‘At any rate, I daresay Nina’s referring to her mood journal,’ was Sanford’s contribution. ‘She’s taken my advice – haven’t you, Nina? You’ve been plotting your emotional landscape, and keeping a diary of your thoughts and feelings. To share with the group.’
‘N-n-no-o-o,’ I replied. ‘Not really. I’ve been writing about what happened last year. When Casimir was killed.’
Nefley winced. George said, ‘Am I in it?’
‘Yes.’
George looked pleased. But Barry didn’t.
‘I’m not in it, am I?’ he asked.
‘Of course you’re in it.’ Seeing him scowl, I launched into a spirited defence of my actions. ‘How could I have left you out of it, Barry? You’re going to have to accept responsibility for the part you played.’
‘It’s got nothing to do with responsibility!’ he spat. ‘This is all about confidentiality. I’m supposed to be incognito! I’m living under a false name!’
‘Oh, the names have all been changed,’ I assured him – whereupon Sanford stiffened.
‘What do you mean, the names have been changed?’ he demanded. ‘Why would you want to do that? You’re not intending to publish this book, are you?’
‘Well … yes.’ I was surprised at the way his brows snapped together. ‘Sanford, you’re the one who said that I should stop writing fantasies. You’re the one who said I was only making things worse. So I’m trying to make things better now. I’m telling the truth.’
‘About me?’ Nefley squealed in alarm. ‘About what I did?’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’ll go to jail, that’s why not!’
‘No you won’t. People won’t find out who you are. I’ve said that you work as a mail sorter.’
‘As a mail sorter?’ Nefley was horrified. Before he could protest, however, Bridget cut in.
‘You haven’t put Reuben in it, have you?’ she inquired, with obvious concern. ‘He wouldn’t like that, Nina. You know how he feels about public exposure …’
‘I told you, I’ve used false names.’
‘And descriptions? What about false descriptions?’ Gladys seemed very anxious to clarify this point. ‘You didn’t make me too skinny, did you? You didn’t mention my scar?’
‘Gladys—’
‘I want to see what you wrote about me!’ she cried. ‘Sanford, tell Nina she has to show us her book before she does anything else with it!’
Sanford took a deep breath, just as Father Ramon lifted an admonitory hand.
‘Sanford can’t tell Nina to do anything, Gladys. You know that,’ the priest gently reminded us all. ‘But I do think that a book like this merits some very serious discussion. And we can’t discuss it unless we have some idea of what’s in it.’
‘I’d kinda like to read it myself,’ Dave mumbled. When I threw him a reproachful glance, he hastily added, ‘If I promise not to change anything.’
‘I’ll make no such promise,’ Sanford declared. ‘The safety of this group is of paramount importance. If the book compromises our security in any way, then changes will have to be made to the text.’
‘Not too many changes,’ I warned. ‘This is supposed to be the truth, Sanford. You’ve always told me to face up to the truth. To stop denying what I am.’
‘Which doesn’t mean you have to go round telling everybody else what you are!’ Dermid chimed in. And Bridget said, ‘He’s right, dear. You really do have to be very careful – for all our sakes.’
‘It’s not like we want to pretend that we’re Zadia Bloodstone,’ Dave agreed, albeit in a shamefaced manner. ‘We don’t want people to think we have superpowers, or anything. But – well – if you stick in all that stuff about blooding, and vomiting, and dead guinea pigs, and bad breath, and haemorrhages, and dizzy spells …’ Dave sighed. ‘I mean, who’s going to want us around, for God’s sake? We’ll be treated like lepers, Nina.’
So there you have it. I’ve tried to tell the truth, and I might have succeeded. Or then again, I might not. You’ll never know, will you? At least, I hope you’ll never know.
One thing, however, you can be absolutely sure of – and that’s the fact that I’ve done my best.
What more can you expect from any normal human being?
Catherine Jinks, The Reformed Vampire Support Group
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