John’s face suddenly fills her vision. She pictures him here, with her, viewing this ridiculous house. Then she pictures him dead in his car, covered in blood.
This should be her decision and these women are trying to force it. ‘No,thank you,’ she adds firmly.
Audrey and Teddy seem unfazed by her emotional reaction. ‘Well,’ Teddy says, ‘if you don’t want a mansion, whatdoyou want?’
Paula considers this question as they return to the main house, her anger draining away. They pass across ornate floors that the dog takes a moment to wee on. For a while, she allows herself to imagine spending some of this money. Not just on small things like shoes and taxis, but on something real. What would she buy if she had no choice but to spend it?
She thinks of the bus that brought her here and the wait she’ll have at a bus stop for it to take her home again. She thinks of that curry smell and the man who squeezed his rear end into the seat beside her. And she thinks of how he also smelled like food. Then Paula thinks of how she’d started to wonder if it was actually her who smelled.
John was the only one who ever drove – though she’s had her licence all this time. For thirty-three years, he always had sensible cars – a Peugeot, a Volvo, a Ford Mondeo. She liked that last one, that Ford, but goodness knows it was now a total wreck. ‘Unsalvageable’ and ‘mangled’, the report she’d received read. Which was not a very nice image for Paula.
Across the hall, Audrey and Teddy debate the authenticity of another large painting by the front door.
‘A car,’ Paula whispers entirely to herself. ‘I’d buy a car. Iwantto buy a car.’ A feeling of excitement balloons in her chest, making her feel momentarily light-headed. She floats out of the mansion and into the bright sunlight, feeling heady and alive for the first time in a long time.
And it is only as Audrey gathers her up in an embrace to say their goodbyes, getting her scarf caught on Paula’s glasses, that she realises she hasn’t had a chance to ask Teddy about that other thing. About that otherbigthing.
She needs to know whether this new acquaintance with the American accent and the shiny hair really meant it. If she was telling the truth when she said she and Audrey had both killed their husbands.
11
The next morning, Paula is more than a little alarmed to find Audrey and Teddy waiting on her doorstep.
‘We’re going on a recruitment drive,’ Teddy tells her cheerfully without a hello. There are new sunglasses on her head today. The leopard-print frames match the print on her low-cut top. Audrey bundles past Paula and into her hallway, ‘Grab your coat, my darling, it’s chilly out there today.’ She doesn’t wait for Paula to follow instructions, instead locating the coats cupboard and helping herself to the nearest hanging jacket. Audrey herself seems to be wearing two coats – as well as her signature flowing scarf.
‘Are these the keys for your front door?’ Audrey calls now, picking up a set by the door and herding a nodding Paula out into the front garden.
‘Where are we going?’ Paula asks dumbly, as Audrey helps her into the jacket. It’s huge on her and she wonders whether to mention that it belongs to her son, Seb.
‘I told you,’ Teddy replies coolly, running long fingernails through blonde hair. ‘We’re recruiting.’
‘Recruiting for what?’ Paula shakes her head, following Teddy down the path. She scans the road. At least there are no photographers outside today.
Teddy glances back at Paula over her shoulder. ‘For The Lottery Winner Widows Club,’ she grins.
‘I’m driving!’ Audrey sings. ‘You can sit in the front, Paula.’
This makes Teddy snort, and Paula understands her amusement when she spots Audrey’s car.
There is no back seat.
It’s a Jaguar E-Type classic. A flashy, silver convertible with the roof already down. Teddy throws long limbs into the passenger side, and pulls Paula in – along with her giant boy coat – and onto her lap. In the footwell beneath them, yesterday’s dog yips. Audrey revs the engine, pulling violently out into the road and taking off at speed. The older woman’s scarf flicks violently in the car around them, briefly blinding Paula as they launch over a speed bump.
Paula misses the curry bus.
‘She’s a beaut, isn’t she?’ Audrey yells into the wind as they hit the open road, her hair and scarf whipping up around her face. She surely cannot see a thing. ‘It was my husband’s car. He had it fully restored – no expense spared, of course. 1962 Jag, Series 1, the original 3.8 straight six. Four-speed Moss Box. Original Marston-style aluminium radiator, fifteen-inch Chrome wire wheels.’
Paula nods politely, with no idea what any of it means.
Audrey cackles. ‘Of course I have no idea what any of that means,’ she says. ‘But he said it all the time.’ She pauses to narrowly miss a tree before continuing, ‘He refused to actually drive it so it sat in our garage for all those years! Turns out it’s super fun to drive! And I can get it up to ahundred, easily. Shall we?’ She glances around for approval. Paula tries to protest but she’s frozen in terror. She wants to ask where they’re going and what they’re doing, but can’t focus. Instead, she clings furiously to the car door handle as Audrey whips the steering wheel side to side, veering all over the small country roads.
Teddy sighs, shifting underneath Paula. ‘Audrey, you’re scaring our new friend again. Slow down a bit, can you? Haven’t you already killed enough people?’
Audrey throws her head back to hack that laugh as Paula grips the door even harder.
Killed?
Paula had just about convinced herself Teddy’s kitchen confession was a joke, so what does this mean? She really did it? They both did?
