Prologue
A girl’s bedroom may only be a room in someone else’s castle, but it is a private place where there are very few days. It is a place where the past and future dance together in dreams that are so sweet that they end there only on the brightest, prettiest mornings.
Many bedrooms later, as an adult, it is that child’s room that is still the safe retreat from a hostile world. It is there that dreams still live and beckon to an older self to dance again.
Getting fired on my birthday didn’t do much for my self-esteem, my budget or my faith in the human race. The shock sent me back to my room to find a particular of gold shoes and the dreams that go with them. The door to that room had been closed for some time. Inside was a wealth of clutter, and I had to search and search until I found the box the shoes were in. It was still there and, when opened revealed the shoes and, on top of them, a picture of a friend of mine. It somehow seemed appropriate, after slipping back into that room and those shoes, to invite him to dance. And there followed this pas de deux.
--Sarah Langford 1992--
