The Fury(36)

Finally, she spoke. “That night at your apartment…”

“Yes.”

“We said a lot.”

“I know we did.” I shrugged. “Now you’re avoiding me. What am I supposed to make of that?”

“I need to know something.” Lana studied me for a second. “Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Trying to help you?” I met her gaze directly. “I’m your friend, Lana. I love you.”

Lana looked at me for a moment, like she didn’t believe me.

I felt a flicker of irritation. Isn’t that crazy? In all these years, never one cross word or a disagreement—a mutually adoring friendship, free of all conflict—until I got involved in her marriage problems.

No good deed goes unpunished, I thought. Who said that? They were right.

I was in a tricky position, I knew. I mustn’t press her too hard. I risked losing her. But I couldn’t stop myself.

“I’m sorry. I cannot stand by and watch you be abused. It’s not okay, letting them treat you like this.”

No reply.

“Lana.” I frowned. “Answer me, for Christ’s sake.”

But Lana didn’t answer me. She just stood up—and dived off the raft. She disappeared in the water.



* * *



After the picnic, we walked back to the house.

But Lana didn’t go inside.

She lingered on the veranda, acting as if the climb up the steps had tired her, and she was catching her breath. I knew better. She was watching Kate, on the lower level.

Kate was wandering away from the summerhouse, in the direction of the olive grove—toward the ruin.

I knew what was in Lana’s mind. I pretended to yawn. “I’m going to have a shower. See you in a bit.”

Lana didn’t reply. I wandered inside into the living room—then stopped just inside the door. I hovered there a moment. Then I went back outside. And Lana had gone. Just as I expected, she was descending the steps to the lower level.

I followed—keeping my distance, so she wouldn’t see. I needn’t have worried; Lana didn’t look back once. Nor did Kate, as she made her way through the trees, blissfully unaware she was being followed by not one, but two people.

At the clearing, Lana hid behind a tree. I stood a little farther back, at a safe distance. We both watched the scene unfold at the ruin.

Jason and Kate spoke for a while. Then Jason put down his gun and approached Kate. They started kissing.

How strange it must have been for Lana to watch them kissing. I imagined all her defenses collapsing at that moment—her denial, delusion, her projection of her anger onto me—crumbling into dust. How can you deny what’s right in front of you?

Lana’s legs suddenly gave way. She sank to the ground. She fell onto her hands and knees, in the dirt. It looked like she was kneeling in prayer, but she was crying.

It was a pitiful sight. My heart went out to her.

But it would be dishonest not to admit that part of me was relieved. For if Lana needed more proof than an earring, then fate had just supplied it.

Jason sensed Lana’s eyes on him. He looked up. But he was blinded by the sunlight and didn’t see her there.

Lana turned and lurched away from the ruin. She went back through the olive grove, toward the house. She was walking fast. I followed.

I had an uneasy feeling about what she might do next.





14





Lana circled around behind the house. She went in the back door.

She hurried along the passage—and entered Jason’s gun room. He had taken a couple of guns out with him—but a couple were still there, on the rack.

Lana reached out and took hold of a handgun.

She left the room and marched along the corridor, into the living room. She went out through the French windows, onto the veranda. She stood by the low wall, overlooking the lower level.

Below her, Jason was walking back toward the house, clutching a couple of dead wood pigeons. Lana slowly raised the gun—and aimed it straight at him.

Did she intend to kill Jason? Or just scare him?

I don’t know how conscious Lana was of what she was doing. She was so beaten up mentally, so destabilized. Perhaps an old, primitive instinct for survival had taken hold—a need to feel a weapon in her hands? If there had been an axe nearby, like Clytemnestra she might have seized that. As it was, she held a gun.

Go on, I thought, do it. Squeeze the trigger. Fire— But just then, Leo appeared on the lower level, walking to the pool. Lana immediately lowered the gun, hiding it behind her back.

Leo looked up and saw his mother. He waved. Lana forced a smile and waved back.

Woken from her trance, Lana turned and hurried back into the house. She went along the passage. But she didn’t return the gun. She kept walking, past the gun room, and took the handgun upstairs.



* * *



In her bedroom, Lana sat at her dressing table. She stared at herself in the mirror—with the gun in her hand. She felt rather frightened by what she saw.

Then, hearing the door open, she thrust the gun into the drawer. She glanced in the mirror and saw Agathi walk in, smiling.

“Hi. Is there anything you need?”

“No.” Lana shook her head.

“Any thoughts about dinner?”