‘My house. In Surrey. Do you need the postcode? My children get very frustrated when I don’t give them a postcode straight away. They just want to put everything into Google Maps these days, don’t they? But I’m not so good with the newer technology. Tilly keeps trying to help me with Face ID on my phone but it never seems to know who or what I am—’
The woman on the phone interrupted her at this point. ‘Paula, are you able to raise your arms above your head and has your face dropped on one side at all?’
‘Oh no, I’m not having a stroke. I’m just not very good on the phone. I actually did think I was having a stroke recently! But it was just camera flashes going off. I remembered the letters you’re supposed to check for a stroke though. It’s ABC, isn’t it?’
‘Paula, can I ask why you’re calling?’
Paula held her breath for a minute. ‘I’m not entirely sure how to explain this.’
‘I understand, Paula, but don’t worry, I’ve heard everything before, believe me. There’s nothing you can say that would embarrass me.’
‘Right. Well . . .’ – she took a deep breath – ‘someone came to my house just now. The name was Teddy, I think. Although – for goodness’ sake – that wasn’t her real name. It was . . . Oh, darn it, I’m afraid I can’t remember. I’m useless with names, you know. I’m constantly getting my children’s names wrong. You’d think I could tell the difference between them. They’re awfully different.’
‘Who’s different? Teddy?’
‘No, no, Seb and Tilly. My children. But I’m ringing about Teddy.’
‘Is Teddy a real person or a cuddly toy?’
‘Yes, a person. Sorry.’
‘Take your time, Paula. What’s happened to Teddy?’
‘Oh yes’ – she cleared her throat – ‘Teddy – I think it was Teddy. I’m fairly certain that was the name – Teddy’s won the lottery, like me—’
‘You’ve won the lottery?’
‘I didn’t mean to say that. Please don’t tell anyone! I wasn’t going to tell a soul because my husband, John, he always said people would take advantage of us, but he was in a car accidentand died a couple of months ago. Goodness, can it be that long? Time goes by so quickly, doesn’t it? And it took us quite a long time to get his ashes shipped over. And his brothers got drunk at the funeral and told everyone about the money, and then Tilly thought it would be a good idea to hold a press conference—’
‘A press conference?’
‘I know! Can you imagine anyone thinking that would be sensible? For goodness’ sake! But that’s when I thought I was having my stroke. And it’s not ABC, is it? It’s FAST, I remember now because I looked up the T. I thought it meant telephone but apparently it means Time. Which doesn’t make all that much sense to me, what do you think? Are you supposed to check what time it is? How does that help? Anyway, I think Amy from the lottery talked Tilly into it. The press conference, I mean.’ She paused. ‘I was very upset and overwhelmed, and I’m afraid I ran away. And now the internet won’t stop talking about me, and my children are insisting I go to grief counselling with them.’
‘It does sound like you need someone to talk to.’
‘That’s not why I’m ringing! The reason I’m ringing is this Teddy woman—’
‘Teddy’s a woman?’
‘Yes! It’s a funny name, isn’t it? I’m glad you think so, too, I thought I was maybe just being a fuddy-duddy. Tilly thinks I can be a bit old-fashioned about things, but itisa funny name for a woman in her forties, isn’t it?’
‘Paula, are you sure you’re not experiencing any symptoms of a stroke?’
‘No, no, I’m fine. This isn’t about me. It’s about Teddy. So anyway, Teddy said she’d won the lottery, too, and thatshe’d . . . done something to her husband. I thought I’d better call the police but it didn’t feel like something I should be bothering 999 about. It didn’t sound like it had happened recently either, but goodness, who knows? Maybe I should’ve called the emergency number, but I do worry about tying up the line. They’re always so stern about that kind of thing and I wouldn’t want to get it wrong or be told off. I’m so sorry, I know I’m rambling. My husband, John, used to tell me off for waffling, but it feels like I’ve barely spoken since he died. Sometimes it’s so hard to talk to the people closest to you, isn’t it? To be honest with them? And now I can’t shut up, holding you up when you have crimes to be solving. But I really thought I ought to ring the police. Have I done the right thing?’
The woman on the end of the line paused for what felt like a very, very long time before answering.
‘Paula, you’ve called the NHS non-emergency number, 111, not the police, who are 101.’
The woman had kindly offered to transfer her, but Paula felt too silly. The conversation had illustrated just how absurd she would sound reporting such a bizarre encounter. After all, what was there to go on? A strange woman whose nickname Paula wasn’t sure of – never mind recalling her real name – had claimed she’d murdered her missing husband two years ago. Even if they took her seriously – and they were much more likely to think she was a crackpot – there wasn’t anything they could follow up on, was there?
Although . . . there was an address. She could give them that.
As she left her kitchen yesterday, Teddy had insisted Paula must come to meet her friend. The one other member of this group she said they wanted to form. The Lottery WinnerWidows Club. That’s what she’d called them. She said they had two more women to approach. Women who’d all won the lottery, who all had dead husbands. She’d winked again at that point. Teddy seemed to be a big winker.
Paula hadn’t been able to take it in. She still can’t now. More lottery winners with dead husbands? Surely not?
Teddy had written down her address in the Surrey Hills, not too far away from Paula’s home. She’d then given her a time and date. Tomorrow.
