Barbara Erskine 3-Book Collection: Lady of Hay, Time’s Legacy, Sands of Time. Barbara Erskine
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I heard the tapes of Jo’s first regression a lot of things began to make sense.’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘It has forced me to change my views. I believe, now, that maybe, once in a while, if a person – or people – have left things undone, or perhaps made a terrible mistake in one life, it is possible that when they are reborn they are given a second chance.’
‘And you think Jo is being given a second chance?’ Her face was inscrutable as she watched him.
Sam smiled. ‘Jo. Or someone else. Come on, I’ll make you some coffee.’
She followed him to the kitchen. ‘You don’t really believe that?’ she said after a moment. ‘That there is some kind of karmic replay?’ She frowned. ‘That is an Eastern philosophy, Sam, not one that sits easily on Western shoulders.’ She took the spoon out of his hand and began to make the coffee herself. ‘But how is Jo in herself, Sam? Nick was very worried about her. Especially when you rang and said she didn’t want to see him before he went off to France. She did say that?’ She was watching him carefully again.
Sam was searching in the cupboard for some sugar. ‘She was badly shaken by what happened last Friday and a bit confused. I think she felt she had made rather a fool of herself in front of him. It will all have blown over by the time he gets back and they will both be glad they didn’t meet again to prolong the embarrassment. Here, let me put the sugar in for you.’
‘This theory of yours.’ She accepted a cup from him and waved away the sugar hastily. ‘Does Jo believe it too?’
‘Jo is still fighting it.’ Sam frowned. ‘And until she accepts it she is unlikely to accept the wider implication that others must have been reincarnated with her, so that they can work out their destiny together with hers. It has to work like that.’
‘So, you think now that Jo is not the only one.’ Thoughtfully she walked back into the living room, carrying her cup. ‘Do you think Nick is involved?’ She looked at him suddenly. ‘He wasn’t someone in this past life of hers?’
‘Oh yes, Nick is involved.’ Sam’s voice had suddenly lost its lightness.
‘How do you know?’ she asked sharply. She sat down, putting her cup on the coffee table. ‘And you?’ she said after a moment’s hesitation. ‘Are you involved too?’
‘I rather think I am.’ Sam sat down opposite her. ‘Crazy, isn’t it?’ He gave her a disarming smile.
‘And do you have any proof for this theory?’
‘Proof?’ He looked at her in astonishment. ‘How can there be proof? Don’t be obtuse, Ma.’
‘I mean, have you or Nick had this hypnosis thing done to you, to find out?’
He shook his head. ‘Some things one knows. One remembers …’
She shuddered. ‘You’re giving me the creeps, Sam! I have never heard such a load of nonsense in my life. You’ve let your imagination run away with you. I suggest you go back to Scotland and imbue yourself with a good dose of Scots common sense!’ She drank her coffee quickly. ‘Who do you think you are – or were – in her story?’
Sam grinned. ‘Never you mind, Ma. I think we should stop talking about this.’ He stirred his cup energetically. ‘Now, what have you been buying? Are you going to show me?’
She refused to be distracted. ‘Did this Matilda have many men in her life?’
Sam grimaced. ‘At least two. Probably three.’
Dorothy was watching him closely. ‘Were they brothers?’ she asked bluntly.
He laughed. ‘No, they weren’t brothers! Come on. Let me get you some more coffee.’
She pushed her cup away, irritated. ‘I don’t want any more coffee. Have you told Nick about this idea of yours?’
‘No.’
‘Are you going to?’
Sam shrugged. ‘That depends. I think it would be better if baby brother concentrated on his advertising at the moment – and the delectable redhead in Fulham. There is no point in stirring things up needlessly.’
‘I’m glad to hear that.’ Dorothy stood up briskly, trying to ignore her increasing panic. ‘Sam, I have to go. I’ve one or two things to do before I catch my train.’ She reached up to kiss him on the cheek, then she hesitated. ‘But tell me one thing first. You said you thought you had remembered things from the past. That is such a strange, frightening idea. What have you remembered?’
‘It was when I was listening to the tape of Jo’s first regression,’ he replied slowly. ‘I remembered a ring. A ring on the finger of a man.’ He stared at the ceiling over her head. ‘I have remembered that ring for eight hundred years.’
There was silence in the room.
Dorothy licked her lips uneasily. ‘Why?’ she whispered at last.
‘Because he was my guest. And I murdered him.’
It was several days before Jo’s breasts returned to normal. Grimly she worked, typing notes, concentrating on her article about food, using every ounce of willpower she possessed to put Carl Bennet and Matilda de Braose out of her mind. She spring-cleaned the flat, filled the store cupboards, arranged to go back to Suffolk by train on Saturday morning to collect the MG, and less and less often had to remove the soggy tissues from her bra. Sam had told her that Nick was in France and she was glad. Nick was a complication she could not handle at the moment. Dutifully, each night she took the two Mogadon Sam had prescribed, went to bed at eleven and slept heavily. Unpleasantly heavily.
She only saw Sam once more. He checked her over with quiet professionalism, ruffled her hair as if she were a naughty child, drank a cup of coffee and went. She wished he had stayed longer.
When Pete Leveson rang out of the blue she accepted his invitation to dinner with alacrity. He took her to the Gasworks and they sat in the huge, dimly lit reception room idly playing with the ornate chess pieces laid out in front of them whilst they waited for their table. Pete watched her covertly as he sipped his gin and tonic. ‘You’re looking great, Jo. Really great. How is work?’
She smiled. ‘It’s going quite well actually.’
‘How did you get on with Carl Bennet? I hope the introduction was useful.’ He moved a king’s pawn, not taking his eyes from her face and saw her wary look at once.
‘It was very interesting. Thank you, Pete.’
He waited for her to say more as she leaned back, staring idly round the room.
‘Did you find out anything revealing?’ he prompted at last.
She reached for her glass. ‘The woman never turned up that first time.’
‘First time?’ He picked her up at once. ‘So, you’ve been again? Did he use hypnosis on you?’ He moved one of her knights for her with a malicious grin.
‘Three times now.’ Gently she took it back from him and replaced it. She moved a bishop instead.
‘And?’
She laughed uneasily. ‘It appears I have an alter ego. I still don’t believe I am her reincarnation, I can’t bring myself to accept that, but this woman is living a life somewhere there inside my head and it is so real! More real in some ways than the life I’m leading here and now.’
‘Check.’ Pete drained his glass. ‘You always were useless at chess, Jo. Why didn’t you let me help you? We could have made the game last at least ten minutes. Tell me about her, this lady who lives in your head.’
Jo glanced at him. ‘You’re not laughing?’
‘No. I told you. I find it fascinating. I have always hankered after the idea of having a past life. It’s romantic, and comforting. It means if you fuck this one up, you can have another go. It also means