Something has happened to Pauline overnight. She feels so different and she can’t quite pinpoint why. She really should be miserable and in the absolute doldrums about all this. Her awful husband is back from the dead and wants all their money, just as she’s starting to enjoy spending it. Her children aren’t speaking to her and thinks she’s a terrible person. And everyone on the internet thinks she’s a murderer. Never mind the police on her friend’s tail. Oh, and she might be about to throw up into a paper bag if they don’t land soon.
But she’snotmiserable. She’s happy. Happier than she’s been in ages – years! Perhaps even decades. Five days in the South of France with TLWWC has transformed her into a whole new woman. No longer is she meek little Paula, terrified by everything and everyone around her. Now she’s Pauline. Pauline with a brand-new Porsche, a new group offriends and a whole new set of underwear courtesy of a helpful French concierge.
Oh! And she’s got atan! She hasn’t had a tan since she was a teenager!
Pauline is fearless. Pauline is a winner. Pauline is a member of a murder club who kill misbehaving husbands. And Pauline’s husband is about to get what’s coming to him.
Paula the Dog barks from her seat beside Audrey.
Pauline reaches over and strokes the pup, always careful to avoid the sensitive nipples. She can have that old name. She’s welcome to it.
For the first time in three decades, Pauline feels like she’s taking control of her life. So many choices have been made for her over the years, foisted upon her. Now she’s making some for herself and it feels . . . good. Really good.
Up at the front of the plane, the disinterested steward twitches the curtain. Their previous stewardess, Connie, had to fly to Canada for a VIP client, according to Audrey, so she wasn’t available for their plane ride home today. It’s a shame. Pauline liked how much she smiled. She’s going to do more smiling herself from now on. Be more Connie, Pauline tells herself. She considers making it her new motto, but then remembers she’s already changed her name once this week. People might get confused.
The new steward peers out at the group disapprovingly, daring them to ask for something. The young man seemedverydispleased by their arrival on board earlier. There was a great deal of sighing and tutting over the fact that they weren’t dazzling celebrities in designer gear. Pauline’s fairly sure Sigourney Weaver wouldn’t get this kind of tutty treatment.
To be fair, Teddyisin designer gear, but you wouldn’t necessarily think it to look at her. Her clothes mostly look like very thin pieces of pink material stretched around body parts. Very expensive pieces of pink material. Of course, Pauline likes the clothes a lot. But just on Teddy. They wouldn’t work on her.
Audrey takes out her earphones. ‘Have we made a decision about the . . . plan?’ She eyeballs the steward. He’s still fifteen feet away, still on his phone, still beyond disinterested. Despite this, Audrey leans closer to the group, whispering, ‘We need a code for talking about this. How about we say . . .’ – she pauses, then her eyes widen – ‘. . .cookinstead of kill?’
Ivy smiles. ‘Good idea!’ She turns to Pauline. ‘So then, what, er,mealare we cooking for John tonight?’
‘I get what you’re doing there,’ Audrey says, ‘but that doesn’t actually make sense. You just asked what meal we’re killing for John tonight.’
Teddy shuffles closer in her seat. ‘I think it’s fine to take some liberties with the code, Audrey. The code is not set in stone. You only just made the code up, babe.’
‘Well, assuming no one knows he’s back from the dead yet,’ Pauline muses, ‘the actual, er,mealwe cook doesn’t really matter so much, right? It’s all about getting rid of the . . . leftovers.’
‘Quite,’ Teddy nods, looking faintly amused. ‘So what are our options? Do you have any woods near your house, Pauline? Maybe we could get John to . . .’ She glances over at the steward. Not a flicker of interest. ‘Maybe if John was willing to come to the woods, we could have a . . .picnic, and then bury the . . . er, leftovers.’
‘Are there bears in the woods?’ Pauline asks, suddenly feeling less brave.
‘No, but there’s a lot of pope shit!’ Audrey cackles confusingly.
Teddy shakes her head at Pauline. ‘No bears. Or pope shit. There’s nothing to worry about like that. Although bears would be handy to get rid of evid— leftover picnic food.’
Audrey looks inspired. ‘Ooh, if we’re going to the woods maybe we could pick up some mushrooms. You know’ – she narrows her eyes – ‘the Agatha Christie kind of mushrooms. For his din-dins?’
‘John doesn’t like mushrooms,’ Pauline explains. ‘He says they’re too slimy.’
Teddy sniffs. ‘Audrey, we’re only going to the woods to dispose of . . . leftovers. We don’t want to go to the woods to get Agatha Christie mushrooms and then return to the woods later with John’s bod—’ She sighs. ‘Leftovers. That would be far too much of a palaver.’
Pauline shakes her head, feeling confused. The code is starting to take on a life of its own. ‘Well, I don’t think the woods are any use anyway. They’re too far away. I’d suggest the back garden, but Seb is always in his shed.’
Audrey looks disappointed. ‘Oh, what a shame. I was hoping I could get some soil while we’re out there. My local Dobbies has shut down and I need to re-pot some plants. My passion flower’s roots are getting wildly out of hand. They keep threatening to strangle Paula the Dog.’ Paula the Dog yips fearfully.
‘I’ve got an idea!’ Teddy says brightly. ‘What if we parcel him up in bubble wrap, secure him carefully in a crate andhave him sent special delivery to New York? We can then fly out and bury him beside my dead husband!’
‘You weren’t using the code there at all,’ Ivy points out nicely.
‘Not atall,’ Audrey adds for emphasis, shaking her head.
‘Oh, he’s not listening.’ Teddy waves her hand at the steward. She’s correct; he is not.
‘He’s not very friendly, is he?’ Pauline says. ‘The steward, I mean.’
‘If we crash into a snow-covered mountain, we’ll eat him first,’ Audrey pronounces.
