Chapter 30
‘We should sail to Italy,’ says Audrey from her deckchair. ‘We can go around the Amalfi Coast, head for Lake Como, then just keep going.’
Paula’s not sure how serious Audrey’s being. She’s also not sure of her geography. But then the older woman throws her head back and starts cackling. Teddy and Ivy join in, and so does Paula, though the idea of never going home somehow seems very appealing right now.
It’s the first time she’s laughed in days, she realises. She feels better for it. It is a nice, bubbly feeling in her chest. It pokes a hole in the horrible, oppressive sadness.
It has been a quiet few days since Paula’s confession.
Cosseted away in the South of France, her friends have kept her close and kept her peaceful.
Instead of the loud, fancy dinners and wild celebrity bars Audrey had promised, the group has mostly spent long, sedate days on Ivy’s boat.
They’ve given her a lot of space, a lot of affection, and a lot of support.
They’ve let her talk when she wanted to talk and been silent when she needed that instead. They haven’t pushed.
They know her, Paula realises. They understand how this works.
They’ve all been there. Paula feels a long way away from the world, away from her children, away from the goons who’ve been keeping her up at night, away from everything.
She knows Craig is coming back and everything is going to come crashing down, but right now, she feels only cocooned and protected; she feels loved.
‘We can’t just sail away,’ Ivy smiles over at Audrey. ‘We can’t leave without Paula the Dog and she gets so seasick. We can’t abandon her at the hotel doggy daycare for ever.’
‘That’s true enough.’ Audrey smiles.
All around them is glorious, endless water. Paula shields her eyes, trying to see an edge to the blueness, but it’s too bright. The sun bounces off the waves in all directions. She can still see the sun when she shuts her eyes.
Ivy’s boat is lovely.
Yacht! She has to stop calling it a boat. Teddy has corrected her several times. Yacht, yacht, yacht.
Paula doesn’t know much about boats, but this one seems to be particularly nice.
It’s large but not Simon Cowell with Sinitta in tow large.
There are two decks; one with a spacious suite downstairs for sleeping, and another that features a large living area above.
But it is the sun deck out the back where the group has spent the majority of the last few days.
There has been an awful lot of lying around talking, while drinking endless glasses of champagne topped up by the few discreet crew members that otherwise keep their distance.
Paula adjusts her swimsuit and the towel underneath her.
It’s thick and soft – another no-doubt-pricey item provided by her obliging hotel concierge.
As far as Paula’s concerned, this is the epitome of luxury.
The apex of fancy trips. She keeps expecting a member of the royal family to appear out of nowhere.
It has been the kind of dream holiday Paula didn’t know was possible.
Everywhere Paula looks there is money being brandished.
People are walking around, displaying their wealth with expensive watches, shiny handbags, and perfect, perfect hair.
It’s like everyone in Saint-Tropez is coming directly from a hairdresser.
Even Teddy’s lovely hair somehow pales in comparison.
At least, with everything going on, Paula hasn’t had much of a chance to worry about her thin hair. Plus, hats seem to be a big thing over here.
‘Did you know,’ Audrey begins conversationally from underneath her own huge sunhat, ‘that there is a villa you can rent by the night up in the Les Parcs complex of Saint-Tropez. It’s on the water, only really accessible by helicopter or by ship via their private port.
It’s about twelve-thousand square feet, with nine bedrooms and nine bathrooms. It has mountain and sea views, plus its own waterfall.
And it only costs sixty-two thousand euros per night to rent. ’
Paula gasps, covering her mouth.
‘Isn’t it funny that this used to be a cute little nothingy fishing village?’ Teddy says, adjusting her sunglasses.
‘And it’s visitors like us that have come along and ruined it,’ Ivy points out, to which they all nod solemnly.
Paula sits up, feeling the warmth of the sun move across her body as she shifts position.
‘But oh!’ Ivy sits up on her towel. ‘I know what we can do to even out our universal karma.’ She reaches for the suncream, layering it on her legs. ‘Kill a vicious deviant called Owen.’
‘Let’s knock the sexual predator’s block off!’ Audrey suggests playfully.
‘Sounds good to me,’ says Teddy.
They fall silent again as Paula holds her breath, hoping this is just talk. And hoping that talk is now over.
Ivy sits forward. ‘I went through his Facebook page last night, looking for ideas. He’s a smoker. Could we dip his cigarettes in arsenic or something?’
‘My new lover, Antoine, is a smoker,’ Audrey says conversationally. ‘It’s disgusting.’
‘Didn’t you used to smoke?’ Paula asks curiously.
‘Of course I did! Forty a day for fifty years!’ Audrey says proudly. ‘But then I got emphysema and had a double lung transplant. Had to pay for each of them privately, of course. I still need regular oxygen therapy though. Smoking is disgusting .’
‘So, you find your beau, Antoine, disgusting.’ Teddy shakes her head. ‘And yet, since we got here, you’ve gone over to his place every night after we’ve said goodnight. I’m not sure I get it.’
‘Does that mean you’re not seeing him again after today?’ Ivy asks nicely.
Audrey blinks at her. ‘My darling, of course I am.’ She smiles at Ivy and Teddy.
‘Did I not mention twenty-five years and five months? Thanks to that man, that figure has at last been reset, and I intend to take full advantage of him for as long as possible before we fly home. I can put up with some yellow fingers.’ She wrinkles her nose at her own words.
‘Yuck.’ Teddy makes a face. ‘I’ve sworn off romance for ever.’
Ivy smiles at this but changes the subject. ‘He’s not the next Mr Swift then?’ she asks as Audrey regards her with confusion and then revulsion.
‘Darling, no!’ she cries, and Paula finds herself relieved.
It’s not that she doesn’t like Antoine – or his yellow fingernails – but a part of her was afraid of what might happen if Audrey were to fall in love now.
Especially with someone who lives in a different country.
If Audrey wanted to stay here, what might happen to their group?
It all feels a little fragile. This holiday – and the last few months – have felt like living in some kind of magical bubble, and Paula’s so afraid of the moment when it might burst. She’s never known friendship like this before, and she’s only now realising how much she missed out on.
She loves them. She needs them. Especially with the rest of her world disintegrating like it is.
Over the last few days, she’s told them so much about her life with John – and about her life without John.
They talked about the fifty-thousand-pound debt, about Craig stalking her on her doorstep, about discovering the proof of John’s gambling, about the phone calls and the threats.
Teddy extracted every last detail regarding the loan sharks.
Paula even found herself describing the second henchman’s too-small University of Huddersfield hoodie and his interest in the history of The X Factor – and Teddy promised she would take care of it the moment they left Saint-Tropez.
She got very fierce about it and said neither Craig nor any of his sidekicks would be hurting anyone Paula loves.
It has reassured her no end, and honestly, Paula feels a little silly for not bringing it up sooner.
Of course Teddy can make the problem go away.
The woman is a force of nature who could solve anything and everything.
She could probably sort out world peace if she didn’t keep getting distracted by tiny skirts and oversized sunglasses.
‘Do you have a way of obtaining arsenic?’ Teddy asks Ivy suddenly, and everyone regards her with confusion. She sighs. ‘You know, to poison Owen’s cigarette? Your suggestion?’ The young woman shakes her head.
‘Well, what about some other kind of poison?’ Audrey chimes in from her sun lounger.
Despite the heat, she’s still wearing a pashmina, but this one is, at least, a little lighter.
‘I once considered putting some mushrooms in Harold’s dinner, but I haven’t got the first idea how to tell the difference between chestnuts and a death cap.
’ She pauses. ‘And to be honest, it all felt a bit too Agatha Christie for my liking.’
Teddy tuts. ‘On second thoughts, poison just feels a little bit sexist, don’t you think? Everyone assumes it’s all we women are capable of, don’t they? That’s why I quite liked the baseball bat idea. It’s so brutal, it’s so . . . men .’
Ivy looks thoughtful. ‘But maybe it’s OK that the four of us aren’t capable of the same things as men.
I think the problem is more on their side.
I think we should probably be working towards men not being capable of hitting someone with a baseball bat either, rather than trying to meet them at their level? ’
‘Quite right,’ Audrey nods determinedly. ‘Male violence is not something we should be aspiring to. We should stick to female violence as much as possible. And there’s nothing wrong with a bit of poison, if that’s what we’re left with. We just need to find some.’
Teddy picks up her bag. She pulls a laptop out and starts tapping away.
‘I’ll do some research. It’s usually not a great idea to google how to kill someone,’ she comments casually. ‘But I think we’ll be OK. If Columbo comes a-calling for me, I’ll just say I’m writing a book.’
Paula dislikes the reminder of Columbo – yet another thing hanging over their heads – but tries to put it away and focus on the towel underneath her.
If the bubble is going to burst – if the police are coming for Audrey, if her daughter is going to cut her off for good – then she might as well enjoy a little sunbathing while she can.
Beside her, Teddy taps away on the keyboard at speed. ‘Does anyone want to check their emails while I’m online?’ she offers after a minute.
Paula takes the proffered computer, a tiny bit of hope lighting up in her chest. OK, so she hasn’t had a text or WhatsApp from Tilly since their fight, but maybe she has an email.
It’s possible, isn’t it? She can’t remember her daughter ever sending her an email, but there’s a chance.
Maybe she wanted to send something too long for a text.
Is there still a character limit on messages?
She logs into her email account wondering what she would do if Tilly has sent her an email. Is she ready to forgive her? Of course she is. They just need to talk things through and find some peace.
She has only one email and Paula opens it quickly, before she has time to register who it’s from. And when she does, she feels everything around her go dark.
* * *
From: [email protected]
Subject:
Hey honey, I’m home.