Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (reading an ebook TXT) 📕

Jo looked around the small neat room with its deep armchairs with spotless antimacassars. She could smell the lamb cooking.

"Back in Hay. What is so urgent, Bet?"

"Jo, love, I'm not sure how to say this, but I had lunch with Nick on Wednesday. We talked quite a bit. Jo, listen, I think he's going to try to come after you. I know this sounds crazy, but I think he's dangerous. I think he's out of his mind. He really hates you, Jo. God knows what's got into him, but I think he is capable of trying to kill you!"

There was a moment's silence, then Bet's voice rang out again in the quiet room. "Jo? Jo, are you there? Did you hear what I said?"

"I heard, " Jo said softly.

"And?"

"And I hope you're wrong. " Jo's voice was bleak. "I hope to God you're wrong.... "

In London Judy Curzon was staring curiously around the small neat living room of the house in Gloucester Avenue. Everything was immaculately in place. The white sofa with two geometrically designed black-and-white cushions, the only furniture besides a white table and a phalanx of bookshelves down one wall, holding, besides hundreds of books, a stereo system, video recorder and television, and a rank of indexed filing boxes.

"A drink, Judy?" Pete Leveson followed her into the room after closing the front door.

"Thank you. " She was still looking around with interest.

Noticing, he gave a rueful smile. "This is all the furniture left after my first two wives cleaned me out. It's all one needs. Something to sit on, books, and music. "

She took the glass from him. "My philosophy too. Only I make my guests sit on hard stools, or the floor. " She gingerly lowered herself onto the sofa. "Are you sure you don't mind my coming over?"

Pete walked over to the window. He threw up the lower sash and sat down on the white-painted window seat. "I'm glad you did. I needed some company. So, what's new in Fulham?"

"I'm preparing for a new exhibition. "

"So soon?" He put his foot up on the seat and clasped his hands around his knee.

"Not so clever really. I had nearly enough material for two exhibitions anyway. This one is exciting though. It's going to be in Paris. But I didn't come to talk about that. Pete, I need your help. "

"You don't need my help, Judy. But you'll have it, for what it's worth. I enjoyed writing up the last one, and the thought of a trip to Paris to write about the next is not entirely obnoxious to me. " He grinned. "I might even buy a picture myself this time. "

"I'm not talking about the exhibition!" Brushing aside his intended compliment, she jumped up restlessly and went to stand in front of his bookcase, staring up at the lines of titles. "I want you to... that is... " She turned awkwardly toward him. "You know Tim Heacham, don't you?"

Pete concealed a smile in his hand. "Of course. "

"Did you know he was in love with Jo Clifford?"

"I had heard rumors to that effect, yes. "

"He doesn't just fancy her, Pete. It is something much, much more.... " For a moment Pete saw an almost painful sympathy in her eyes and he looked at her with renewed interest. Her short red hair was becomingly tousled, her dark-green shirt and her jeans well cut and for once paint-free. She exuded an air of gamine charm that did not quite conceal the determination which directed all her movements. His eyes rested on her broad, almost masculine hands with their neatly trimmed nails. Scarlet talons were more to his taste, but she certainly had something, some underlying current of sexuality that appealed to him enormously. He stood up and reached for her glass. "Let me get you another, " he said gently. "I take it you feel that I can help their romance along somehow. "

She narrowed her eyes. "Yes. And for a start you can tell the world what a mess Nick has made of his business affairs. "

Pete's mouth fell open. "Hang on a minute. I had the impression that you were rather keen on Nick yourself. "

The green eyes clouded. "No longer. The reason he has been ignoring the office more and more is because he has been hypnotized too, like Jo. And in his previous existence he knew her before. And he hated her enough to kill her. " She took the refilled glass from him and gave him a knowing smile. "Surely you could use material like that, Pete, couldn't you?"

Jo stood for several minutes after she had hung up the telephone, staring out of the window at the roof of the tower of Hay Church, almost hidden among the trees. She was numb.

"Finished, then, dear?" Margiad Griffiths popped her head around the door. "Supper will be on the table in fifteen minutes, if you were going to have a quick bath. "

Jo looked blankly at the bathrobe and sponge bag she had put down on one of the chairs. Slowly she picked them up. "I'll pay you for the call, " she said huskily.

"Bad news, was it, dear?" Mrs. Griffiths came into the room properly. "That white, you are. Here. " She gave a conspiratorial smile. "Why don't I give you a glass of sherry. That'll perk you up a bit, so it will. You can take it upstairs with you. "

Gratefully Jo took the tiny thistle crystal glass of sweet sherry and made her way back upstairs. The bedroom door was still shut. She locked herself in the bathroom and, drawing the shower curtain around the bath, turned on the tepid water before she pulled off her mud-stained jeans and blouse and stepped under the shower attachment, letting the water stream over her face and breasts, soaking her hair until it turned to a jet curtain of wet silk on her back.

Supper was ten minutes late and Margiad