Pauline stares at John, feeling numb.
It’s too late now. It’s all too late. She should’ve taken her chance to kill him when she had it, because now it’s over. It’s too late to do anything about him – about his return. She’s trapped. Everyone knows he’s back. He’s told the world. He’s told the kids. She’ll have to be his wife again. She’ll have to go back to being controlled and mocked and – a term she has newly learned from Ivy –gaslit. She’ll have to go back to being Paula again.
As the reporters shout more questions, Pauline finds herself moving towards the front door. She needs to get away from all this noise, all those penetrating stares, all thatJohn. She finds the handle at last and quickly pulls the door shut behind her, leaning against it and allowing herself a little cry.
She’d come so far . . . She’d been feeling so good – sonew. Yes, she felt anxious and frightened a lot around the other women, but in a positive way. It was exciting! She was doing brand-new things and discovering for the first time whatkind of person she was, underneath all that John-ness. She was figuring out things she liked – like cars – and things she didn’t like – private jets – and it felt good. It felt right! For the last few weeks, Pauline’s body has been zinging with adrenaline and excitement. John’s death had given her the chance to finally feel alive for the first time in decades. And now he’s back from the dead, it’s like he’s killed her.
She stumbles through to the kitchen, collapsing onto a chair and sinking her head onto her arms.
She hears the front door open and close. ‘Mum?’
It’s Tilly. It is the first time she’s heard her daughter’s voice since their fight. Since before Saint-Tropez. Since before Pauline found out about John. Since before Audrey’s confession. Since before.
The sound reverberates in her ears and she sinks further into herself. But then she stands up. She can’t ignore her daughter, no matter what’s gone on. She’s missed her so much. She needs to see her.
And then she’s there, in front of her. Tilly’s kind, warm, infuriating, judgemental, overbearing face. The sight of her fills Pauline’s heart with love.
‘Tilly,’ she says simply.
‘Mum!’ She sounds so relieved, though her skin is ashen. ‘He’s back. He’s really back. Did you know? Where have you been? What’s—’ Tilly starts crying quietly and Pauline reaches for her, wrapping arms around her oldest child. Tilly continues speaking into Pauline’s shoulder. ‘He called us this morning and we rushed over here. It’s a miracle.’ She’s mumbling through her tears. ‘It was all just a mistake, Mum. He’s fine! He’s OK.’ Pauline lets her speak, afraid to breathe. ‘Everything is OK now. Everything will be all right. Dad’s home.’
‘I know, Tills. I know.’
There is a pause and Tilly pulls out of the hug, looking at her mother with fearful eyes. ‘Is it . . . Are you . . .? Oh, Mum, I’m so sorry about our fight. I’m so sorry I accused you . . .’ Her voice breaks again. ‘I’m really sorry I said that . . . thing. I didn’t mean it. I could never mean it! Not really. I think I was having some kind of breakdown or . . . I don’t know,something. Maybe it was a delayed reaction to grief. Those grief tentacles reaching out and pulling me down. Or maybe I’m just a crappy person. But there’s no excuse.’ She shakes her head. ‘I can’t believe I said it and I hate myself for it. Of course you’re not happier without Dad. Of course you’re not.’ She breathes out slowly, trying and failing to regain her composure. ‘I’ve been so worried about you, Mum. I’ve not slept a wink since I said those awful things. I’ve kept Misha up all night talking about you, wondering what I should do. I’ve felt terrible.’ She pauses, smiling a watery smile. ‘But it’s all fine now, because Dad’s back! He’s back. He’s not dead! Our lives can go back to normal.’
‘Normal,’ Pauline repeats faintly. ‘OK.’
‘It’s all going to be all right, Mum,’ Tilly says again with emotion. ‘It’ll be even better than it was before. John and Paula Sheldon, reunited after all these months. We’re getting so many messages! No one can believe it’s real! It’s like a love story!’
‘Yes. Like a love story,’ Pauline repeats robotically, hating the words. But a part of her knows this is true. It is like a love story. Because – after everything she’s been through and seen – she knows better than most that not all real-life love stories are romantic. And even fewer have a happy ending.
38
‘Paula’s home at last!’
Pauline winces, not just at the sight of her should-be-late husband, standing there in their kitchen, but at hearing that name. The name he gave her. ‘You took your time!’ He grins at her, waiting for a reaction. She freezes, unable to move.
‘Come on, Mum!’ Beside her, Tilly throws herself forwards, bundling her mum and dad into a group hug. From her position, looking out into the hallway, she can see John has left the front door swinging wide open. Outside, cameras are still flashing, journalists shouting.
The neighbours will not be pleased that the rows of media vans are back in front of Pauline’s house.
Inside the family hug, Pauline finds herself pressed into kitchen cupboards, handles poking into her spine. She struggles to get free, ending up instead in John’s armpit. The familiar odour makes her head spin – just like the last time, when she stood over him in bed with a pillow ready to smother him. She should’ve done it. She wishes she had. She’s repulsed by the smell of him and struggles to fight back nausea. ‘Seb, get over here,’ Tilly shouts over her shoulder.
Her brother appears through the front door, a little sheeny and manic-eyed. ‘Mum, you’re back,’ he says, slamming the front door, to shouts of protest from their not-so-adoring public.
He joins them, throwing his arms around the family unit. ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ he murmurs into Pauline’s ear. ‘Are you all right?’
She nods, wondering if her son had to cut short his course and what it was for. Even with everything that’s happening, Pauline feels like she’s let Seb down by not asking more about his life. The guilt pulses through her, even now. She looks away as Tilly finally releases them. ‘Let’s have a cup of tea,’ Pauline says, moving quickly through the kitchen in case her daughter makes them touch some more.
‘I think we should probably make it something a bit stronger,’ Tilly says, laughing to herself. ‘We’re celebrating, after all.’
‘Quite right,’ John says jovially as Seb nods agreeably. ‘Paula, get us a bottle of something special out of the understairs cupboard, will you? There’s some whisky I nicked from my Christmas work party last year.’
She swallows, fear filling her. His brothers drank it at the reading.
‘You gave it to Leonard,’ she whispers and he frowns.
‘What are you saying, Paula? Speak up, for God’s sake!’
