Chapter 34
Pauline hates to sound ungrateful, but private jets really aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.
She was underwhelmed by the last one and this one is even more .
. . well, it’s just quite . . . how does she put this?
Uninspired . She’s surrounded by cramped, beige interiors and rows of grey seats.
And that’s it! Of course, there are a lot fewer seats than you’d find on an EasyJet plane, and an awful lot more legroom.
But Pauline’s only five foot two; she’s never wanted for legroom in her life.
At least the last jet had Connie and sofas.
Gosh, has Pauline already become spoilt? How exciting.
Perhaps, she decides, they save the really exotic, glamorous jets for the Hollywood stars. Perhaps Sigourney Weaver is flying about on the truly lavish ones; the ones that have jacuzzis and snooker tables.
Not that she’d want to play snooker anyway. John and snooker . . . yeugh. He played it every Wednesday and Thursday evening with his friends.
Before he faked his own death, that is.
Will he resume his snooker playing now, she wonders, like none of it ever happened? Will he resume his life? Their lives? She can’t let that happen.
‘I still can’t believe John’s really alive,’ Pauline says out loud for quite possibly the hundredth time since yesterday’s Zoom meeting with him.
In a seat across the aisle, Ivy shoots her a look of genuine sympathy. Behind them, Audrey shouts, ‘Not for long.’
‘How am I going to tell Tilly and Seb?’ Pauline says, shaking her head.
‘You won’t have to, darling,’ Audrey points out. ‘If we can get to him before he tells anyone else, no one ever has to know he survived the Austrian Alps.’
Teddy nods. ‘It’s actually the perfect crime. As far as the world knows, he’s already dead. We just need to get rid of the body.’
‘What if he’s already told them?’ Pauline asks anxiously. ‘Seb’s only out in the shed in the garden. He may well have already come in and seen his dad. He would be so shocked! I want it to come from me, if he has to find out.’
‘How often does Seb come in the house?’ Teddy leans forward.
Pauline is struck by something her son said just before she left. ‘Oh wait! He’s on a course! He’s away for a week.’
‘A course?’ Audrey cocks her head. ‘How exciting! For work?’
Pauline has no idea. All she remembers is saying the word course a lot. ‘Yes, for work,’ she confirms, hoping this might even be true.
Ivy smiles softly to herself. ‘Good for Seb.’ Then she nods. ‘Plus, John’s said he’s hiding out, staying under the radar until you’re back, right?’
John has been bombarding Pauline – or Paula as he’s still calling her, of course – with messages since his return to the family home.
He has demanded she return immediately so they can ‘begin their new lives together’.
He has also promised they’ll tell the children together – and the world – about what he’s calling ‘the wonderful miracle’.
Pauline shifts around uncomfortably in her seat, trying to find an angle that doesn’t make her behind quite so sweaty. She is unsuccessful.
She checks her watch, feeling a little queasy. She took some travel sickness pills after they took off, but they don’t seem to be working. It’s odd that she was perfectly fine on a boat all week, and yet being on this journey home has made her feel so poorly.
Maybe it’s less to do with the flying, and more to do with what she’s flying home to.
From the back, Teddy crows happily, ‘Pauline, babe? We’re all sorted.’
She cranes around to look at her friend. ‘What’s sorted?’
Teddy smiles, throwing her phone into a huge, brown leather bag that no doubt cost five figures.
‘Those pesky loan sharks. I had a quick chat with your man Craig before we boarded. My finance guy has just messaged to confirm he’s paid them off.
They won’t bother you again. They send their thanks and best wishes. ’
Pauline gapes at her. All these weeks of fear, all this time wondering what she was going to do and how she was going to cope. And Teddy’s solved the whole thing in a few hours.
She smiles a watery smile. ‘Thank you,’ she whispers, and Teddy winks.
She sinks back into her uncomfortable seat, the weight of weeks of fear and worry finally lifting.
Is it always so freeing to just . . . say your problems out loud?
Granted, not many people have a pal with eight hundred million pounds in the bank, but even without Teddy’s surreal bank balance, admitting the issue – getting it off her chest – had already made Pauline feel a thousand times better.
Who knew having best friends was so important?
She checks her watch again.
Not much longer until they land, and then straight back to Surrey to see John. Not see actually – back to Surrey to off John.
Pauline giggles childishly to herself at the thought. She’s never said off before. Well actually, she has said off, of course she has. Just not in reference to murdering someone.
Something has happened to Pauline overnight.
She feels so different and she can’t quite pinpoint why.
She really should be miserable and in the absolute doldrums about all this.
Her awful husband is back from the dead and wants all their money, just as she’s starting to enjoy spending it.
Her children aren’t speaking to her and thinks she’s a terrible person.
And everyone on the internet thinks she’s a murderer.
Never mind the police on her friend’s tail.
Oh, and she might be about to throw up into a paper bag if they don’t land soon.
But she’s not miserable. She’s happy. Happier than she’s been in ages – years!
Perhaps even decades. Five days in the South of France with TLWWC has transformed her into a whole new woman.
No longer is she meek little Paula, terrified by everything and everyone around her.
Now she’s Pauline. Pauline with a brand-new Porsche, a new group of friends and a whole new set of underwear courtesy of a helpful French concierge.
Oh! And she’s got a tan ! She hasn’t had a tan since she was a teenager!
Pauline is fearless. Pauline is a winner. Pauline is a member of a murder club who kill misbehaving husbands. And Pauline’s husband is about to get what’s coming to him.
Paula the Dog barks from her seat beside Audrey.
Pauline reaches over and strokes the pup, always careful to avoid the sensitive nipples. She can have that old name. She’s welcome to it.
For the first time in three decades, Pauline feels like she’s taking control of her life. So many choices have been made for her over the years, foisted upon her. Now she’s making some for herself and it feels . . . good. Really good.
Up at the front of the plane, the disinterested steward twitches the curtain.
Their previous stewardess, Connie, had to fly to Canada for a VIP client, according to Audrey, so she wasn’t available for their plane ride home today.
It’s a shame. Pauline liked how much she smiled.
She’s going to do more smiling herself from now on.
Be more Connie, Pauline tells herself. She considers making it her new motto, but then remembers she’s already changed her name once this week. People might get confused.
The new steward peers out at the group disapprovingly, daring them to ask for something.
The young man seemed very displeased by their arrival on board earlier.
There was a great deal of sighing and tutting over the fact that they weren’t dazzling celebrities in designer gear.
Pauline’s fairly sure Sigourney Weaver wouldn’t get this kind of tutty treatment.
To be fair, Teddy is in designer gear, but you wouldn’t necessarily think it to look at her.
Her clothes mostly look like very thin pieces of pink material stretched around body parts.
Very expensive pieces of pink material. Of course, Pauline likes the clothes a lot.
But just on Teddy. They wouldn’t work on her.
Audrey takes out her earphones. ‘Have we made a decision about the . . . plan?’ She eyeballs the steward.
He’s still fifteen feet away, still on his phone, still beyond disinterested.
Despite this, Audrey leans closer to the group, whispering, ‘We need a code for talking about this. How about we say . . .’ – she pauses, then her eyes widen – ‘. . . cook instead of kill?’
Ivy smiles. ‘Good idea!’ She turns to Pauline. ‘So then, what, er, meal are we cooking for John tonight?’
‘I get what you’re doing there,’ Audrey says, ‘but that doesn’t actually make sense. You just asked what meal we’re killing for John tonight.’
Teddy shuffles closer in her seat. ‘I think it’s fine to take some liberties with the code, Audrey. The code is not set in stone. You only just made the code up, babe.’
‘Well, assuming no one knows he’s back from the dead yet,’ Pauline muses, ‘the actual, er, meal we cook doesn’t really matter so much, right? It’s all about getting rid of the . . . leftovers.’
‘Quite,’ Teddy nods, looking faintly amused.
‘So what are our options? Do you have any woods near your house, Pauline? Maybe we could get John to . . .’ She glances over at the steward.
Not a flicker of interest. ‘Maybe if John was willing to come to the woods, we could have a . . . picnic , and then bury the . . . er, leftovers.’
‘Are there bears in the woods?’ Pauline asks, suddenly feeling less brave.
‘No, but there’s a lot of pope shit!’ Audrey cackles confusingly.
Teddy shakes her head at Pauline. ‘No bears. Or pope shit. There’s nothing to worry about like that. Although bears would be handy to get rid of evid— leftover picnic food.’
Audrey looks inspired. ‘Ooh, if we’re going to the woods maybe we could pick up some mushrooms. You know’ – she narrows her eyes – ‘the Agatha Christie kind of mushrooms. For his din-dins?’
‘John doesn’t like mushrooms,’ Pauline explains. ‘He says they’re too slimy.’