A Nest of Nightmares

‘Late for what? Was there something on TV – you-know-who isn’t on tonight, is he?’

Sheila felt herself blushing. She wasn’t going to talk about Damon; she would pretend she hadn’t heard. ‘I just don’t want to miss my plane,’ she said.

Victoria stared in disbelief, and Sheila’s certainty crumbled. ‘It . . . is tonight, isn’t it? Not tomorrow?’ She couldn’t spend another night with Victoria; another night and she might never get away, she thought.

‘What are you babbling about, Sheila?’ said Victoria, as wearily as if this was an old, old question.

Sheila dug in her bag for the ticket, praying that it had not been stolen, too. But there it was; she pulled it out, seeing the stiff blue folder enclosing the flimsy ticket, but when she looked at it more closely, she froze. It was a one-way ticket. There could be no mistake, yet she stared, willing herself to be wrong, reading it again and again. Had it changed in the same way and for the same occult reasons as she had herself? Why hadn’t she noticed before? She was certain that she would not have left Los Angeles with only a one-way ticket in her hand – not a one-way ticket to Texas, and no money for her return.

‘I can’t stay here,’ she said. ‘I have to go back.’

‘Where would you go back?’

‘Home. Los Angeles.’

‘That’s not your home. What’s in Los Angeles? Damon Greene? Your imaginary boyfriend? You really think he’ll notice if you’re in Los Angeles or in Texas?’

‘But I live there – I have an apartment and a job – ’

‘You don’t. You’ve been making things up again. People like you don’t live in Hollywood. You wouldn’t fit in. You’re much better off here, where you belong. You can stay in my room, and I might even be able to wangle you a job at Eckard’s. It’s not a bad place to work. You’ll have time to write. You’ll settle down.’

She wanted to argue, but everything she thought she knew had slipped away. What could she give as proof? Damon? The apartment? The series of temporary jobs in glamorous locations? All those things felt unreal now, as if she had only seen them on television. ‘I won’t stay here . . . you can’t make me.’

‘How ungrateful!’ said Grace, and Sheila looked at her, really for the first time since she had met her. She was shocked by the envy and hatred she saw on the fat, white face.

‘She doesn’t mean to be rude,’ said Victoria. ‘She just doesn’t understand.’

‘Oh, yes I do,’ said Sheila, although she didn’t. ‘I’m not stupid, I can see what you’re doing to me. Changing me, confusing me, trapping me. All right, you’ve got me now, but not forever. Maybe I can’t afford to leave now, with twenty dollars in my purse, but it won’t take me long to get out of here. I’m not like you. I got away once before. It’s not just dreaming. I had another life – the life I wanted. A life you’ll never know. I wrote a book and had it published.’

‘You think that makes you special?’

‘I know it does. I’m different from you.’

Victoria adjusted her glasses, checked the top button on her blouse, and moistened her lips. ‘You may be different,’ she said in her thin, colourless voice, ‘but you need us. Don’t blame us for that. We didn’t trick you into coming here; nobody forced you to use that ticket. You wanted to come back, so we helped you. Hollywood was no good for you. You couldn’t measure up, and you couldn’t write anymore. You wanted to escape but you didn’t know where or how. So we helped you. You’re safe here, and you can stay just as long as you like.’ She looked down at her empty plate, wiped her mouth with a folded napkin, and said, ‘I think we might as well go home now, don’t you?’

Not my home, thought Sheila, but she followed them out to the car. During the dark, familiar drive back to Byzantium she was thinking furiously, planning her escape.

Money was the most important thing, so she would get a job, even if it meant working in a drugstore with Victoria. She didn’t have to pay attention to her. And she would go on a diet and start exercising to lose this flab; get a facial scrub and do something about her hair, buy herself some more clothes, and when she was herself again she’d fly back to Los Angeles and take up her real life.

Sheila leaned back against the seat, feeling something inside her unknot. With all that out of the way, she could think about something more interesting. It was as easy as dreaming.

Kayli was under the mountain again, although Sheila wasn’t sure exactly why. Kayli didn’t know, either. Her mind was cloudy with drugs, and someone had tied her hands behind her and left her in this dark turning of one of the tunnels. She didn’t know where she was or what she had to do, but she would triumph. Despite her confusion, despite the constraints, her will was unbroken. All through the night she planned her escape.

TREADING THE MAZE

We had seen the bed and breakfast sign from the road, and although it was still daylight and there was no hurry to settle, we had liked the look of the large, well-kept house amid the farmlands, and the name on the sign: The Old Vicarage.