‘I’m game!’ Audrey says, gamely. She has a new floral pashmina on today and Paula wonders if the last one got too drainpipe-y during their visit to Dominic Shipman’s house.
‘I don’t know if it’s a good idea,’ Paula tries valiantly. ‘What about the police officer, that Columbo man investigating you? What about the weird messages I’ve been getting on my phone and online from strangers? It feels like we’re being watched.’ She doesn’t say the truth, which is that it feels likeshe’sbeing watched.
‘Pish posh,’ Audrey tells her. ‘I haven’t even seen Columbo in a week or so. I think he’s given up on me. And the messages have calmed down a bit now that you’ve made your Facebookprivate, haven’t they, Paula? Teddy got the article about you taken down as well, isn’t that right?’ Teddy nods, but Audrey doesn’t wait for a reply from Paula before continuing, ‘Ivy darling, tell us about this awful man who needs a good baseball bat around the head.’
There is a rustling on the line as Ivy moves about. ‘His name is Owen Max. He’s a serial abuser.’
‘What else do we know about him?’ Teddy’s voice is serious.
‘That’s all I need to know!’ Audrey pronounces.
Teddy tuts. ‘I meant more, like, what do we know about him that we might be able to use?’
‘Well,’ Ivy sounds reticent, ‘he’s a professional bodybuilder. He’s . . . big.’
‘He sounds far too dangerous,’ Paula gasps. ‘We can’t!’
‘Danger is my middle name!’ Audrey says gleefully.
‘He couldreallyhurt one of us. We can’t!’ Paula says with heavy emphasis.
‘Actually, my middle name is Meredith.’ Audrey’s voice is thoughtful. ‘But I never much liked that. Danger is far better. Audrey Danger Swift.’
‘Paula, stop panicking,’ Teddy instructs calmly. ‘Audrey, have a day off.’
‘It’s too much of a risk,’ Paula cries, still very much panicking. ‘We got lucky with Dominic Shipman, but what if they start looking into who reported him? What if they link her to Ivy and back to Gemma? Columbo’s coming after Audrey and the world is still calling me a murderer. Not to mention I’ve got Cra—’
She stops short of mentioning Craig and his henchman, and Audrey helpfully distracts the group. ‘It’s funny thatmore parents don’t actually give their children the middle name Danger, isn’t it? It would besofunny! I wish I’d thought of it when I was having my girls. What a waste. Harold and I went with the middle names Janice and Margaret. Very tedious. No wonder they’ve ended up making such boring life choices.’
‘We’ll have to think of something different for this guy, Owen.’ Ivy ignores both Paula’s protests and Audrey’s bizarre tangent. ‘We can’t confront him. Not even all four of us combined could push this guy down the stairs or get his head into freezer bags tied together. And we can’t keep getting men arrested like we did with Dominic.’ She makes a noise akin to a growl. ‘Even though Owen’s been accused of sexual assault by so many women.So many.Only two per cent of rape cases ever end up going to court, do you know that?’ She sounds enraged.
‘I do know that,’ says former lawyer Teddy. ‘Why do you think I obsessively played the Powerball lottery? It wasn’t so I could kill my husband and move into an overpriced apartment with a pool I never use. It was so I could get away from the terrible justice system I worked in.’
‘You could’ve got a new job,’ Paula mutters, but Teddy doesn’t hear her. Or chooses not to.
‘I think we should talk more about this,’ Teddy says loudly. ‘Let’s do something fun together this week, where we can properly hatch a plan. A better plan this time.’ She pauses. ‘And it’ll be good for you, Paula. Distract you from this argument with your daughter and from any remaining internet troll stuff.’
‘I’ve got something fun we can do,’ Audrey says. There is mischief in her voice. She leaves a dramatic pause, which – Paulathinks – issoAudrey. ‘I reckon,’ Audrey begins, ‘we should get on a private jet and go on holiday to Saint-Tropez.’
‘To plot a murder?’ Paula says, incredulous.
‘Yes, my darling!’ Audrey laughs. ‘Why the hell not?’
26
Paula didn’t expect to feel so disappointed with her own decision.
She’s sitting at her kitchen table, staring into space, wondering if the house has always been so . . . silent? She’s spent the morning cleaning and tidying, trying to keep herself distracted. She’s trying not to think about her friends, all packing their suitcases and laughing about who’ll take the communal hairdryer, and whether they need special foreign plugs.
ButofcoursePaula couldn’t go traipsing off on holiday with them. Of course she couldn’t! With practically no notice! In the midst of a big falling-out with her daughter? And so soon after John’s death!
Everyone on the internet apparently already thinks she murdered him. A trip to Saint-Tropez would really be the icing on the troll cake. And what about everyone else? What would the neighbours think of her sudden disappearance? The telltale sunburn upon her return would be the talk of the street. She’s already getting funny looks over her new Porsche.
But why should she care what strangers and neighbours might think?
If Paula’s being honest, she’s never really much liked this area anyway, or the people who live here. John was the one who chose this town. He was the one excited about the sturdy former council house, with its modern interiors and functional garden. He was the one delighting over the size of the double garage.
Obviously, Paula has made it her home over these last thirty-three years, but she never felt particularly attached to it – or to the small but busy town on her doorstep. And good Lord, she despairs over the number of arguments its inhabitants seem to rejoice in starting on the town’s Facebook page. It’s enough to make anyone want to move.
