Chapter 35
For this murder, The Lottery Winner Widows Club have tried to learn from their previous mistakes.
Gone are the slippery estate agent booties.
Long gone are the awkward gloves no one could open any doors with.
And it’s broad daylight as the four women approach Pauline’s house.
They’ve come straight from the airport, which – as Audrey pointed out – means they have their luggage in the car, ready for a speedy getaway should everything go disastrously wrong.
They’ve taken almost no precautions this time, but there’s also a lot less reason to be cautious.
After all, why wouldn’t Pauline and her friends be at her house?
There’s no reason their finger and shoe prints wouldn’t be all over the place.
Pauline pauses on the porch outside the house for a moment, her hands shaking as she regards the familiar front door.
The paint at the bottom is chipped and peeling, the wood starting to splinter.
Last year she asked John about buying some paint and filler to fix it herself, and he laughed at her.
The idea of her being anything but useless was hilarious to him.
‘Are you all right?’ Ivy asks softly. ‘Sure you want to do this? We could wait a bit, have a big think about it all, if you want?’
‘She can’t wait,’ Audrey says quickly. ‘It has to be done before anyone else finds out he’s back.’
‘I’m fine,’ Pauline answers. ‘I’m scared, but he deserves it, he really does. Let’s do this.’ She roots around in her handbag for a key that has languished down there for what feels like an eternity. It’s hard to believe she’s been away for less than a week.
‘Hello?’ Pauline calls out nervously as they enter. There is silence in the house and she turns to the others, unsure what to do next.
‘Do you think he’s gone out?’ Ivy asks, mirroring Pauline’s anxious tone.
‘Maybe,’ she whispers back. ‘Or maybe he just didn’t hear me. He’s a bit deaf in his right ear.’
‘That might be quite useful,’ Teddy nods. ‘He won’t hear us coming.’
‘Should we split up to look for him?’ Pauline asks and Audrey shakes her head.
‘Splitting up is never the right thing to do, my darling. You don’t watch any horror films, do you? We’ll stick together and make our way round the house. We’re not leaving you or anyone.’
Ivy takes Pauline’s hand. ‘We’ll always stick together.’ She nods at the stairs in front of them. ‘Let’s look up there first.’
They creep up the steps, Pauline silently thanking the previous owners who so thoughtfully installed the thickest carpet known to man. Sure, it might be bright orange and forty years old, but it turns out it’s also ideal for creeping up on unsuspecting husbands who were supposed to be dead.
Teddy takes the lead and they walk, single file across the landing. Pauline’s bedroom door is closed and she searches her memory, trying to recall if she’d shut it before she left. It all feels like a million years ago, so much has happened since she last slept here.
They stop in a huddle outside the door, each of them attempting sign language about their next move.
Eventually, Teddy rolls her eyes and turns decisively for the door.
Pauline gasps lightly as she moves the door knob, opening the door in slow motion.
She places her face at the crack, then backs off, closing the door silently.
‘He’s in there,’ she mouths. ‘He’s fast asleep.’ She pauses. ‘What do we do?’
‘We can’t really push him down the stairs like this,’ Ivy says in a low whisper as Audrey nods.
‘We can smother him though,’ Pauline says with determination. She disappears into a room down the hall, returning a minute later with a large blue throw pillow, featuring a smiling giraffe. They got it at a Blue Diamond.
‘Is this a good idea?’ Teddy says nervously, and if Pauline didn’t know better, she’d say there was trepidation in her voice.
‘No,’ she shakes her head. ‘But I’m doing it anyway.’ She lets herself quietly into the familiar bedroom. It smells like John in there and for a second her head spins. It’s been so long since she smelled that smell. It almost knocks her off her feet.
John is lying under the covers of her bed, breathing heavily with his mouth open. He always slept like the dead. Ironically.
Looking at him lying there, in the spot that has become her personal space – hers and hers alone – Pauline feels only revulsion.
How did she ever believe he loved her? Or that she loved him?
The way he loved her wasn’t love. She realises now that this man is not capable of real love.
He is a cruel, horrible person who only cares about himself.
She thinks of all those times he said she was ugly, that no one would ever love her but him.
She thinks of the time she saved up her bus money by walking to work for months, so she could buy new pyjamas.
And how he’d marched her back to the shop to return them because they were ‘too fancy for the likes of her’.
She thinks of how he would buy food she didn’t like, then claim he had no idea salmon made her ill.
She thinks of how he always gave her a Malibu and Coke at family gatherings, knowing full well she thought it tasted like fabric softener.
She stands over him now, holding the pillow.
She wants to do it; she has to do it; she needs to do it.
She raises it up over his head, staring down at his cruel face.
Even sleeping, he is smirking. She needs to do this.
This will solve everything. She can’t let him back into her life.
He will ruin it all. He is poison; he is a disease; he is a vampire.
She thinks of their life together and all the casual, daily cruelty. He deserves this. She raises the pillow higher.
Then she thinks of Tilly and Seb. She thinks of those happy memories Tilly shared in family grief counselling with Gerald.
She wants to do it.
But she can’t do it.
She brings the pillow back down. It sags at her side.
She looks up after a moment. Audrey, Teddy and Ivy have all entered the room and are watching her nervously in the dim light.
‘I can’t,’ she whispers. ‘I hate him, but I can’t. I’m just not capable. I keep picturing Tilly and Seb’s faces.’
Ivy nods solemnly. ‘I don’t think we’re cut out for murder, you guys.’
Beneath them on the bed, John stirs, and they glance at each other with panic.
‘Run!’ Audrey squeals, and they do as instructed, thundering down the stairs and towards the front door, the panic turning to squeals of hilarity.
They don’t stop running when they get outside, heading at full pelt down the road towards Pauline’s car, giggling as they go. The fear has turned to hysterical relief and they all pile into Pauline’s car, breathing heavily.
‘Why do so many of our plans end up with us running for our lives?’ Pauline asks, panting hard.
‘I did once suggest we could cycle away from our crime scenes . . .’ Audrey points out and they all nod their acknowledgement.
There they all sit for a minute, the adrenaline slowly draining away. From this distance, they watch the peeling front door, waiting for John to appear. Surely he must’ve been woken up by their maniacal exit?
Nothing happens. The door stays shut. Eventually Teddy pipes up from the back seat. ‘Pauline, you can stay at mine until we figure out what to do.’
‘Are you sure?’ Pauline is ridiculously grateful, though that enormous, pink penthouse apartment intimidates her a little.
‘Of course I’m sure,’ Teddy replies.
‘I’d offer,’ Audrey titters from the passenger seat beside her, ‘but the Scottish castle is a bit of a trek.’
Pauline grimaces. ‘I may have to take you up on that if all of this goes to hell. I might need to get as far away from all this as possible.’
They continue to watch the front of the house for a few more minutes. There is still no sign of John.
From the back seat, Ivy suddenly sighs. ‘I know some of us are literally already murderers, but I don’t think we’ve got it in us to be serial killers.’
‘I don’t either,’ says Pauline as Teddy shakes her head sadly.
‘I really thought this was the best way to help people,’ she murmurs, staring out of the window. ‘I thought I was strong enough to do it.’
‘I don’t think it makes us weak that we can’t,’ Audrey replies after a moment. ‘I don’t think we’re bad people because we can’t bring ourselves to kill anyone.’
‘It is disappointing though,’ Teddy says. ‘I really did want to want to do it.’
‘And offing John would’ve been such a handy solution to this whole mess,’ says Pauline. They fall silent and eventually she reaches for the ignition. ‘We can’t sit here for ever. We better go.’
They fiddle about with seatbelts, and Audrey reaches down into the footwell to place her handbag. Immediately she knocks it over, spilling the contents everywhere and laughing at her own clumsiness. Pauline reaches across to help her retrieve things, picking up Audrey’s passport first.
The passport.
She remembers that moment at the airport on their way to Saint-Tropez – that glimpse she got of her friend’s photo page. There was something . . .
The name. Was that right? She can’t be sure. But five days later, Pauline’s head feels clearer, and something occurs to her. Something clicks. Something that has been niggling and wriggling at the back of her brain all week.
She opens up the passport and stares at it. She didn’t imagine it. She wasn’t wrong. There it is. The name.
She stares at it for a second or two longer, trying to convince herself she’s wrong. Perhaps – after everything they’ve been through – Pauline’s mind has finally snapped. Maybe she’s seeing things. Because if this means what she thinks it means . . .
No, it can’t be right. Except there it is, laminated right there on the most legal of legal documents.
At last, Pauline looks up from the page, everything she thought she knew shifting. Audrey is staring at her, and Pauline stares right back.
Teddy strains against her seatbelt in the back. ‘What’s the hold up, babes?’
Pauline doesn’t reply. Instead she holds Audrey’s eye contact. The moment stretches on, until at last Pauline clears her throat and speaks.
‘I know who you really are.’