‘Why should we?’ he replies coldly. Paula can feel eyes on them. Anyone who wasn’t watching before, definitely is now.
‘It’s my dad’s funeral!’ Tilly yells and Pete glowers back.
‘It’smylittle brother’s funeral! We’recelebratinghim.’
Paula reaches for Tilly. ‘Come on, sweetheart,’ she murmurs, desperate to get away from the escalating horribleness. For a long moment, her daughter and brother-in-law glare hotly at one another, before Tilly turns away at last. As they walkaway, Pete shouts something at their retreating backs. It is louder than the argument, louder than the karaoke, louder than the room’s low conversations. Every single person hears his words – acquaintances, relatives, neighbours, bar staff.
‘You don’t deserve the twenty-one million! I deserved to win the lottery so much more than any of you!’
Paula feels her stomach drop right out of her. She turns in slow motion to stare at Pete. His face is red and twisted, he’s panting lightly. She catches a few gasps from the room’s occupants and whispers oflotteryandtwenty-one million. All eyes are on her. She feels Tilly take her arm. Her heart racing, she reaches for the notebook, squeezing it tightly.
‘Let’s get out of here, Mum,’ her daughter says and her voice is shaking slightly. ‘The sandwiches are all gone anyway.’
Somewhere in the faraway distance, Paula notes that John’s secretary, Bridget, is still wailing, as loud as ever. And who could blame her?
5
‘We’ve got a surprise for you, Mum.’ Tilly plonks herself down in John’s chair across from Paula, then waves at Seb across the kitchen. ‘Haven’t we, bro?’
Seb trots over, holding a glass of lemon squash like he is nine years old. Paula wonders if she should ask him if he’s going to the dentist and paying his taxes like other grown-ups. Although it’s quite possible her son’s occasional part-time work for his friend’s food truck doesn’t earn him enough to reach the tax threshold.
‘We think it’ll really cheer you up.’ Tilly’s still speaking and her words start to sink in. A surprise? Oh goodness, no! No, thank you. Paula’s never much enjoyed surprises and there have already been far too many in recent months. Her husband of thirty-three years heading off on a business trip to the Austrian Alps and dying in a freak car accident, for one.
Tilly regards her mother with worried eyes. ‘Are you looking after yourself, Mum?’ She leans in, her voice softer. ‘Have you had a shower today?’
Paula feels defensive. ‘I had a bath last night,’ she says, wondering if it actuallywaslast night. The days have all been blurring into one a bit lately. Maybe it was a few nightsago? She’s definitely had at least two or three baths since the funeral two weeks ago. Atleast.Would it be too transparent to give herself a sniff?
Tilly disappears into the hallway, reappearing with a carrier bag. She pulls out a pink jumper with a flourish. She holds it up, smiling widely. ‘What do you think?’
Paula blinks at her. ‘You bought me a jumper?’ She’s genuinely touched. She can’t remember the last time anyone bought her something for no reason or—
‘Actually it’s Misha’s,’ Tilly shrugs. ‘But you can keep it. I nicked it this morning for you to wear during your surprise.’
Paula frowns. ‘So the jumper isn’t the surprise?’
Tilly shakes her head, looking mischievous. ‘Nope!’ She places the jumper on the table in front of Paula. ‘It’s your colour and I thought it would look nice. You’ve been wearing the same blouses on rotation for decades.’ She catches Paula’s expression and adds hastily, ‘Not that they don’t look lovely! They do! But I figured you might like to start making a few changes.’ She checks her watch again, looking excited. ‘Come on, Mum, put it on. It’s high time we celebrated you.’ She clucks happily, gesturing at the jumper on the table. When Paula doesn’t react, her daughter leans in closer, her voice conspiratorially low. ‘You’re going to love the surprise.’ She nods at Seb who looks a lot less certain.
‘Um, Tills, are we sure—’ She cuts him off with a full-wattage big-sister glare. This works – it’s always worked – and Seb concedes, giving a petrified thumbs up.
‘Come on, Mum,’ Tilly instructs, standing up, still scowling at her brother. ‘Grab your coat.’
‘I don’t want to go outside,’ Paula says mildly, but with something approximating stubbornness.
Tilly sighs and re-takes her seat,John’sseat. ‘Mum, we’re worried about you.’ She pauses, then reaches for Paula’s hand. ‘You’ve barely left the house since Dad died. It’s like you’re sitting here, waiting for him to come home and tell you what to do next. The funeral was two weeks ago and you’ve barely said a word since.’ She squeezes Paula’s fingers. ‘I think you’re in a slump – which is understandable after everything you’ve been through – but you need todosomething. You need to start making the most of your life and enjoying your money. I bet you haven’t spent a single penny of it yet, have you?’ She shakes her head. ‘Frankly, you might as well have given it to the idiot uncles. At least they would’ve enjoyed spending it.’
‘On iPads and whisky,’ Seb adds in a murmur.
Paula doesn’t say anything for a minute. And then she picks up the pink jumper and pulls it on over her head. It’s too small on her, and tight around the neck. The colour is too bright. She suddenly feels very claustrophobic.
Tilly smiles widely. ‘It looks lovely, Mum!’ she tells her warmly, then nods decisively. ‘You ready?’
‘Yes,’ Paula replies, trying to smile, though she feels sick with dread.
Tilly leads Paula and Seb through the hallway.
Paula’s head spins as she grabs for her coat, immediately feeling for John’s notebook in the pocket. She can’t go anywhere without it. What if someone found it? Really, she should burn or shred it, but she can’t quite bring herself to do it.
Tilly’s hand is on the door handle. She looks abuzz. Where could they possibly be going? Her daughter’s right that she’s barely left the house lately, but the outside world seems so far away at the moment. She’s aware of how disconnected she is, but is there anything so wrong with that? What’s so importantabout connecting with the world anyway? The world is horrible.
