Barbara Erskine 3-Book Collection: Lady of Hay, Time’s Legacy, Sands of Time. Barbara Erskine
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and let Jo alone for a couple of days. In fact leave her alone until you get back from your wanderings across Europe. She does know you are going away?’
Nick shrugged. He was buttoning his shirt. ‘Scotland I can’t cancel, but the trip to France I could postpone.’
‘Don’t.’ Sam walked into the kitchen and rummaged on the shelf for the jar of coffee. ‘It isn’t worth it. Jo has made it clear enough it is over between you. Don’t let a temporary wave of sentiment because you saw her unhappy and emotional undo all the good you achieved by walking out on her. You’ll just make the poor girl more neurotic than she already is.’
‘Why did she ask me to go with her yesterday, then, if she doesn’t want to see me any more?’ Nick followed him into the kitchen, tucking his shirt into the waistband of his trousers.
‘Did she, though?’ Sam glanced at him. ‘She rang Judy, you said, to leave a message for you. Judy of all people. That was a pretty provocative thing to do, wasn’t it? If you ask me it was just to make sure you knew she was defying you – defying both of us – and going back to see Bennet. I think it is time you showed Jo Clifford you are not going to be treated like that, and the best way is to ignore her.’
He fished a loaf out of the bin and began to cut meticulously thin slices, tossing them into the toaster. ‘Have you any marmalade? I haven’t been able to find it.’
Nick sat down at the kitchen table. He reached for the paper and stared at it unseeing. ‘She shouldn’t be alone, though, Sam,’ he said at last.
‘She won’t be,’ Sam replied. ‘I’ll ring her later. Remember I am a doctor as well as a friend. I’ll give her a quick check over, if necessary, and make sure she’s in good spirits and while I’m at it read her the riot act about ignoring our warnings.’
‘And you’ll phone me if she wants me?’
‘She won’t want you, Nicholas.’ Sam looked at him solicitously. ‘Get that into your thick head before you are really hurt.’
Judy stared morosely beyond the reflection of the dimly lit lunch-time bar, through the indigo windows, at the rainwashed Pimlico Road. ‘I never thanked you for giving me such a good write-up,’ she said at last to Pete Leveson, who was sitting opposite her. She turned her back on the window. ‘I’m sure it was thanks to you that the exhibition went so well.’
‘Rubbish. You deserved success.’
Pete was watching her closely, noting the taut lines between her nose and mouth, the dullness of her eyes. ‘It is a bit of an anticlimax, now it’s over, I suppose,’ he said tentatively.
Judy sighed. She picked up her glass, staring round the wine bar with apparent distaste. ‘That’s probably it.’
‘And how is Nick?’ His voice was deliberately casual.
She coloured. ‘He’s in Scotland, on business.’
‘And Jo? Is she still dabbling in the paranormal?’
Judy drank back her Buck’s Fizz, then with a grimace she asked, ‘Does the name Carl Bennet mean anything to you?’
Pete raised an eyebrow. ‘Possibly. Why?’
‘Jo went to see him on Friday afternoon, and the thought that she was going there was enough to make Nick wet his pants. He shot off after her as if she had left a message that she was having tea with the devil himself. Can I have another of these?’
Pete raised his hand to beckon the waitress without taking his eyes off Judy’s face. He gave the order and tossed a five-pound note on the table. ‘Bennet is a hypnotherapist,’ he said. ‘One of the best, I believe. And amongst other things he takes people back into their previous incarnations to treat them for otherwise incurable phobias.’
Judy’s mouth dropped open. ‘You mean that is what Jo is doing? Jesus! She doesn’t believe in that sort of thing, does she?’ She laughed suddenly. ‘She really is loony, isn’t she? My God!’
‘You are not a believer, I take it?’ Pete was looking amused.
‘I am not! No wonder Nick is worried for her sanity. Anyone who believes that kind of thing is certifiable.’ She shivered ostentatiously. ‘And imagine, letting yourself be hypnotised.’ She raised her hands theatrically in front of his face. ‘I have you under my power,’ she intoned. She giggled. ‘No wonder she freaked out when I told her Sam thought she was schizoid.’
Pete was sitting back, still watching her closely. ‘She is doing it for a story, Judy,’ he said tolerantly. ‘I think you should watch what you say, you know.’
Judy laughed again. Her third Buck’s Fizz on an empty stomach was going to her head. ‘I don’t have to in front of you, do I?’ she said archly. ‘Or do you think William Hickey is under the table? But seriously, who needs him when I’m having a drink with one of the most prestigious reporters in Fleet Street.’ She glanced at him provocatively under her eyelashes. ‘You had a thing going with Jo once, didn’t you?’
Pete leaned back in his chair. ‘I don’t believe it was a secret.’
‘And you still like her. Everyone who has had an affair with Jo seems to still like her. What a likeable person she must be!’ she added sarcastically. ‘Well, why don’t you find out exactly what it is she is doing? It would make a good story, surely?’
‘Jo is researching her own story, Judy.’ His voice was carefully neutral.
‘It sure as hell wouldn’t be the same story if you told it, though, would it?’ She ran her finger round the inside of her glass and sucked it pointedly. ‘Yours would be much more … sensational!’
She had huge eyes – light grey, with radiating streaks in the irises, fringed with dark red lashes. Pete contemplated them for a moment as he thought over what she had said. Jo was a friend and yes, he was still fond of her, but the story, if there was a story, would not hurt her. On the contrary, it would counteract that bit in the Mail. In fact, why not sell this one to the Mail? Give the real version of what was going on. Sensational, Judy had said. It was a word Pete could not resist.
Leaning forward, he put his hand over Judy’s and squeezed it gently. ‘Why don’t I get you another of those,’ he said quietly. ‘Then you needn’t lick the glass. Later I’ll drop you back at your place and we’ll talk about this some more.’
Two days later Dorothy Franklyn rang the bell of the flat in Lynwood House. ‘I hope you don’t mind, Sam, dear. I did so want to see you before you went back to Scotland.’ She dropped three green and gold Harrods carrier bags on the floor of the hall then she straightened, looking at him for a moment. Reaching up to kiss him, she rumpled his hair affectionately before walking past him into the living room. ‘When are you going back?’
Sam followed her. ‘I’ve a few things to do in town and Nick said I could use the flat whilst he’s in France, so I’ll be here a week or so I expect.’ He threw himself into a chair and looked up at her. ‘You’re looking very spry, Ma.’
She smiled. ‘Thank you, dear,’ she said. ‘Now tell me, how is Jo?’
Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘What did Nick tell you?’
‘Enough to make me very worried. This reincarnation business, Sam, it is all rubbish, isn’t it? I don’t like the sound of it at all. I didn’t like it when you were working on your thesis under that creepy man Cohen, and I don’t like it any better now. I think it’s dangerous. It’s got nothing whatsoever to do with medicine, or science. And to think that Jo has got involved with mumbo-jumbo like that!’ She shuddered, visibly. ‘Can’t you do something, Sam?’
Sam turned away from her and looked out of the window. In the distance he could see a solid wedge of traffic sitting in the broad sweep of Park Lane. ‘I’m not sure that I can,’ he said slowly. ‘I think Jo has already become too involved to extricate herself even if she wanted