Lana quickly followed. At the back door, she took off her shoes, leaving them outside. She crept in, barefoot, silently, stealthily. She looked around.

  There was no sign of Agathi in the passage. Had she gone to her room? Or the kitchen?

  Lana deliberated which direction to go in—when heavy footsteps heading down the corridor made up her mind for her.

  Lana turned and quickly climbed the stairs.

  A few seconds later, Jason appeared at the foot of the staircase. He nearly collided with Kate, who walked in through the back door.

  They had no idea Lana was there, at the top of the stairs, watching them.

  “They’re gone,” Jason said.

  Kate stared at him. “What?”

  “The guns. They’re not there.”

  Outside the back door—from the wings—I nudged Leo onstage. “Go on,” I whispered. “Now’s your cue.”

  Leo ran inside and told Kate and Jason he had hidden the guns.

  That the guns weren’t in the chest where Leo had hidden them was a surprise to him. I had decided not to tell Leo that I had moved them; I thought it would aid his performance if he was ignorant of that.

  As it was, I could see that Leo required no acting aid. The kid’s a natural, I thought. A chip off the old block. His performance was frighteningly real in its hysteria and grief. A tour de force.

  “She’s dead!” Leo screamed. “Don’t you even care?”

  Lana, watching from the gallery, craned her neck, trying to see Jason’s reaction.

  This was what she had been waiting for. This was Lana’s real reason for agreeing to my plan. She wanted to observe Jason’s reaction to her death—to test his love. She wanted to see if Jason’s heart would break; or at least glimpse some proof that he possessed one. She wanted to see him cry; see him weep for his beloved Lana.

  Well, she saw. Jason didn’t shed a single tear. As Lana watched him from the top of the stairs, she saw he was angry, and afraid, trying to not lose control. But he wasn’t heartbroken, or grief-stricken. He was entirely unmoved.

  He doesn’t care, she thought. He doesn’t give a damn.

  And in that moment, Lana felt herself die a second time.

  Tears filled her eyes; but not her tears—no, they belonged to a little girl from long ago, who had once felt so unloved. A girl who used to crouch in this exact same position, at the top of the stairs, clutching the banister, watching her mother entertain her “men friends” down below—feeling unwanted and ignored. That is, until her mother’s friends began noticing her precocious beauty; and her troubles really began.

  Lana had gone through so much since then—since those bleak, frightening days—to ensure that she became safe, respected, unassailable—and loved. But, now, watching Jason from the top of the stairs, all that Cinderella magic vanished. Lana found herself right back where she had started: a suffering little girl, alone in the dark.

  Lana realized she was going to be sick. She pulled herself up. She ran to her bedroom, into the bathroom.

  She fell to her knees in front of the toilet and threw up.

  3

  When Lana came out of the bathroom, she found Agathi was in her bedroom, waiting for her.

  There was silence for a moment. The two women stared at each other.

  Lana realized she needn’t have worried about Agathi losing control. There was no danger of an emotional outburst. Agathi looked entirely calm. Only her red eyes showed she had recently been crying.

  “Agathi. Please let me explain.”

  Agathi spoke in a low, flat voice. “What is this? A joke? A game?”

  “No.” Lana hesitated. “It’s more complicated than that.”

  “Then what?”

  “I can tell you, if you’ll let me—”

  “How could you do this, Lana?” Agathi searched her eyes, incredulous. “How could you be so cruel? You let me think you died. You broke my heart—”

  “I’m sorry—”

  “No. I do not accept your apology. Let me tell you something, Lana. You are a most selfish, self-deluding person. I see all this—and I love you. Because I thought you loved me.”

  “I do love you.”

  “No.” Agathi rolled her eyes in angry contempt. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “You are not capable. You don’t know how to love.”

  Lana stared at her, deeply pained. “Selfish and self-deluding? Is that what you think? Perhaps … you’re right. But I am capable of love. I love you.”

  They stared at each other for an instant. Then Lana went on, quietly. “I need your help, Agathi. Let me try and explain. Please.”

  Agathi didn’t reply. She just stared at her.

  4

  Meanwhile, I reluctantly agreed to accompany Jason and Nikos on their search of the island—looking for a nonexistent intruder.

  I felt increasingly resentful as we made our way along the coast, battered by the wind. I was exhausted; and my newish shoes had been ruined from wading through undergrowth, mud, and sand. I was also anxious to get back to Lana—and Agathi.

  But Jason was proving annoyingly methodical in his search, intent on examining every square foot of the island. Even when we reached the cliffs—and it was finally obvious no boat was moored on the island—Jason refused to accept defeat. I think in some perverse way, he was enjoying himself; acting like a hero in a bad movie.

  “Let’s keep going,” he shouted, to be heard over the wind.

  “Where?” I shouted. “There’s no one here. Let’s go back.”

  Jason shook his head. “We have to search the buildings first.” He shone his flashlight into Nikos’s face. “Starting with his place.”

  Nikos glared at him, blinking in the light. He didn’t respond.

  Jason smiled. “That a problem?”

  Nikos shook his head, frowning. He didn’t take his eyes off Jason.

  “Good,” Jason said. “Come on.”

  “Not me,” I said. “I’ll see you back at the house.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To check on the others.”

  Before Jason could object, I marched off.

  As I hurried along the path, back to the house, I wondered whether Lana had managed to placate Agathi. Hopefully Lana had smoothed things over and persuaded her to play ball.

  But, knowing Agathi, I felt far from confident Lana would succeed.

  As I entered the house through the French windows, I looked around. There was no sign of anyone. I took the opportunity to crouch down by the long sofa and, reaching underneath, I felt for the guns I’d hidden there earlier.

  I pulled out a revolver.

  I looked at it for a moment, feeling its weight in my hand. I checked the barrel. It was empty. I took out the bullets from my pockets—I’d stolen a handful from the box in the gun room. I carefully loaded it.

  I didn’t know much about guns. Just the basics—taught to me by Lana, when Jason first acquired them. She learned to shoot on the set of a Western she did—and we had a practice session, she and I, one afternoon, on the island. I wasn’t a bad shot.

  Even so, I was afraid of this weapon I was holding. My fingers were slightly trembling, as I placed the gun in my pocket. I kept one hand on it, cautiously, through my trousers.

  I checked my reflection in the mirror.

  And there, reflected in the mirror, right behind me, was Lana’s bloodstained corpse—staring at me with bloodshot eyes.

  I jumped and spun around.

  Lana looked a fright—covered in bullet wounds, dried blood, and dirt. An incongruous sight in this elegant living room. I laughed.

  “Christ, you scared me. What are you doing here? Get back to the ruin before Jason sees you.”

  Lana didn’t reply. She walked in and poured herself a drink.

  “You went a bit off-piste back there, love. Running after Agathi like that. Take it from me—nothing is more catastrophic than when an actress starts writing her own script. Always ends in tears.”

  I was joking—trying to make her laugh. But it didn’t work. Lana didn’t even crack a smile.

  “Where is everyone?” I said. “Where’s Kate?”

  “In the summerhouse. With Leo.”

  “Good. He gave a marvelous performance, by the way. He’s inherited your talent. He’ll go far.”

  Lana didn’t reply. She took one of Kate’s cigarettes from the table and lit it. I watched her smoke, feeling uneasy.

  “You spoke to Agathi?”

  Lana nodded and blew out a long line of smoke.

  I frowned. “And? Did you square it with her? Has she given you her blessing?”

  “No, she has not. She’s very upset.”

  I laughed. “You should have told her it was my idea.”

  “I did.”

  “And? What did she say?”

  “That you’re evil.”

  “That’s a little dramatic. Anything else?”

  “That God will punish you.”

  “I think he already has.”

  “It’s over, Elliot.” Lana stubbed out the cigarette. “She said this must stop. Now.”

  Ah, I thought. So that was it. I tried not to sound too annoyed.

  “It’s not finished yet. We still have the final act. Agathi has to wait until the curtain.”

  “It’s curtain, now. It’s over.”

  “What about Jason?”

  Lana shrugged. She whispered, more to herself than to me, “Jason doesn’t care. He thinks I’m dead—and he doesn’t care.”

  She looked wretched as she said this.

  At last, I thought. At last, Lana was awake. At last, she had seen the light. I had been waiting for this moment. Now we could begin again, she and I—on an equal footing this time. We could begin again—with honesty, and truth.

  “Very well. It’s over. What now?”

  Lana shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “I have an idea—if you care to hear it.”

  Despite herself, Lana glanced at me with faint curiosity. “Well?”

  It seemed like the moment for truth. So I went for it.

  “Remember that night you first met Jason? On the South Bank? We’ve never spoken about that night.”

  “What about it?”

  “I had a ring on me.… I was going to ask you to marry me.”

  Lana looked up at me. I could see the surprise in her eyes.

  I smiled. “But Jason got there first, unfortunately. I’ve often wondered what would have happened if you hadn’t met him that night.”

  Lana looked away. “Nothing would have happened.”

  Now it was my turn to look surprised. “Nothing?”

  She shrugged. “You and I were friends, that’s all.”

  “Were?” I smiled. “I was under the impression we still are. And a damn sight more than that—and you know it.” I felt suddenly quite angry. “Why can’t you be honest with yourself, just for once? I love you, Lana. Leave him. Marry me.”

  Lana stared at me, silent, as if she hadn’t heard me.

  “I mean it. Marry me—and be happy.”

  It took all of my courage to say this. I held my breath.

  There was a pause. Lana’s response, when it came, was brutal. She laughed. A cold hard laugh, like a slap in the face.

  “And then what?” she said. “Fall down the stairs, like Barbara West?”

  I felt like I’d been punched. I stared at her, stunned. I felt—well, you know me as well as anyone, by now—you can imagine how I felt. I didn’t trust myself to speak. I was afraid I might say something unforgivable, something that would cross an uncrossable line.

  So, I didn’t say anything. I turned and walked out.

  5

  I exited the same way I had entered. I went out through the French windows, onto the veranda.

  I made my way down the steps, buffeted by the wind—and by my thoughts. I couldn’t believe what Lana had said to me. That mean joke about Barbara West—it was so unlike her. I didn’t understand.

  Even now, as I write this, I struggle to comprehend her cruelty in that moment. It was so out of character; I couldn’t believe it of my friend, of Lana. But perhaps I could believe it of that other, hidden person; that frightened girl lurking beneath the skin, so full of pain and wanting to lash out.

  I would forgive her, of course. I had to. I loved her. Even if, sometimes, she could be cruel.

  I was lost in a cloud of thought, and I didn’t see Jason coming. I collided with him at the bottom of the steps.

  Jason shoved me back. “What the fuck—?”

  “Sorry. I was looking for you. Did you search Nikos’s place?”

  Jason nodded. “Nothing there.”

  “Where is Nikos now?”

  “In his cottage. I told him to wait there until the police get here.”

  “Okay, good.”

  Jason tried to pass me and climb the steps. I stopped him.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “I have good news. Agathi just spoke to the police.”

  “And?”

  “The wind has dropped. They’re on their way over right now.”

  A look of relief appeared on Jason’s face. “Oh, thank Christ for that.”

  “Shall we go and wait for them on the jetty?”

  Jason nodded. “Good idea.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Wait a second.” He gave me a suspicious look. “Where are you going?”

  “To tell Kate.” Unable to resist, I added, “Unless you prefer to?”

  “No.” Jason shook his head. “You do it.”

  Jason turned on his heel, heading toward the beach—and the jetty.

  I watched him go, smiling to myself.

  Then, keeping a firm grip on the revolver in my pocket, I went to find Kate—to finish this.

  * * *

  As I made my way to the summerhouse, I felt grimly determined to continue with my plan—whatever the cost.

  I won’t lie and say my anger toward Lana at that moment didn’t spur me on. But there was no way I could stop this now, despite Lana’s objections. No more than you can stop a boulder you’ve sent rolling down a hill. It was bigger than all of us now; it had taken on its own momentum. We had no choice but to let this drama play out. As an actor, Lana should have understood that.

  I neared the summerhouse and saw the door open. Leo came out. I quickly hid behind a tree. I waited until he passed by. Then I crept over to the summerhouse window and peered inside.

  Kate was alone inside. She looked a mess. Scared, paranoid, upset. It had been a rough night for her.

  Unfortunately, it was about to get worse.

  I walked to the door. I reached out to open it—then, unaccountably, I froze.

  I stood, motionless—paralyzed by a sudden and unexpected attack of stage fright. It had been many years since I’d done any acting—and never before had I played such an important role. Everything depended on my performance in this scene with Kate. This was the final magic trick I had to pull off. I needed to be 100 percent convincing—everything I said and did had to seem entirely innocent and believable.

  In other words, I had to give the performance of my life.

  I steeled myself, then knocked loudly on the door.

  “Kate? It’s me. We need to talk.”

  6

  Seeing it was me, Kate unlocked the door. I pushed it open and went inside the summerhouse.

  “Lock it.” She gestured at the door.

  I did as she asked, sliding the bolt across. “I just saw Leo outside. I told him to meet us at the jetty.”

  “The jetty?”

  “The police are on their way. We’re going there, to wait. All of us.”

  Kate didn’t reply for a moment. I watched her closely. There was a slight sway to her movements, a slur to her words; but hopefully she was sober enough to take in what I had to say.

  “Kate, did you hear me? The police are coming.”

  “I heard. Where’s Jason? Did you find anything? What happened?”

  I shook my head. “We searched the island, top to bottom.”

  “And?”

  “Nothing.”

  “No boat?”

  “No boat. No intruder. No one’s here but us.”

  This clearly didn’t come as much of a surprise to her. She nodded to herself. “It’s him. He killed her.”

  “Who are you talking about?”

  “Nikos, of course.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “It’s not Nikos.”

  “Yes, it is. He’s crazy. You just have to look at him. He’s—”

  “He’s dead.”

  Kate stared at me, open-mouthed. “What?”

  “Nikos is dead,” I repeated quietly.

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know—I wasn’t there.” I avoided eye contact as I said this. I felt Kate staring at me, feverishly trying to work me out. “They were searching the north side of the island, where the cliffs are, and Nikos fell.… That’s what Jason said. That’s what he told me. But I wasn’t there.”

  “What are you trying to—?” Kate looked frightened. “Where’s Jason?”

  “He’s at the jetty, with the others.”

  Kate stubbed out her cigarette. “I’m going to find him.”

  “Wait. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  “It can wait.”

  “No, it can’t.”

  Kate ignored me and walked to the door. It was now or never.

  “He killed her,” I said.

  Kate stopped. She looked at me. “What?”

  “Jason killed Lana.”

  Kate half laughed but it turned into a choke. “You’re mad.”

  “Kate, listen. I know we don’t always see eye to eye. But you’re an old friend—and I don’t want you to come to any harm. I need to warn you.”

  “Warn me? About what?”

  “This isn’t going to be easy.” I gestured at a chair. “Do you want to sit down?”

  “Fuck off.”

  I sighed, then spoke patiently. “Okay—how much has Jason told you about his finances?”

  Kate was bemused by the question. “His what?”