Everything about her fascinated me. She wasn’t afraid of any of the adults and would often wisecrack back at the teachers. I think she came from a broken family or perhaps her witty cynicism was an inherent part of her. When I remember Lana - those rebellious blue eyes, often-untied shoelaces and air of “don’t-mess-with-me-or-you’ll-be-sorry” – they are always a part of the image that springs to my mind.

Lana moved away only a year later when her mother married a French artist of dubious connections and moved to Europe. Through mutual friends years into my adolescence I often heard gossip of how she ran away from home, dropped out of school, backpacked across Europe and numerous other exploits. The seventies gave her an opportunity to indulge every wild side of her nature.

I never met Lana again but I still wish I could just one more time. Maybe it’s the six-year old in me that never got his heroine-worship.