‘Absolutely! He turns up every now and again, asks all the same questions and then goes away. Goodness, it’s been four months or so now since Harold died. The police don’t have the money or the resources to log a neighbourhood mugging, never mind endlessly pursue an eighty-one-year-old over the death of her very sick husband. He’ll go away soon!’ Audrey reaches over again and this time she squeezes Paula’s hand hard. ‘And we’ll lose him in Central London traffic in a mo, you’ll see.’
Paula tries to sneak another look in the wing mirror. The car is so far back, Audrey surely can’t be certain who it really is following them. What if it’s . . . What if it’s the loan sharks?
‘I promise, it’s fine,’ Audrey says again. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’
Paula finds herself reassured and she sits back up.
‘OK,’ she says at last. ‘If you’re sure, I trust you.’
She feels Audrey’s eyes on her. ‘I am sure,’ she replies, then adds with warmth, ‘Thank you.’
They pass a sign about ULEZ and Paula again stops herself asking about the charge. She trusts Audrey.
It doesn’t take long for them to lose the car, and forty minutes later, they crawl past Piccadilly and on to Hyde Park Corner. Paula stares out of the window in awe at the giant stone buildings on Knightsbridge, full of luxury stores and five-star hotels.
‘We can pop into The Lanesborough for a drink after car shopping, if you fancy?’ Audrey comments, revving theengine as they dawdle through traffic. Paula nods dumbly, looking up at the huge white Regency hotel. ‘They’re absolute darlings in there,’ Audrey continues, chunky gold bracelets jangling on her wrist. ‘Buchanan on the door is the nicest chap you’ll ever meet, and the head concierge, Simons, can get you anything at all at the drop of a hat. Did you know they also have a butler service for your room? Although you’ll never get Amos; he’s far too in demand.’
‘Butlers?’ Paula repeats dumbly, trying to imagine such a thing.
‘Or The Ritz isn’t far from here,’ Audrey waves in a direction behind them. ‘It can be a tad touristy, but you can’t get away from the fact that they truly know how to do old-world glamour. Their afternoon teas arelegendary. The dining room is Michelin-starred but personally, I’d pick a freshly baked scone with Cornish clotted cream over almost anything, wouldn’t you?’
Paula tries to remember the last time she had a scone. Or Cornish clotted cream. Or even cream. She can vaguely remember Tilly and her wife, Misha, offering her some Coffeemate in her hot drink once. She said no. It was a bit too decadent for Paula. Even coffee feels a bit too exciting.
‘We could make a weekend of it sometime!’ Audrey says excitably, twirling her pashmina between fingers that should be on steering wheels. ‘Afternoon tea at The Ritz, then some cocktails at The Laney, followed maybe by Dinner by Heston Blumenthal. His restaurant does a Sunday roast with the most tender beef you’ve ever tasted, I guarantee it. And his potatoes! Oh my darling, they’re so fluffy, I snuck some home with me and used them as pillows on my four poster.’She cackles at her own joke, then hacks a cough. ‘We’d have to stay the night at The Ritz, of course, but that’s no problem. They keep a suite available for me when I’m visiting. Although it seems a little silly now we have Teddy around the corner.’
‘How much does a room at The Ritz cost?’ Paula asks, her brain jumbling with the confusing image of a roast potato pillow.
‘Oh, the Deluxe Suites start at around three and a half.’
‘Three and a half what?’ Paula is genuinely baffled.
Audrey shrieks, ‘Thousand pounds, my darling!’ She glances over. ‘Don’t look so shocked. The Lanesborough’s royal suite costs twenty-four thousand pounds a night.’
Paula swallows hard.
‘To be fair,’ Audrey muses, ‘itisa seven-bedroom, 450-square-metre apartment with views over Hyde Park and Buckingham Palace Gardens. Amos the butler let me have a sneaky peek once. Not to be sniffed at.’
Paula’s head is still spinning as they turn onto Park Lane, pulling up in front of another tall white building. This one is glass-fronted with huge shiny cars parked up inside, glinting in the cold sun.
She spots Teddy and Ivy just inside the door. Ivy sees them first, waving excitedly and looking perkier than Paula remembers from last week. Maybe she’s a bit of an engine head. Seb calls himself an engine head, but that mainly seems to consist of racing Mario cars with other grown men via a headset on a computer.
A tall man appears from nowhere as Audrey leaps out of the car. She throws her car keys at him, thanking him by name. He smoothly slides into the driver’s seat, as Paulascrambles out. She wonders how Audrey has so much grace at eighty. Is it a rich thing? Will she learn? Does she want to?
The valet whisks the Jaguar away as Audrey bundles Paula inside.
‘Let’s spend some of your millions!’ she says with glee as they enter the biggest car showroom Paula’s ever seen.
Time to buy a car.
16
Paula is having fun. She’s actually having fun!
‘Look at this one!’ Teddy calls out across the room. Her perfect hair is today pulled back behind her ears, showcasing statement earrings that are bright gold and round, with a large stone in the centre. They look heavy and painful. But beautiful.
She stands back, waving towards a low sporty car in a flashy red. Paula, Ivy and Audrey all gather round to ooh and aah over the Porsche.
It turns out, buying a very expensive car is a very different experience from buying a fifth-hand 2011 Ford Mondeo. This place gives new meaning to ‘high end’. Paula, Audrey and Ivy are the only customers here, but it feels like that was supposed to happen, rather than the result of the cost of living crisis finally hitting all the millionaires.
