that here was a guy who wasn’t just gonna f**k and leave. That little note, a few ‘xxx’s’ and she was coming on like were an item. Yeh, sure I was gonna be around later. In the meantime I carried on handwashing the knickers and few other items of clothing I had nicked from her. Her place was a mess, she wasn’t gonna notice a pair of tights and a top from the bottom of a pile.

Karolina loosened up with takeaway and a cheap bottle of vodka inside her. I kept topping mine up with water as she got more drunk. I didn’t ask every question about work, the house in Primrose Hill. The Routine. She was talkative though. Every Wednesday Corrine (the wife) would take little Olivia (Livvi) to mother and toddler fitness class. She would get back around midday and be too wiped out to handle the kid anymore so Karolina would take over. The morning was meant to be Karolina’s morning off but she would more often than not have to get in a couple of hours early to do the laundry.

The following morning I pretended to watch TV as I studied the way Karolina applied her make up. I was pleased to see her working wardrobe was pretty much standard for an au pair in Primrose Hill; leggings, a long top covering her bum and the tops of her legs and ballet pumps. She had a distinctive distressed looking jacket that was clearly her pride and joy. I searched online for it later having seen it was from Miss Sixty but couldn’t find one. I wasn’t sure if it would even fit me but I knew that I was gonna need it to pull off my disguise.

I had more success finding a wig. Karolina had dead straight hair past her shoulder and I found a style that looked pretty much identical with the same messy highlights. Like most people living transiently within London it wasn’t unusual to see post getting lost and the credit card I applied for in her name and had delivered to an empty flat three doors down from me arrived soon enough. I used to slip in through the back door (I had changed the lock myself) and sift through the piles of junk mail to find the collection notices from the post office. I always made sure I paid the first months payment before rinsing the card and forgetting about it.

I had a few goes at dressing up as Karolina before I put my plan into action. Thanks to Facebook I had printed off a sheaf of pictures of her and blue-tacked these to the wall next to the mirror I had propped up. We were never going to be identical twins so I concentrated on trying to replicate her high cheekbones using light and shadow, using the same techniques copied from You Tube to make my nose appear smaller. The wig made a massive difference of course and I would put on everything I had nicked from her including knickers and some items of cheap jewellery before checking how I looked in the mirror. Close up I was never gonna pass for her but I was satisfied that anyone glancing out of a window or on the other side of the street would think I was her.

On Tuesday evening I offered to pick up a takeaway and headed over to Karolina. She hadn’t been in that long as was Skyping her family back home her voice louder and faster than normal in her own language. I took the powder from my pocket and added it into her Korma before taking the food through to where we were gonna eat in front of the TV on the sofa. Karolina finished her chat and flopped down next to me and began devouring her Indian.

Around an hour later she was shifting uncomfortably in her seat and then heading for the bathroom. She emerged 15 minutes later with a pained expression on her face and complaining of feeling ‘not well’. She was up and down for the next hour becoming increasingly paler and embarrased at how she must appear to me. I played the sympathetic role to the full, putting her to bed with a hot drink (with an additional ingredient) and offering to head to the late night chemists.

I felt a bit sorry for Karolina that night. She didn’t get much sleep but eventually wasn’t needing the toilet anymore. As it became light she fretted about work but as it was a Wednesday knew that she wouldn’t need to be in early. I was a bit anxious when she thought about texting Corrine to say she was unwell but I managed to persuade her that a few more hours in bed and she might feel fine. She managed a little smile for me as I brought her a hot drink before leaving. The full dose of Nytol would kick in pretty quickly I thought and sure enough within an hour she was fast asleep.

I now needed to work fast. Back in the main room I picked up Karolina’s coat and quickly shed my own. It was a little tight but I could get it on. I stuffed it into my holdall along with the biggest handbag I knew that Karolina owned; cheap black PU material but certainly well suited to my plan.

I couldn’t get back to my flat quick enough and was straight into a hot bath and gave myself a close shave. Out of the bath I pulled the black bag that contained my Karolina disguise and slapped the photos of her around the mirror before applying make up. I had to pause and control my breathing, tell myself not to hurry, but I knew I was up against the clock.

I had used the credit card I had taken out in Karolina’s name to buy a set of silcone breast forms. She didn’t own that many bras but I had sneaked a look at her size and nicked one in the same cup size and a similar style earlier in the week. The knickers I slipped on were hers; black and pink, not so skimpy that they didn’t cover my junk. I noticed these days I felt a little bit horny when I put knickers on. Any item of girls clothing in fact. I felt myself beginning to change and just felt quite calm and relaxed if I sat around in leggings and a top.

After twisting the bra round the right way (I couldn’t get the hand of fastening it behind my back) I popped the breast forms in and admired my new shape in profile. I pulled on some pale grey leggings that had a little bit of lace trim at the ankle and then layered a black spaghetti strap vest over a pink one. Finally I added the long sleeved top I had taken from Karolina on the first night I met her pulling it down at the front to cover any trace that there might be something that shouldn’t be found in a pair of girls leggings.

I took Karolina’s coat from my holdall and pulled it on. With blonde hair framing my artfully made up face and my au pairs ‘uniform’ of leggings and pumps I was satisfied that I looked like her. Taking her handbag I added in a few items of make up and the proofs and letters I had taken. I wanted anyone who looked in the bag to be satisfied that belonged to Karolina Wozcek and that I was Karolina.

I gave myself a final spritz of a body spray that I knew Karolina wore. I got the bus to Primrose Hill sitting on the bus listening to some music so I could avoid having to interact with anyone. I had a few hundred yards to walk to the house in Primrose Hill. I was careful to walk with smaller steps as wearing flat pumps I could have easily have walked at my normal pace as a guy. I casually looked around me as I approached the house wanting to make sure I didn’t bump into anyone who might know Karolina or the owners.

Standing on the opposite side of the street I had a final check around and then crossed the road and stepped quickly up to the front door on the hall floor. I opened Karolina’s handbag and fished out the keys I had got cut. I had wiped a little butter on them to help them into the lock as you never knew if a newly cut key would work that easily. I did the Chubb lock first but both keys worked fine and I gently pushed the big door open and stepped inside. If anyone had been looking all they would have seen was the au pair entering the house.

I hadn’t wanted to discuss the layout of the house with Karolina so starting at the bottom I quickly went from room to room to suss where everything was. The best stuff was in the master bedroom, mainly jewellery, but there wasn’t any cash lying around. I sat on the bed to think. My plan had been to nick whatever looked good and get out. I wasn’t planning on ever seeing Karolina again after this other than to return her coat and bag after shedding my disguise. The more I thought about it though I was beginning to wonder if all of the effort I had gone to getting into the house was worth it for the sake of a few bits of jewellery.

There was a walk in wardrobe off the bedroom and it was full of racks of designer shoes and handbags. I didn’t know that much about all of the labels but recognised a lot of the names. A quick scan and I began to realise that there was probably thousands of pounds of handbags and shoes there. A closer look revealed a big Louis Vuitton suitcase. I reckoned I could get at least half of the bags in there without too much trouble.

The next issue was would anyone living near the house expect to see the au pair come out dragging a large LV case behind her? I figured not and sat on the bed again to think. Sure, it might look odd to see the au pair with the case but what about the owner?

Karolina had told me a bit about Corrine. She was in her late 20’s and had given up work to have kids. It wasn’t as if they didn’t have the money after all. She hadn’t told me much more though but it didn’t take me long to suss out what she looked like from the photos dotted around the house. Corrine was certainly no stranger to the hair salon judging by the amount of different hair styles I could see. The easiest way for me to suss how she was styling her hair right now was by find a picture of her with Livvi the kid that Karolina was looking after. I groaned when I saw that she appeared to be wearing it really short like Anne Hathaway.

I reckoned the easiest way for me to pass as female was to go for long hair and plenty of make up. Still it might still work. I went back into the wardrobe and looked at a few things. Corrine was slimmer than Karolina but as she was taller their sizes were quite similar. This might just work I thought. I had kicked off my ballet pumps and headed down stairs two at a time. Like most houses keys that aren’t being used are never kept secure. In a shallow dish on the dresser in the hallway there was a key fob for a BMW. OK, only half a dozen of those parked in the street outside. Keeping the door on the latch I took the few steps down to the pavement and pointed the fob at the nearest Beemer.

Nothing. I tried the next one across the street, an X5. Success. Relocking it I went back inside and checked the clock. It was just approaching 10. I knew that Karolina wouldn’t be waking up anytime before midday but I still needed to get my skates on.

I went back into the walk in and pulled out the suitcase. I packed in every designer handbag in there, 15 in total with one left to use. Jewellery went in next. There weren’t any credit cards or cash but I found a nice Omega watch in a draw. Closing the case I put it back in it’s place and after a quick check that my Karolina disguise was holding up I headed out locking up carefully and trying to look casual as I headed away from the house.

I got a bus to Camden and went into the shop where I had stolen my original wig from. I wasn’t all that hopeful of finding a style exactly like Corrine’s but I didn’t have much choice and was up against the clock. Fortunately the shop had a catalogue at the front on the counter and I managed to get something in the approximate style and colour by presenting a handful of notes and pointing. The owner wasn’t fazed by dealing with some girl who didn’t have any English and I was back on the street and waiting for a bus 15 mins after going in.

Back in Primrose Hill after a short bus ride I was back inside the house by 11.15. I figured I had an hour no more, so I was running for the stairs almost as soon as I closed the door. Back in the walk in I was wondering what to wear and then had a flash of inspiration. I had sussed that the best way to pass as a girl was to check out what they had been wearing the day before. Whether it was my Mum or Sis or Karolina I had often nicked stuff they had been wearing the day before.

I rushed down to the utility room off the kitchen and sure enough there were neatly folded piles of clothes belonging to Mum, Dad and baby. First I needed to fix my face. I decided there wasn’t really time to re do my make up but a look in the walk in found a draw full of designer sunglasses. I put most of them into the case with the handbags, but kept a pair of Chloe ones that would cover most of my face. All I needed was some of Corrine’s lipgloss and with the sunglasses and wig I figured I would pass.

I went back downstairs found a bin bag and stripped off my Karolina disguise, blonde hair, leggings and vests all went into the bag along with the ballet pumps. From the pile of Corrine’s clothes I selected a pair of white cotton knickers pulling them up my legs and tucking my junk. A pair of her leggings, much nicer than the ones I had been wearing and then a white vest over a white spaghetti strap top with moulded cups. I tucked in my breast forms and then pulled on a wide necked camel coloured top. I finished my Corrine disguise off with an Armani cardigan that wrapped and overlapped at the front and covered my bum.

I fixed the wig upstairs in the big mirror in the walk in and then went through Corrine’s shoe racks. I found a pair of LK Bennett flat pumps in a leopard skin print. They were a bit of a squeeze but good enough and I put on the sunglasses before standing to check my appearance in the full length mirror. While I wasn’t 100% sure I would pass as Corrine I definitely looked like a Primrose Hill princess head to toe in freshly laundered designer clothes right down to the Abercrombie knickers.

Satisfied I pulled the case out and taking a large black Mulberry handbag I dragged it downstairs. I opened it and stuffed the bin bag with my Karoline disguise inside. Grabbing the keys to the car I opened the door and put the case on the step as I went to close the door.

‘Need a hand with that?’ I whirled around dropping the keys in shock. F**k I was pinched for sure! The postman smiled at me as he bent down and retrieved the keys and handed them back to me. He handed me the post and I opened the Mulberry and put it inside. I followed him down the steps to the pavement as he carried the case down. I had to think on my feet and activated the locks on the BMW. I smiled in a way that I hoped was sweet as sugar and he understood, wheeling the case to the boot and activating the tailgate. I followed him a few steps behind and opened the drivers door and put the Mulberry bag on the passenger seat. The postie slammed the boot shut.

‘No trouble at all’ He waved and went off away from the direction the car was facing. I flashed another smile and waved back before slipping behind the wheel and starting the engine. I checked the mirror and caught my reflection. As much as I was enjoying the sensation of wearing Corrine’s clothes I knew I needed to leave. I put the auto into drive and headed off in the direction of Kentish Town.

I never did get the Karolina’s coat back to her. I stopped in a supermarket car park and parked as far as I could from any other cars. I went to the boot and opened the case. I swapped the short Corrine wig for the blonde Karolina one and shut the case again. I guess I should have mentioned that I had got through a few pairs of latex gloves that day. As my Dad always said ‘Don’t get caught’.

I figured the police had already been called. Police rocking up in a street like that, wouldn’t be long before neighbours looked out of the window. Next thing is they’re talking to the feds, Corrine who’s got home and called them obviously. Someone might say they thought they saw the au pair come and go a few times. Didn’t think that was unusual of course. If anyone saw ‘Corrine’ leaving with an LV suitcase and driving off in her car they might not have questioned that either. Chances are if the postie was still around he would say he saw the woman stood next to policeman. He might pause, think, scratch his head. Well the woman he saw looked like this woman anyway.

So I walk away from the car wheeling the case behind me. Now i’m a blond, but not Karolina, not dressed like this.

I made £10k from my take that day. I sometimes wondered what happened to Karolina.