This prompted Lana to move—to put one foot in front of the other and keep going. She didn’t know where to go, so she just kept walking.
Eventually, she found herself in Euston. She wandered into the train station and, feeling tired, she sank down onto a bench. She was exhausted.
This was the second brutal psychological assault she had endured in as many days. The first was the discovery of the affair between Jason and Kate—which had prompted an outpouring of emotion, tears, and hysteria. But Lana had used up all her tears—she had none left for this second betrayal. She felt unable to cry, or feel. She only felt weary, and confused. She was finding it hard even to think.
Lana sat there, on the bench, for about an hour. Her head remained bowed as the station came to life around her. No one noticed her—she was invisible, another lost soul, ignored by the steady stream of commuters.
Eventually, someone saw her. An old man who, like Lana, had nowhere to go. He shuffled close to her. He stank of booze.
“Cheer up, sweetheart. Things can’t be that bad.” Then, peering more closely: “Say, you look familiar.… Don’t I know you?”
Lana didn’t look up, didn’t reply, just kept shaking her head. Eventually, the old man gave up. He ambled off.
Lana forced herself up. She walked out of the station, just as the pub across the road was opening its doors. She hesitated and considered going inside. But she decided against it. She didn’t need to get drunk. She needed her mind to be absolutely clear.
As she walked past the pub, she found herself thinking about Barbara West.
Suddenly Lana was flooded with the memories that she had worked so hard to forget. She recalled all the things Barbara had said to her about Elliot. That he was dangerous, that he was crazy. Lana had refused to believe her. She had insisted that Elliot was a good man, loving and kind.
But she had been wrong. Barbara was telling the truth.
Now, as Lana walked, she felt herself coming into focus. She found herself thinking more easily, with more fluidity. She knew her purpose now. She knew what must be done.
She dreaded doing it, but she had no choice—she had to know the truth. So she walked all the way from Euston to Maida Vale. She went up to the front door of a Victorian terraced house in Little Venice. She stood on the doorstep, keeping her finger pressed on the buzzer—until there were angry footsteps in the hallway, and the door was thrown open by the owner, in a rage.
“What the hell—？” Kate looked a fright. She had only recently got to sleep after a heavy night. Her hair was messy and her makeup smeared. Her anger evaporated when she saw it was Lana. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”
Lana stared at her. She said the first thing that came into her head:
“Are you fucking my husband?”
Kate breathed in sharply, practically a gasp. Then, in the same breath, she let out a long, slow, audible sigh.
“Oh, Jesus. Lana … it’s over. I ended it. I’m sorry … I’m so sorry.”
This wasn’t much—but somehow this truthful exchange provided a tiny base, a stepping stone, from which to proceed. The truth liberated them—or at least opened the door a crack. Finally, the two women could talk honestly.
Lana went inside and sat at Kate’s kitchen table. They sat there for hours and talked and cried. They were more honest with each other than they had been for years. All the misunderstandings, crossed wires, hurt feelings, lies, suspicions—they all came tumbling out. Kate confessed her feelings for Jason, there since the first day she met him. She buried her head in her hands and wept.
“I loved him,” Kate said quietly. “And you took him from me, Lana. It hurt so much. I tried to let go, I tried to forget—but I couldn’t.”
“So you tried to take him back? Is that it?”
“I tried.” Kate shrugged. “He doesn’t want me. It’s you he wants.”
“My money, you mean.”
“I don’t know. I know that you and me—that’s real. That’s love. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I can try.” Lana smiled faintly.
Perhaps this moving reconciliation isn’t that surprising—Lana and Kate were closer than ever now. They were united.
After all, they had a common enemy now.
Me.
3
Kate furiously chain-smoked cigarettes as she listened, incredulous, to Lana’s story.
“Fucking hell,” she said, her eyes wide in amazement. “Elliot is evil.”
“I know.”
“What are we going to do?”