Here goes.
* * *
To begin with, I must turn back time.
Do you remember when you first encountered Lana, on the street in London?
Let us return there, for a moment. Let us go back to that miserable day in Soho—and the rainfall that prompted Lana to make the spontaneous decision to flee the English weather, for a few days in sunny Greece.
I suppose my first, and most grievous, omission, when I began telling this story, was in allowing you to assume that once she made this decision, Lana immediately phoned Kate at the Old Vic—to invite her to the island.
But, in fact, twenty-four hours elapsed before Lana made that call.
Twenty-four hours, during which, as you shall see, a great deal happened.
3
Lana was walking on Greek Street, appropriately enough, when she had the idea about going to the island. But the moment she pulled out her phone to call Kate, to invite her to the island, the rain started coming down heavily. A sudden deluge.
Lana quickly returned the phone to her pocket and hurried home.
No one was in the house when she let herself in. She dried herself off as best she could. She’d have a bath, she decided, once she’d had a cup of tea.
Lana had only picked up the habit of tea drinking since moving to London. Endless comforting cups of hot tea in this damp, depressing climate made perfect sense. She brewed a pot of Earl Grey and perched on the window seat; watching the rain fall outside.
Lana’s mind went back on the same track it had been on earlier. Back to what was bothering her. She was determined to work it out. If she kept puzzling over it, she felt sure the answer would unearth itself.
Once again, Leo popped into her mind. Why? Did this anxious feeling have something to do with him? With that awkward conversation they’d had, a few days earlier, here, in this kitchen?
* * *
“Mum, I’ve got something to tell you,” Leo said.
Lana braced herself. “Go on.”
She didn’t know what she was expecting—some typical teenage confession involving sexuality, addiction, or religion? None of these possibilities bothered her. They’d work it out together, the way they always had. Lana had never given her son anything other than 100 percent support in anything he did.
“I want to be an actor.”
Lana was taken aback. This was a shock. Not just the words that had come out of Leo’s mouth—which she hadn’t anticipated—but also her reaction, which was instantly, violently hostile. She suddenly felt angry.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Leo stared at her blankly. He didn’t know how to respond. He looked like he might burst into tears. The conversation went downhill from there. Lana’s response had surprised and hurt him. Leo wasted no breath in telling her so: she was being “toxic”—and he didn’t understand why.
Lana tried to explain that it was her duty as a parent to try to dissuade him. Acting was a waste of all the advantages and opportunities he had been given. An extraordinary education, a natural scholarly aptitude and intelligence; as well as his mother’s contacts—many of the world’s most influential people’s numbers were on her phone, just a call away.
Wouldn’t Leo be much better off going to university—here in Britain, or in America—and qualifying as something more substantial? Last year he had expressed an interest in human rights law—surely something like that would suit him better? Or medicine? Or psychology, or philosophy? Anything … but an actor.
Lana was clutching at straws here, and she knew it.
And so did Leo. He gave her a cold look of contempt. “What are you talking about? You’re such a hypocrite. You’re an actor. And Dad was in the business, too.”
“Leo, your father was a producer. A businessman. If you said you wanted to move to LA and work in production, that would be entirely different—”
“Oh, really? You’d be over the moon?”
“I wouldn’t be over the moon, but I’d be happier.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this—” Leo rolled his eyes. He was breathing heavily. He was getting angry now, Lana knew. She didn’t want this to get out of hand. She lowered her voice and tried to placate him.
“Darling, listen. What happened to me just doesn’t happen. I was incredibly lucky. Do you know how many unemployed actors there are in LA? Your odds are one in a million. One in ten million.”
“Oh, I get it. I’m not talented enough? That’s what you think?”
Lana nearly lost her patience. “Leo, I have absolutely no idea if you are talented or not. Until this very moment, you have expressed no interest in acting. You’ve never even been in a play—”