Lana takes the proffered glass, still shaking her head at her friend’s total lack of inhibitions.  They clink glasses.  ‘Here’s to…’ Billie grins wickedly. ‘hot sex with anyone.’  They down the vodka and Billie thumps her chest.  So early in the morning the alcohol has an immediate effect on Lana. Heat spreads quickly through her veins and makes her feel light-headed.  The future seems exciting suddenly.

Billie’s mother yells, ‘Breakfast is ready,’ from downstairs.

Billie lets her head hit the pillow behind her in disgust.  ‘God, she does my head in.  If only she wouldn’t do that.  Every fucking morning she goes on about breakfast.  You’d have thought after nineteen years she’d know I don’t eat that shit.’  She twists her body and reaches out to the little cupboard under the drawers of her bedside cabinet and takes out a jar of strawberry jam and a spoon.  She unscrews the lid and feeds herself a spoonful of jam.

Lana simply looks at her.

‘Don’t say it,’ Billie warns.

‘I won’t, but really, Billie, your mum’s right.  How can you eat jam for breakfast?’

‘For the one thousandth time because it’s delicious.’  She spoons another mouthful in, and commands, ‘Now, tell me every inappropriate thing that happened last night.  Don’t leave a single thing out.’

Lana tells her everything except for the kiss, which she herself cannot make sense of and cannot bring herself to talk about.  Billie’s eyes alight on the orange coat and she smiles smugly.  ‘I told you the dress and coat were lucky.  This is what you wanted, right?’

‘Yeah, it’s what I wanted.  More than anything else in the world.  You’re still OK to travel with my mum, aren’t you?’

‘Of course.  I love your mother too, you know.’

‘Thanks, Bill,’ Lana’s voice breaks.

‘Don’t thank me.  I’m going on an all expenses paid trip to America! Yee…haa…’

‘I don’t know what I’d do without you and Jack.’

‘Talking about Jack, what and when are you going to tell him?’

Lana sighs.  ‘Everything, this weekend.’

‘He won’t be happy.’

‘I know, but he’ll understand.  I’ve got no choice, Bill.’

‘I know, babe.’

‘Bill, thanks again for agreeing to accompany my mum.  I really don’t know what I’d do without you.’

‘There’s a big, black car parked outside,’ Jane’s mother hollers.

Billie leap-frogs to the end of her bed and, standing on her bed with her palms resting on the windowsill, cranes her neck to look out into the street below.  ‘Jesus, Lana, that’s a Bentley with a driver in a peaked cap.’

Lana looks at the clock face.  ‘That’ll be my ride.  Got to go.  Call you later.’

Billie sits on the windowsill, exhales and, through the smoke says, ‘Say hello to banker boy for me, won’t you?’

Lana runs down the stairs and finds Jane standing at the bottom of them.  Her round, red face looks quite animated.  ‘Is that car here for you?’

‘Looks like it,’ Lana says as she disappears into her own home.  She picks up her rucksack, makes sure her ID is in it, kisses her mother and runs out towards the waiting Bentley.

Eight

The driver is standing outside the car by the time she gets to it.  He touches his cap.  ‘Miss Lana Bloom.’

She nods breathlessly.

‘Good morning.  Peter Edwards,’ he says, by way of introduction and opens the back door for her.  She sinks into the fragrant, immaculately pale interior and he shuts the door after her.  Along the building she sees the heads of all her neighbors.  The leather under her palm is soft and cool.  Peter gets into the front and looks at her in the rearview mirror.  He has soft brown eyes that crinkle in the corners.  He takes a white envelope from the passenger seat and twists around to hand it to her.  ‘Our first stop is the doctor.  This is for him.’

‘Thanks,’ Lana says, and takes the letter.  It has her doctor’s name written in blue ink.  It is unsealed.  The glass that separates them closes and the engine hums into life.  She opens the letter and reads it.  It is a request for her medical records.

Her mobile lights up.  It is Jack.

‘Hey,’ he says.  His voice is bright and full of life.

‘Hey,’ she replies matching his brightness.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.  Why?’

‘Come on… I know you better than that.  Spit it out, Lana.’

‘OK, but not on the phone.  Are you coming down this weekend to see your mother?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well, I’ll tell you then.’

‘No, you won’t.  I’ll come by my mum’s for dinner.  You can tell me then.’

‘I’ve got a date.’

There is a silence. ‘Really?  That’s great.  Anyone I know?’

‘You don’t know him, but you might have heard of him.’

‘Well?’

‘Blake Law Barrington.’

‘The Blake Barrington.’

‘Yeah.’

‘You’ve got a date with a Barrington?  How?  What are you not telling me, Lana?’  He sounds worried.

‘It’s not really a date, but I can’t tell you on the phone.’

‘You’re not doing anything stupid, are you?’ he asks apprehensively.

‘No, Jack.  I’m not.  I’m doing the only thing I can do.’

‘It’s something to do with your mum, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Oh! Shit, Lana.  You didn’t.’

‘I did.’

‘You’re better than this.’

‘Jack, my mum’s dying.  She’s stage four.  She doesn’t have months to live.  The doctors have given her weeks.’

‘Oh, Lana.  Can’t we borrow the money?’

Lana’s laugh is bitter.  ‘Who can I ask, Jack?  Tom?  And if I ask Tom what will I need to do for the money?’

‘What do you need to do for the money now?’

‘What I am doing won’t land me in prison.  It’s just sex, Jack.’

Jack goes silent.

‘It won’t be for long.’

‘How long?’

‘It’s for a month.’

‘That long?’

‘It’s a lot of money, Jack.’

‘Don’t give the shit a day more than a month.’

‘I won’t.  I’ve got to go, but I will see you during the weekend.  And thanks for caring about me.’

‘It’s just a bad habit.’

‘Jack?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I miss you, you know.’

‘Just be safe, Lana.’

‘Bye, Jack.’

‘Bye, Lana,’ he says and there is so much sadness in his voice that Lana wants to call him back and reassure him that it isn’t so bad.  She is not selling her soul, only her body.

In the doctor’s surgery Lana passes over the envelope and is ushered into a room with the nurse who asks and does the necessary with brisk efficiency.  Afterwards, she discusses several options and recommends Microgynon.

‘Take it from today.  Since your last period ended two days ago you should be protected immediately, but just to be safe use a condom for the next seven days,’ she advises.  Twenty minutes after Lana entered that small blue and white room she has a prescription for three months’ supply of contraceptive pills.

The receptionist has an envelope addressed to Mr. Jay Benby for Lana.  This letter is sealed.

Lana thanks her and goes outside.  Peter jumps out of the car and opens the door for her.  He goes around the back of the car and gets into the driver’s seat.

‘If you give me the prescription, I’ll pick it up for you while you are at the solicitors.’

For some strange reason Lana feels the heat rush up her throat.

‘I have daughters your age,’ he says kindly, and Lana leans forward and hands him the prescription.  ‘Thanks, Mr. Edwards.’

‘No worries.’

‘Er… How long have you been working for Mr. Barrington?’

‘Going on five years now.’

‘Is he… Is he a fair man?’

Peter Edwards meets her eyes in the mirror.  ‘He’s as straight as a die,’ he says, but by his tone Lana realizes that he will volunteer no more than that.  She turns her head and watches the people on the street.

The solicitor’s offices are in an old building in the West End.  She is surprised to note that it is not the slick place she had expected.  The hushed air of importance, mingled with an impression that nothing much ever happens here, makes it feel more like a library.  A receptionist shows her into Mr. Jay Benby’s room.