Chapter 19
Paula has just decided that people use the word breathtaking way too frivolously. The scenery is breathtaking; that painting is breathtaking; the bungalow on Escape to the Country is breathtaking – just look at the kitchen island!
Because they’ve just arrived at Teddy’s apartment, and it is actually breathtaking.
It has very literally taken Paula’s breath away.
She continues to struggle for breath as she passes through the grand entrance hall and into a large, open-plan kitchen.
It is pink. Pink marble tops, pink cupboards, pink table tops.
Even pink – no, wait, hold on. Paula looks closer but can find no evidence of an oven or hob. Does Teddy not cook?
Reading her mind, Teddy presses a button and cupboard fronts open smoothly by themselves to reveal a variety of fixtures and fittings. There they are! Hidden by magical cupboard doors! How clever. It all looks brand new and shiny. So maybe Teddy doesn’t in fact cook.
When Audrey casually referenced Teddy’s flat in west London, this was not what Paula pictured. She’s never seen, or even imagined, a flat this size before. It goes on for ever, down corridors and through giant well-lit spaces.
‘Here’s my room,’ Teddy calls out from down another long passageway.
Paula passes through a large dressing room, noting an ensuite bathroom off to the side.
She peeks a head in. The ensuite is practically the size of Paula’s whole house.
She gasps her astonishment as they enter the bedroom itself.
Windows line the entire wall, featuring dramatic views of London’s greenest spaces.
At one end of the room sits the biggest bed Paula’s ever seen, and a TV spans almost the whole facing wall.
‘This bedroom must be forty square feet!’ Paula gasps. ‘How do you even watch that TV? I’d have to wear my glasses in bed and have the subtitles as big as my head.’
Teddy shrugs. ‘To be honest, I mostly just bring my laptop into bed with me and watch my reality shows there. I don’t think that TV has ever been turned on. I wouldn’t even know where the remote control is.’ Paula shakes her head in bewilderment. All this luxury. It’s sort of . . . silly?
They wander through another three bedrooms, each immaculately decorated and practically untouched. Everything is neatly tucked away, everything is high-end, and everything is still mostly all pink.
‘How big is this flat?’ Paula can’t keep the awe out of her voice.
‘Just under nine and a half thousand square feet,’ Teddy confirms, respect in her voice.
‘It’s more than ten times the size of the place I had in New York, before I won the money.
’ She smiles broadly and winks. ‘But obviously I’ve held on to that house.
Can’t have anyone digging up the back garden now, can I? ’
Ivy and Audrey giggle at this, and Paula swallows hard, wondering how seriously to take all their jokes. At least it sounds like she’s been sensible about the body. It’s reassuring, somehow. They might talk about death with a light tone, but the group apparently take covering it up seriously.
But were they really being serious back then, on that bench on Old Bond Street? They can’t honestly be considering . . . Paula shakes her head as the group moves on through to the back part of the apartment. Just as they seem to be reaching the end of the tour, another room materialises.
‘They call this a cinema room .’ Teddy rolls her eyes.
‘But it’s basically just another big living room.
’ She pauses. ‘Although most living rooms don’t have a bar.
’ She gestures across the wide expanse to an area that is essentially a Wetherspoons in its own right.
A large mirror across the back wall showcases a fully stocked selection of every type of spirit on the market, along with a variety of beers on taps.
There are large glass-doored fridges either side, with an array of pink and white wines, along with champagnes and Proseccos from every region.
Paula is so busy examining the choices and wondering if it’s too early to ask for a drink, that she almost misses the best part of the room.
‘Oh my,’ she gasps, wheeling round as Teddy pulls back enormous bifold doors. They open out onto a huge, secret terrace out the back. She, Ivy and Audrey all step out into the sunshine, looking around at the large hedges and the array of potted flowers and plants surrounding them.
‘There’s a pool ?’ Paula is incredulous, taking in the small outdoor infinity pool, shimmering away, hidden among the plants.
‘Sure,’ Teddy says, following them out. ‘But this is still the UK. I can get in there maybe twice a year on selective July dates. Even when I whack the heating on high, all night.’
Paula nods dumbly as they all take a seat around a table under a large cream umbrella. She sinks into the comfy seating, aware that she’s never before experienced such luxury outdoor furniture. Usually it’s all shiny wicker, cobwebs and pointy bits.
They bask in the cold sunshine for a moment, and Paula closes her eyes.
‘So,’ Audrey says cheerfully after a moment. ‘Murdering men.’ She turns to Ivy. ‘Where is this list of yours? I don’t suppose you’ve got it to hand?’
Ivy smiles sheepishly. ‘You’ll think I’m terribly Gen Z, but yes. I keep my journal on my phone.’ She pulls it out, tapping a few things and handing it across to Audrey, who starts reading closely.
‘Bastards,’ she mutters after a few minutes, handing it along to Paula, who starts to read, then stops.
It’s too awful. Ivy’s listed names in bold, and beside them are words like ‘Drugged and raped her in her sleep’, ‘Put her in the hospital because she didn’t reply to a text for half an hour’, ‘Told her he would kill her if she ever tried to leave him.’ It is too much for Paula.
She’s lived a sheltered life, she knows this, and this is beyond anything she could imagine, or ever wanted to.
Her silly little worries suddenly seem so ridiculously insignificant.
She hands the phone to Teddy quickly, feeling bile sloshing around in her stomach.
‘So who’s first?’ Ivy interrupts her reverie.
Teddy looks up from the phone. ‘Can we get them all together in a room and shower them with Novichok?’
‘The tennis player?’ Paula blinks.
Teddy frowns. ‘You might be thinking of Novak Djokovic? Novichok is a lethal nerve agent.’
‘That would be ideal,’ Audrey agrees. ‘Though getting hold of that much Novichok might be a little tricky. Unless anyone here has an in with the Russians?’ She pauses, then nods towards Ivy’s phone – towards the list. ‘What about that dreadful piece of shit, Dominic Shipman?’ Paula feels waves of panic overtaking her as Ivy nods enthusiastically.
Her voice is clear and confident as she answers, ‘He’s a monster. His wife, Gemma, has tried to escape him so many times and he always finds her. They have two children and he’s started on the little boy now. She tried to get a restraining order, but he’s a police officer and they cover for him.’
Teddy shakes her head, her lip curling in disgust. ‘Ugh, of course they do. The blue wall of silence. They won’t stop one of their own. We have to take matters into our own hands if we want this man stopped.’
The four of them all stare silently at one another. Paula’s heart is racing. Are they really having this conversation? She should leave. She should leave right now.
She doesn’t.
Dominic Shipman. Paula steels herself and takes back Ivy’s phone. She reads the two lines of notes Ivy’s made.
Partner of Gemma, two children. Violent, horrible, abusive, a bully, a drunk – and works in police. Broke her arm twice, recently slapped little boy. Escalating.
Paula thinks about that final word. Escalating. He’s escalating. What might he do next? To their children? His poor wife, Gemma. How could anyone do that? To someone they love? She can’t fathom it.
This is a bad man.
‘He deserves to die,’ Ivy says darkly, her eyes flashing. Some of her youth has fallen away and she suddenly seems much more like a grown-up.
‘Right. Well, that’s that then,’ Audrey says. She slowly starts unravelling the pashmina wrapped tightly around her neck. It’s the first time Paula has seen her without it and it adds to the surrealness of the moment. In a serious voice, the older woman adds, ‘He’ll be our first.’
Paula’s chest tightens at the words. First .
Hearing about this horrible, evil man, all she can think is how much he obviously deserves to die. How much Gemma and her two young children need to escape him. And yet the idea of actually doing it . . .? She can’t! Can she? Of course she can’t!
‘Ivy, babe, do you know anything else about him – where he lives, whereabouts he works?’ Teddy has her thoughtful face on. She’s slipping into high gear, into lawyer mode, making a plan.
Ivy looks thoughtful. ‘I can find out. Gemma mentioned he’s renting somewhere from a friend.’
‘OK,’ Teddy nods. ‘That’s good.’ She looks down, her expression serious.
‘Right, firstly, I think we need to do some surveillance. Although, Ivy, it might be a good idea to put some distance between yourself and Gemma for now. We’re unlikely to be suspects if none of us have any connection to the man, but it would still be better to give her some space. ’
Ivy nods and Teddy looks around the group.
‘We need to make a plan. Brainstorm some ideas. Decide where and when.’ She keeps nodding and Paula finds herself nodding along, then stops.
What’s happening right now? Teddy’s still talking but her voice seems faraway.
‘What do we know about planning a murder? What do we need to watch out for? How do most people get caught?’
‘DNA!’ Ivy interjects, wild-eyed. ‘We need to be careful about DNA.’