“We live as we dream, alone”. Tonight a savage wall of waves is closing in on Jersey. The ebb tide drained the bay like a cup, leaving only shells glittering in the sand like memories. Now the full flood has roared in, and black mountains of water are hurling themselves against the jagged rocks of La Collette, where the slope plunges down like a knife into the bay. “The vision of them comes back to me in nightmares even now”, this dreamer will one day confess in her memoirs. It has been thirty-five torrid years since she slipped free of her island prison, and yet Elinor Glyn will never truly leave.
She wakes up with a start, emerging into the gratifying, dulcet warmth of her luxurious California suite. The night terrors of her home Island recede into her distant memory, and the turbulent waves in her mind slowly subside. She catches a glimpse of her flamboyant ink-red hair and glinting green eyes in the gilded mirrors of her lavish Hollywood boudoir.
Who is Elinor Glyn, this lady in the mirror?
From article published in Our Island magazine, March 2015