‘When he died,’ Audrey continues, and now she is looking at Pauline. ‘I knew I needed to find you. I only had your name from the report, butPaula Sheldoncame up with about fifty million results on Google.’ She sighs. ‘I do miss the days of Yellow Pages, you know, much more convenient.’ She pauses, then smiles tightly. ‘I had no idea what to do, but then a picture of you appeared in the newspaper. You’d won the lottery and become a widow all in the same week! And it was pretty obvious to me that you’d killed your husband.’ She pauses and the strange smile gets wider. ‘Or so it seemed at the time.’
‘Wait.’ Ivy holds up her hands, her face screwed up. ‘Why would you need to find Pauline? What am I missing?’
‘That’s what I’d like to know,’ Pauline says coldly. ‘Why this elaborate . . .scamto befriend me? Why all the lies? Why pretend to like me and—’
‘I wasn’t pretending!’ Audrey interrupts, looking wounded. ‘I adore you, Pauline. I love all of you. You are my friends, my dear, dear friends.’
Teddy leans closer, her expression unreadable. ‘But you only started this group – you only brought us together as The Lottery Winner Widows Club – as some kind of . . .coverto find Pauline?’
Audrey looks down at her feet. ‘That’s how it started.’
‘Did you even win the lottery?’ Ivy’s voice is barely a whisper.
‘Of course!’ Audrey is indignant. ‘But it wasn’tquitewhat I said. It wasn’t half a million, it was thirty-two pounds.’
‘So the Scottish castle . . .?’ Teddy’s face is darkening.
Audrey brightens. ‘That’s real! My family really does have money. I’ve been paying my own way with you all, haven’t I? I told you I didn’t win as much as the rest of you. I just . . . well, I just . . . exaggerated. I’m still a lottery winner, like you three. Technically.’
Teddy scoffs at this, furious indignation clear on her face. Ivy looks disappointed and confused.
Pauline puts her head in her hands. ‘Butwhy? Why did you need to find me so badly? What’s this all about?’
Audrey sighs. ‘Because, my darling’ – her breathing is ragged – ‘I didn’t really kill Harold. I meant what I said before. I hadn’t seen him in years, not since I dropped him off. The moment I found out what he’d done to our daughters – the abuse – I dumped him in a care home as far away from Scotland and our family as possible.’ She nods at Pauline. ‘That meant Surrey, I’m afraid, where you had to look after that disgusting, creepy little man.’ She shudders. ‘No wonder you called him Handsy Harry, quite apt.’ She looks down. ‘But stowing him five hundred miles away wasn’t enough for my youngest daughter, Nina. She couldn’t let it go. We tried therapy and medication, but she couldn’t . . . I couldn’t help her. None of us could help.’ She nods, and it’s clear she’s trying not to get emotional. ‘I didn’t know what she was planning until after she’d done it. She knew what medication her father was on. She knew what too much would do to him. I don’t know how she got hold of it, but she did. Then she went down to see him at the care home and force-fed him that overdose of Digitalis. She’s the one who watched him die. My daughter killed him. She did it.’
There is silence in the room.
‘Your daughter?’ Teddy’s eyes are wide. ‘She . . . so you didn’t . . .’
‘But,’ Pauline is still confused, ‘how am I—’
Audrey sighs, looking at her intensely. ‘My darling,you saw her. You were the only one who knew she was there in his room that day. And you saw her leaving after she’d done it. I needed to find you and work out what you knew. Make sure you weren’t going to tell anyone it was my child, my Nina. I had to be sure that no one was asking you questions. That you hadn’t told Columbo anything.’
Pauline screws up her face. ‘But I didn’t! I don’t remember seeing anyone . . .’ She shakes her head, trying to remember that day from so many months ago when Handsy Harry Woodbead died. They’d just lost fellow residents Vinnie and Floyd the same week and she’d been so sad about their deaths. It was a busy day. It was always busy at the care home. There were so many people who needed things, so many hands to hold, so many medications to check. That day – it was a weekend when Harry died – a Sunday. She’d been working all weekend and she was tired. Her feet hurt. She remembered the plimsolls pinching her little toe where her socks had a small hole. She remembered sighing when her boss, Gary, asked her to go and check on Harry.
Nobody on the staff much liked Harry. He was leery and creepy. He always smelled bad, even immediately after a bath. But, as the biggest pushover on staff, Pauline nearly always ended up being the one running around after him. She always ended up being the one groped by him.
Therewasa woman there that day . . . a redhead with an accent. Was she Scottish? Pauline couldn’t recall. She’d asked what room Harry Woodbead was in. But Pauline doesn’tremember seeing her leave, and she certainly didn’t think anything more of it. Not even after she found Handsy Harry dead.
Pauline worked at that care home for twenty-five years. She was used to finding dead bodies. No, notused to, because you never really get used to something like that. But she had seen enough of them not to scream or run about the hallways making a fuss, like some of the newer staff members sometimes did.
He was in bed. He looked peaceful enough. He was even smiling a little.
She checked his pulse and went to inform her manager, Gary. Gary had called the authorities. Everyone thought he’d taken the meds himself, ended things. There were whispers that Harry must’ve been storing them up to take all at once. At the time she’d felt only fear that she’d be in trouble for not double-checking he was taking them as prescribed. Someone with a badge had come and asked Gary questions, but only because it was standard procedure. No one had asked her anything particularly interesting or followed up afterwards. She hasn’t even heard from the care home since she’s been on leave. Shouldn’t Columbo have been in touch if he’d been assigned to the case and thought it suspicious?
The man clearly isn’t as good as his TV namesake.
Pauline shakes her head. ‘I wouldn’t have been any good as a witness. I didn’t see anything.’
Audrey’s nostrils flare. She breathes out heavily, her relief obvious, those donor lungs working hard. She looks up after a moment and her eyes are clear. ‘I thought as much, my darling, but I couldn’t take the chance. I had to protect my daughter. I couldn’t protect her before, when she was young,but I had to this time. At any cost. I had toprotecther! I wasn’t going to risk anyone thinking she was the one who’d done this. She has a life. She has a partner and a job. She deserves to live.’ Audrey nods, mostly to herself. ‘So I told anyone who’d listen that I killed him. I even took the empty bottle of Digitalis that Nina used, and I’ve kept it as evidence – evidence against myself. I was more than prepared to take responsibility. Iammore than prepared. It’s why I haven’t been too bothered by Columbo following me around, asking questions. As long as he leaves Nina alone and focuses on me. I . . . I have to protect her.’
She falls silent, her heart racing. Pauline feels frozen in her seat. The air in the room has vacated and it hurts to breathe.
Audrey is not who she said she was. She has lied to Pauline from the start. She has been moving all of them like chess pieces since day one. Setting up the group with the sole purpose of finding Paula. Just so she could keep her quiet! And then pretending to be someone else for months; pretending to be a jackpot winner to win their trust. The group sit dumbly for a minute, processing; trying to make sense of this.
After a moment, Ivy reaches for Audrey’s hand. ‘I think I understand,’ she says softly. ‘You were protecting your child.’
Pauline stands up, her chest tight. She has always taken everything lying down. She has been steamrollered her whole life, staying quiet and subdued and mousey. But she won’t do it anymore.
