“Oh yes, that was really embarrassing,” said Liv-on-the-swing, and a diabolical grin flashed over her face.
A sparrow flew up from somewhere and looked at me with its head on one side, as if wondering whether I’d fit into its beak, but I took no notice. It could have been a dangerous bird of prey for all I cared; I didn’t mind. Because something had just become clear to me—something that altered the situation considerably.
That grin—it wasn’t my grin. Any more than those were my eyes looking all around the garden and coming back to Mia.
The person on the swing beside her wasn’t someone she had dreamed up.
She was just someone making herself out to be me.
I realized I was having difficulty in keeping my balance. The longer my dragonfly eyes stared at the Liv in the ball gown, the less like me she looked. What I’d been most afraid of had actually happened. But who on earth was she? Who was sitting there beside my little sister, asking her questions?
The false Liv bent over to Mia, giggling. “And the second-most embarrassing moment?”
The silly giggle was too much for me. With a single furious beat of my wings, I shot past the hungry sparrow and stopped behind the nearest apple tree. There, in the shelter of its sturdy trunk, I changed shape again.
When I stepped out of the shadows and went over to the swing, Mia and the fake Liv looked at me in surprise.
“Sherlock Holmes!” cried Mia, and Liv said, “Benedict Cumberbatch.”
They were both right. I was Benedict Cumberbatch as Sherlock Holmes. “Hey, Watson,” I said.
“Hey,” Mia whispered back, delighted. The false Liv must think that Mia had dreamed Sherlock here because she’d been feeling a little bored. Fake-Liv smiled, obviously amused.
I looked her up and down. “And who’s this supposed to be?” I asked. Normally I’d have been enjoying this, particularly since I was doing very well with Benedict Cumberbatch’s deep voice, but right now I was too angry. Who the hell was this in front of me?
“This is my sister, Liv.” Mia beamed at me.
I gave her a typical Sherlock look. “She does look like your sister—almost enough like her to take people in.” Wow, my voice was so sexy.
“What’s all this?” asked Dream-Liv, flabbergasted.
“Oh, come on!” I was getting more and more sure of myself. “I saw it a mile off. The artificial tilt of your head, that stupid giggle, the affected way you toss your hair back—the real Liv is light-years cooler than you.”
“And you’re nothing but a totally overestimated late starter of an actor with no noticeable talent,” said Dream-Liv, annoyed. “I’ll never understand what women see in you. You look like a fish. If it wasn’t for that voice, not a soul would think anything of you.”
“But, Liv!” Mia was staring at her pretended dream-sister in horror. “You’re his greatest fan.”
“Very true,” I said, returning to my own form.
Dream-Liv and Mia were both left gasping for air.
“Take a good look and then tell me which of us is the real Liv,” I said. In my own voice again, unfortunately.
“Well, I’ve been sitting here all this time,” said Dream-Liv with a confused smile. “Whereas you were Benedict Cumberbatch just now.”
“That’s true,” murmured Mia.
“Okay,” I said. “Then let’s settle it once and for all. Show us what your poor bruised bum looked like after the skiing trip in Switzerland, Liv!”
The false Liv began to laugh. It wasn’t my laugh, and while she was laughing, she changed shape. Her hair grew longer and wavier, and took on a darker golden shade of blond, her complexion was pure alabaster, and her eye color mutated from an ordinary blue to a definitely extraordinary turquoise.
I could hardly take in what I was seeing. Would we never learn to see through her mask of innocence? At least Henry hadn’t done any better at it than me. He had believed her.
“Anabel,” I said, hoping my voice sounded as acid as I felt. “What was it you said? I for one have nothing to do with it?”
Anabel slid off the swing and stationed herself in front of me. She was still wearing my ball gown. I’m sorry to say that she looked even better in it than I did.
“Of course I have something to do with it,” she said, and as usual, her gentle voice made me shiver. “Who else?”
Yes, who else? Mia seemed only mildly surprised by what was going on in her dream. She looked interested rather than shocked.
“But…” I stared at Anabel. How had she done it? How had she made her way into Mia’s dream? “You’re locked up in that hospital. Miles from London. How did you get your hands on something belonging to Mia?”
Anabel’s right eyelid twitched. “I have ways and means that you don’t know anything about,” she said.
Had she always been so tall?
“In fact, you know remarkably little for someone who changes shape so perfectly.” She smiled her honey-sweet smile. “My compliments on your Benedict Cumberbatch impersonation. I couldn’t have done it better myself.”
No, no, no.