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

you get home. I am scheduling it for the December issue, so I'll want it by the sixteenth at the latest. Obviously I don't want you to make it too summery—but you needn't waffle on about Father

Christmas on the farm. I've enough references to seasonal spirit in the rest of the issue. I'm trusting you, Jo. Normally I'd get one of our own feature writers on this. "

Jo took the file. "Don't worry, Bet. You've made me feel so guilty already that I won't let you down. I promise. I wouldn't mind a trip up north actually. "

"He's moved, I told you. But you'll find all the details in there. " She looked at her watch. "God, I've got a meeting downstairs in three minutes. Good luck with the article. "

Jo didn't open the file until she was home. She threw herself down on the sofa and, kicking off her sandals, put her feet on the coffee table before taking out Ben Clements's photo and studying it closely. As Bet had said, he looked a nice old boy.

She tipped the contents of the file out onto her lap and looked through it. His address and phone number were on a card by themselves, the last item to come to hand. Jo picked up the card and looked at it, then she put it down. For a moment she stared into space, then slowly she began to laugh. "You are seven kinds of no-good clever scheming cow, Bet Gunning, " she said out loud to the empty room. "But it won't change my mind!"

The card read:

Pen y Garth

Mynydd Near Brecon

The headline in the morning paper in huge black letters was bad king john good for Jo. Judy stared at it in stunned silence as she stood on the curb, not seeing the traffic as it streamed within inches of her along the Fulham Road. Pete had done it! He had printed what she had told him, word for word!

Advertising executive Nick Franklyn can comfort himself after his latest big disappointment in the world of business. In the wake of live-in girl friend Jo Clifford's revelations about her previous life as a medieval femme fatale, Nick, not to be outdone, had himself hypnotized by his psychiatrist brother. Imagine his surprise when he found out that in his previous life he had been, not Jo's lover, nor her husband, but her king!

Judy folded the paper abruptly and shoved it in the litter bin on the lamppost beside her. She felt slightly sick. Turning, she began to walk slowly up the road, pushing her hands deep into the pockets of her peacock-blue jeans. Pete had promised he would not tell anyone who had given him the story, but would he keep his word? She bit her lip nervously. Nick was in the States, but someone was bound to tell him about the article. Jo would see it too. And Sam. She shivered.

Sam had spent the rest of the night he had been arrested in jail. He had appeared before the magistrates on Wednesday morning contrite and very sober, accompanied by his impeccable character and his professional qualifications, to say nothing of Nick's solicitor, Alistair Laver. The outcome had been a heavy fine, and he was bound over to keep the peace. When he rang Judy later to apologize she hung up on him.

She bought a pint of milk and some bread and cheese, and on second thoughts another copy of the paper, then she made her way back to the studio.

Pete answered on the second ring. "Hi! Have you seen the article?"

Judy grimaced. "It's a bit sensationalized, isn't it?"

Pete laughed. "I thought you wanted it shouted from the rooftops. That was the biggest print I could persuade the editor to use without being considered vulgar! Has the victim screamed yet?"

"Pete! You're looking for trouble!"

"No. No. I was just doing a lady a favor. "

Judy sighed. "I almost wish I hadn't told you now. It seems a cheap thing to do. Nick's in the States. Jo is the only one who is likely to see it. "

Pete chuckled. "And the redoubtable Ms. Gunning. I can't wait for her to spot it. I tell you what, sweetie. Why don't you and I have lunch? We'll split a bottle of bubbly and plan your next revelation. At this rate I shall have to pay you a retainer. What do you say? Joe Allen's at one?"

"Okay. Thanks, Pete, I'd like that. " She hesitated suddenly. "But supposing someone sees us? They might guess it was me that told you!"

"Deny it. " Pete was smiling to himself as he stirred milk into his cereal. "Deny everything, Judy. I always do. I'll see you at one o'clock!"

Bet rang Jo at four minutes past eight. "Have you seen what that unprincipled bastard Pete Leveson has done now?"

Jo sat down, pulling the phone onto her knee. "That's a good one, coming from you, Bet! What has he done?"

"He's printed the sequel to your story. "

Jo froze. "The sequel?"

"About Nick. Dear God! No wonder I thought there was something odd about him last time I saw him. And to think I nearly—" She shut up abruptly.

"You nearly what, Bet?" Jo said sharply.

"Nothing, Sweetie. " Bet swiftly turned on the charm. "Jo, love, you must have known all this for ages. You might have told me! It explains his crazy behavior, for God's sake. And it makes the story so much more exciting. And to have had a declaration of love from him too! You must go through with it, Jo. You must! You do see that, don't you?"

"Bet—" The muscles in her stomach were clenching nervously as Jo sat forward on the edge of her seat. "What exactly does Pete say?"

"Listen. I'll read it to you. " Bet read the article aloud in a fast monotone. She paused expectantly when she had finished. "Well?"

For a moment Jo said nothing. Her hands were sweating. She could feel the receiver slipping as