A Nest of Nightmares

Victoria and Grace came last, and when they emerged from darkness into light Sheila did not recognize them. She saw, not strangers, but two characters she knew very well, her own creations come to life.

She saw Kayli, triumphant in red velvet, brandishing a gleaming sword, leading a hunch-backed, shaggy, conquered grenofen on a leash.

Her heart threatened to choke her, and she leaned forward, nearly dislodging the microphone, to peer against the dazzle of the spotlights, trying to see through the illusion.

Fake fur and a papier-mâché head could disguise Grace, but how on earth had the unattractive Victoria been transformed to Kayli, as noble, heroic, and beautiful as Sheila had always known her to be. Was it possible that Kayli was real? That she wasn’t an invention, but a real person, a resident of Byzantium, and Victoria had found her? What magic was this?

But it was all illusion, even if she couldn’t penetrate it. Of course Kayli and the grenofen were only Victoria and Grace, revealed when they came forward to accept their prize.

Later, sharing the few remaining donuts and listening to Grace’s delight at having won, Sheila could hardly take her eyes from Victoria. The glamour of Kayli clung to her still, making her eyes shine and her cheeks glow, giving her plain, sharp features a beauty Sheila envied.

‘Weren’t the costumes just perfect?’ Grace demanded again. ‘Weren’t they just exactly how you imagined they would look when you were writing the book, Sheila?’

Sick at heart, yet she could not deny it, Sheila pretended her mouth was too full to speak, and nodded. She knew her denial would have made no difference: Victoria had triumphed, and they both knew it.

Now Victoria smiled graciously. ‘It’s nice of you to say so, Sheila. Of course, this prize should be yours just as much as ours, because without you . . . well, without you there wouldn’t be a Kayli. You created her first, in your book. And then I was fortunate enough to be able to bring her to another kind of life.’

You stole her from me, Sheila wanted to say. Kayli was mine, Kayli was me – you took her away and you had no right. But although that was what she felt, Sheila knew well enough how it would sound. She could say nothing. Once Moonlight Under the Mountain had been published, anyone could know Kayli. There might even be someone, like Victoria, who had more claim on Kayli now than Sheila did. Sheila, after all, had scarcely thought of Kayli since she sent her in her book out into the world. She had not thought of her as a real person until she saw her in Victoria.

It wasn’t until later, after they had dropped off Grace at her house and driven back to Victoria’s, that Sheila realised she had been robbed of something more concrete than a fictional character.

‘My suitcase!’

‘What?’

‘My overnight bag,’ Sheila said, twisting feverishly around in the seat. ‘Do you remember what I did with it? Did we put it in the trunk?’ Even as she asked she could remember only too well how she had slung it into the back seat, and she could see that it was not there.

‘You didn’t say anything about it to me. Why on earth did you bring it? Why didn’t you just leave it here at home?’

‘Because I thought I would be staying in the hotel.’

‘Oh, Sheila,’ said Victoria in the weary tone she used so often with Grace. ‘You don’t mean to tell me you left it in my car all day – unlocked!’

‘It’s your car. I thought you’d lock it!’

‘Don’t shout at me. If you’d said anything, I would have suggested we lock it in the trunk. I never imagined you’d leave something valuable in the car.’

‘It wasn’t valuable. It was just my clothes, my notebook – ’ the magnitude of her loss struck her and she stopped, struggling against tears. All lost. Everything she had owned in this desolate place.

‘Now, don’t cry,’ said Victoria. ‘That’ll only make you feel worse. Things will look better in the morning. Let’s go to bed.’

She let Victoria lead her to the house but balked at the bedroom door. ‘I want to use the phone.’

‘At this hour!’

‘It’s earlier in California. Please. I have to. It’s important. The operator can bill me.’

‘I do not think this is a good idea,’ said Victoria in a tight, disapproving voice. ‘But if you insist, the phone is in the kitchen. Try not to wake mother, please.’

Damon would be able to put everything into perspective. She knew that if she could only hear his voice things would be better. She would realize that she hadn’t lost everything, only a few material possessions. She could buy herself new clothes, and Damon would give her another notebook. But she needed to hear him say so.