He climbs on the bed—the mattress gives under his weight—and enters her.  She cries out, and then she is gripping him so hard, her nail dig into his flesh.  He lets her climax before he allows himself to.  When they are finished she falls asleep almost instantly.  He lays his large hand on her stomach possessively.  He thinks of his father and of Victoria.  He will not ruin his father’s plan.  They are also his plans.  Soon he will tire of sex with her, he tells himself.

Some deep part of him knows it is a lie, but he goes to sleep snuggled against her warm, soft body, feeling good.  There is still time.  Plenty of time to sort it all out.

Twenty four

Blake has a business dinner that he expects to run late, so Billie and Lana are going to a wine bar that has just opened in Seymour Place.  She washes her hair and dresses in tight jeans and the top that Fleur had called basic even though it is rather grand, with lace and pearl buttons down the front.  Peter is on holiday and Blake has left strict instructions for her to take a taxi to and fro.  Lana goes to see her mother first.

Her mother looks well.  She is steadily gaining weight, there is color again in her cheeks, and seems in good spirits.  The pouch with her supply of antineoplastons is strapped around her waist.

‘My, don’t you look nice,’ she says, bustling Lana into the kitchen.  She puts a skillet on the stove.  ‘You can’t drink on an empty stomach.  We are having grilled chicken and salad.’  She sprinkles nuts on a bowl of salad.

They sit to eat and it is like old times.  Afterwards, she refuses all offers of help with the dishes and shoos Lana away.  ‘Go.  Go and have a good time, you.  Call me in the morning.’

‘OK, OK,’ Lana says laughing as she is bodily pushed out of her mother’s door.

At Billie’s, Lana is ordered to lose the lace top and slip into one of Billie’s skinny tops.  She has to admit the red top looks hip and a whole lot sexier.

The taxi drops them outside the entrance of Fellini’s.  They open the wooden door and enter the dimly-lit interior.  It is all green walls, chrome fittings and framed black and white photos of movie stars from the forties and fifties.  The clientele is quite a mixed bag, but seems to be mostly office folk.

They find a table and Lana buys the first round.  When it is Billie’s turn, she goes up to the bar.  A guy sidles up to the half-circle seat that Lana is sitting on.  He is wearing a suit and must be in his mid or late twenties.  He smiles at her.  Friendly face.  She will also remember later that he looked clean and trustworthy.  There is nothing about him to suggest otherwise

‘Hello, doll,’ he says. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’

‘Thanks, but my friend’s gone to get me one.’

‘Mind if I join you girls?’

‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ interrupts Billie rudely.  She is standing behind Lana and actually glowering at the man.  She looks quite tough and fierce.

‘No problem,’ he says immediately, and with a wink to Lana, gets up and goes back to join his friends, who are gathered at the bar.  He says something to them and they slap him on the back and laugh uproariously.  For some reason, their laughter disturbs Lana and makes her think it is somehow connected to her.  But Billie is saying something and she turns her head to listen.

Blake feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and instantly perceives that it is from Lana.  Why, he cannot say, for she has never called him before.  He takes his phone out of his pocket and looks at the screen.  It is her!  He excuses himself, walks away from the table, and puts his mobile to his ear.

‘Hi,’ says a voice he does not recognize.

‘Yes,’ he says, his voice, strangely abrupt.  Some part of his brain registers surprise at the state of his voice.

‘This is Billie, Lana’s friend.  Don’t panic, but some wanker has slipped a roach into her drink, and she’s gone down.’

Her accent is hard for Blake to understand, and he has never heard the term roach, but he guesses instantly that Billie must be referring to a date rape drug.  ‘Gone down?’ he repeats.

‘Look, I’ve had to leave her at the table with one of the bar staff to come outside and call you, so could you hurry here, please?’

‘Where are you?’

She gives him the address.

Without going back to the table to make his apologies, Blake rushes out of the restaurant.  He double parks outside the entrance of Loren, and bounds into the bar.  His eyes scan the room.  A young girl with extremely white hair is waving at him.  Lana is slumped against her and her head is lolling on the girl’s left shoulder.

Billie stands up and tries to keep Lana up with her hand, but Lana flops over it and moans.  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks,’ Billie says.  ‘Almost all my friends have had it slipped into their drink before, and we’ve all survived.’  She jerks her eyes towards a group of men.  ‘I think it’s them over there, but over my dead body will they be taking this girl home with them.’

Blake glances over at the men.  Six lads.  Youngish.  Their idea of fun.  As soon as they sense his eyes on them, they quickly turn away.  Blake experiences a fury that he has never know.  The urge to go over and punch their smirking faces burns his guts.  He turns towards them, raging uncontrollably.  A hand on his arm stops him.  He looks at it.  The nails are painted to look like slices of watermelon.  The sight has a strange effect on him.  He loses the edge of his anger.  He drags his eyes to hers.

‘If you prop her up on one side, we can walk her out,’ she urges.  Her voice is surprisingly strong and purposeful.  He had dismissed her, the spiders and the boiled-egg white hair.  She was more.  No wonder Lana held her in such high regard.

‘No need,’ he says, and scoops Lana up easily, as if he is Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind.

‘Oh!’ Billie exclaims.  Then she turns around and, flicking her middle finger at the group of guys who have turned to watch, follows Blake out of the restaurant.  Billie opens the passenger door and Blake deposits Lana into the seat.  He closes the door and turns to face Billie.

‘Thank you for calling me.’

Billie shrugs.  ‘No problem.  Thanks for coming.  Couldn’t take her home.  Her mum…you know how it is?’

Blake nods.  ‘How will you get home?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about me.  I’ll just hop on a bus.’

Blake frowns.  ‘Is that safe at this time of the night?’

Billie’s eyes widen.  Suddenly he seems so much older.  ‘It’s only ten o’clock, Mr. Barrington.’

Blake takes his wallet out of his pocket.  He pulls two fifties out and holds them out to Billie.  ‘Here, take a cab.’

‘Uh…taxis don’t cost that much, Mr. Barrington.’

‘Call me Blake, and please, don’t argue with me.’

Billie reaches out and takes the money.  She shifts from one foot to another.  ‘It’s not as bad as it looks.  Tomorrow will be the killer.  She’ll think she’s dying, but she’ll be OK.  Give her lots of water to drink.’

‘Thanks again.’

‘Oh, and if you want to do anything kinky to her now’s the time.  She won’t remember a thing in the morning.’

For a moment Blake stares at her in shock, and then he realizes that it is her attempt at a joke.  He shakes his head.  Strange girl.  Billie pulls Lana’s phone out of her pocket.  ‘Here’s her phone.  She’ll need to call her mum before twelve or there’ll be trouble.’

Blake takes it distractedly.  ‘OK, I’ll make sure she does.’  He walks over to his side of the car and gets in.

Billie watches the car roar powerfully into life, pick up great speed almost immediately, and take the corner at an alarming speed.  She stuffs the money into the back pocket of her black jeans and casually ambles over to the bus stop.  At the bus stop she sits on a cold plastic chair and replays the moment when Blake picked Lana up.  She will never have that, but instead of that usual tinge of envy because someone else has more than her, her little heart is soaring for Lana.