In the end, it seems that Kate, too, was a romantic. And that is precisely what she and Lana, so different in every other regard, had in common.
They both believed in love.
Which, as you shall see, proved their downfall.
12
Considering how indiscreet Kate and Jason were being, I knew I couldn’t be the only one who knew about their affair. The theater world in London is not large. Gossip about the two had to be rife.
Surely it would only be a matter of time before it filtered back to Lana?
Not necessarily—for all her fame, and her immersive walks around London, Lana lived a quiet life. Her social circle was small. I suspected only one person in that circle knew the truth, or had at least guessed it: Agathi. And she would never breathe a word.
No, it fell to me to break the bad news to Lana. Not an enviable task. But how to do it? One thing was clear: Lana must not hear the news from me directly. She might question my motives. She might decide to be suspicious—and refuse to believe me. That would be catastrophic.
No, I must be entirely independent of this unsavory business. Only then could I appear as her savior—her deus ex machina in shining armor—to rescue her, and carry her off in my arms.
Somehow, I had to engineer Lana’s discovery of the affair invisibly, undetectably; making her believe she had discovered it all by herself. Easier said than done, I know. But I’ve always enjoyed a challenge.
I began with the simplest, and most direct, approach. I tried to contrive a coincidental, “accidental” meeting—where Lana and I would bump into the guilty pair unexpectedly, in flagrante delicto, as it were.
There followed a period of high comedy—or low farce, depending on your taste—as I attempted to maneuver Lana into Soho on various pretexts. But this was a hopeless effort and, in the best tradition of farces, went nowhere fast.
The obvious reason was that it was impossible to maneuver Lana Farrar anywhere inconspicuously. The one time I managed to coax her into the Coach & Horses, just as Kate’s play was finishing, Lana’s arrival caused a mini-riot of jovial drunks, surrounding her, begging her to autograph their beer mats. If Kate and Jason had even neared the pub, they would have seen this whole circus long before we ever saw them.
I was forced to grow bolder in my methods. I began dropping comments into our conversations: carefully rehearsed phrases that I hoped would register and linger with Lana—Isn’t it funny how Jason and Kate have exactly the same sense of humor, they’re always laughing together.
Or else—I wonder why Kate isn’t dating anyone, it has been a while, hasn’t it?
And, one afternoon, I told Lana off for not inviting me for lunch at Claridge’s—then, when it was obvious that Lana had no idea what I meant, I looked flustered, brushing it off, saying Gordon saw Kate and Jason eating there—and I assumed Lana was with them—but Gordon must have been wrong.
Lana just gazed at me with those clear blue eyes, unfazed, free of all suspicion, and smiled. “It couldn’t possibly be Jason. He hates Claridge’s.”
In a play, all my little hints would have stayed with Lana, creating a general subliminal patina of suspicion, impossible for her to ignore. But what works onstage doesn’t, apparently, work in real life.
Even so, I persevered. I am nothing if not persistent—if occasionally absurd. For instance, I bought a bottle of Kate’s perfume—a distinctive floral scent, with hints of jasmine and rose. If that didn’t make Lana think of Kate, nothing would. I kept the bottle in my pocket, and whenever I was in the house, I would pretend I was going to the bathroom—and sprint along the corridor to their laundry room, to liberally spray Jason’s shirts with the perfume.
How much direct contact Lana ever had with Jason’s laundry was open to question. But even if Agathi smelled it and made the connection, I thought, that might help.
I stole a few long hairs from Kate’s coat, when we were both at Lana’s for dinner; then attached them carefully to Jason’s jacket. I toyed with the idea of leaving condoms in Jason’s wash bag, but decided against it, as it felt too obvious.
It was hard to get the balance right—too subtle a hint and it went undetected; too much and I’d give the game away.
The earring proved just right.
And so simple to engineer. I had no idea it would work so well or provoke the reaction it did. All I did was suggest Lana and I pay a surprise visit to Kate’s house; and I stole an earring from Kate’s bedroom—which I then pinned to Jason’s suit lapel, back at Lana’s house. Lana did the rest herself, with a little help from Agathi—and Sid, the dry cleaner.