Nothing has changed.

He will marry Victoria.  He takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves a text for his secretary:

 Red roses—Lana.

  White roses—Victoria

Thirteen

‘I’m baking a cake,’ Lana’s mother says.

‘You are?’  There is a brightness in Lana’s voice.  Her mother only bakes when she is feeling good.

‘Lemon, your favorite.’

‘Oh good.’

‘What time are you coming home?’

‘I’m leaving now actually.’

‘Good.  I want you to take a quarter over to Jack’s mum.’

‘OK.  See you in twenty minutes,’ Lana says and after putting a jar of blackberry jam, two tins of biscuits, and a box of fancy chocolates into her bag, leaves the apartment.  She takes the bus to Kilburn.

As she is running up the steps she meets Tom’s sister who says, ‘Heard you snagged yourself a rich boyfriend.’

‘Not quite,’ Lana replies, and before she can be bullied into a confessional conversation steps aside, saying, ‘Sorry, Ann, but got to rush.’  She runs past her taking the shallow steps two at a time.  Already the curtain twitchers have spread the story.

She turns the key in their blue door and is greeted by the fragrant smell of her mother’s baking.  It is instantly familiar and dear.  This is her home.  Her mother is in the kitchen washing up after the baking.

‘Hey, I can do that for you.’

‘No, I’m finished,’ her mother says, turns the tap shut and snaps off her rubber gloves.  She faces her daughter.  Her eyes, assessing, careful, and worried, change when she sees Lana.

‘Oh my God!’ she cries.  ‘Your hair.  I can’t believe how beautiful you look.’

Lana smiles at her mother.  ‘I missed you yesterday.’

‘Have you had breakfast?’

‘Yeah.  I brought some stuff for you.’ Lana reaches into her knapsack, brings out the tins of biscuits and chocolates and puts it on her mother’s small kitchen table.  Her mother comes forward, but she does not touch the food.  Instead she looks at her daughter.  ‘Did you steal this?’  Her voice is no more than a whisper.

‘Mum!’ Lana cries, shocked.  ‘What are you saying?  Blake’s secretary bought all this for me and I brought some back for you.’

Her mother sinks weakly into a chair.  ‘Sorry.  Sorry, Lana.  Of course, you would never steal.  I’ve just been so worried about you.  Everything is so different.  I don’t know what to think anymore.’

The oven pings and she stands, but Lana pushes her down gently.

‘I’ll get it,’ she says, and donning the oven gloves takes the cake out.  It smells divine and is nicely risen.  She closes the oven door, puts the cake on the metal rack and leans against the sink.  ‘Shall I put the kettle on?  We need to talk.’

Her mum nods and Lana sets about making the tea.  While the tea is boiling she lays cups and saucers. Everyone else in the estate drinks from mugs except her mother, who always uses a cup and saucer.  She pours the boiling water into the teapot and carries it to the table.  When the tea has brewed she pours it out into two cups.  She opens a tin of biscuits from Fortnum and Masons and holds it out to her mum.  Her mum’s thin, pale fingers hesitantly take one.  She bites into it and chews.

‘Nice?’ Lana asks.

Her mother nods.

‘You’re going to America on Wednesday, Mum.’

Lana’s mother puts the biscuit down beside the saucer.  She links her hands tightly under the table and faces her daughter.

‘I’m going nowhere until I know exactly what is going on.  Exactly how you are getting all this money.  And what you are doing for it.’

‘I explained last night.  The man I am seeing has given it to us.’

‘Who is this man that has fifty thousand pounds to spare?’

‘Mum, he’s a millionaire many times over.  He gave me double what I asked.’

Her mother stares at her aghast.  ‘You asked him for money?  I didn’t bring you up to ask men for money.’

‘Yeah, I asked him and so what?  I didn’t force him or steal it.’

‘Well, I don’t want it.  I’d rather shrivel up and die than use this money.’

Lana freezes.  She stares at her mother in shock.  Her mother’s face is set in the stubborn lines that Lana knows mean that her mind is made up.  It cannot be changed.  Lana swallows the lump in her throat and stands suddenly.  ‘You’d make me an orphan for your stupid pride,’ she accuses.

Her mother blinks suddenly, the wind taken out of her sails.

‘Are you going to sit there and tell me that if I was dying and had a few weeks left to live you wouldn’t have asked a filthy rich stranger for a bit of money?’

Her mother says nothing.

‘High and mighty ideals and principles are all right when you are not utterly, utterly desperate, Mum.’

‘You didn’t just ask him, did you?  Tell the truth.  You prostituted yourself.’

‘Assuming that I did.  And I didn’t.’  Lana says a little prayer for her lie.  ‘Wouldn’t you have done the same for me?’

Her mother begins to cry.  ‘You don’t understand.  You will, one day, when you have your own child.  I am not important.’  She beats her chest with both her hands.  ‘This is just worm food.  I won’t have you sully yourself for this destroyed body.  You are young.  You have your whole life ahead of you and I am going to die, anyway.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Lana whispers fiercely.

‘But I am.  And it’s time you accepted that.’

‘Remember when Daddy left and I swore to take care of you?’

Her mother’s eyes become bleak.  ‘Yes.’

‘Would you have me break my promise?’

‘I going for another bout of chemo on Monday.’

‘What for, Mum?  What for?  That stuff is so dangerous it’ll probably kill you before the cancer does.’

Her mother’s lips move wordlessly.  Then she covers her mouth with one hand.  ‘Sit down, Lana,’ she whispers.  ‘Please.’

Lana shakes her head. ‘No, I won’t.  What’s the point?  In all the time I was trying to find a way to keep you alive I never thought that it would be you that would stand in my way.’

Lana turns away from her mother and begins to walk out of the house.  She has sold herself for nothing.  She reaches the front door and she hears her mother shout from the kitchen, ‘Do you like him?’

She turns around and her mother is standing there so frail and breakable.  Now she can be truthful. ‘Yes.’

‘I’ll go.’

Lana walks towards her mother.

‘I’m sorry,’ her mother sobs.

Lana takes her poor wasted body in her arms and the tears begin to flow.  Neither says anything.  Finally, when Lana can speak, she chokes out.  ‘I love you, Mum.  With all my heart.  Please don’t leave me.  You’re my mum.  I’d do anything, anything for you.’

‘I know, I know,’ her mother soothes softly.

‘Oh shit,’ Lana says.

‘What?’

Lana steps away from her mother.  She puts her hand into her pocket and brings out bits of blue shell.  ‘I brought you a blue egg.’

Her mother tries, she really tries hard, but a giggle breaks through.  For a few moments Lana can only stare at the rare spectacle of her mother stifling laughter.  Then she too cracks up.

‘Take that jacket off and go wash your hand,’ her mother finally says.  ‘I’ll make us a fresh pot of tea and we’ll have some of those nice biscuits you brought.’

‘They are nice, aren’t they?’  Lana agrees, slipping off her soiled jacket and walking towards the sink.

Lana is wiping her hands on a tea towel when her mother says, ‘And you’ll have to bring that nice man—Blake Barrington, did you say?—over to dinner.’

‘Uh, yeah… When you get back from your treatment.’

Her mother stops and looks at her.  ‘I’m going to meet that young man before I get on the plane and I’ll have no more said on the matter,’ she says firmly.

While they are having their tea Lana tells her mother about the appointment she has made for a wig fitting in Selfridges.