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

"For God's sake, don't do it. It's dangerous. Far more dangerous than you or Bennet realize. Your life could be in danger, Jo. " His voice was harsh.

She smiled. "Now, that is melodramatic. Are you suggesting I could be locked in the past forever?" She reached up and tugged his hair playfully. "You idiot, it doesn't work that way. People always wake up in the end. "

"Do they?" He lay back on the pillow. "Just make sure you've got your facts right, Jo. I know it's your proud boast that you always do, but just this once you could be wrong. "

Chapter 9

Early the next morning Sam paid off the taxi and stood for a moment on the pavement staring around him. Judy's address was scribbled on a scrap of paper in his hand.

He looked up at the house, then, slinging his suitcase over his shoulder, he ran easily up the long flights of steps until he reached the shadowy landing at the top of the stairs. It was some time before the door opened to his ring.

Judy stared at the rangy figure in the rumpled cord jacket and her eyes hardened. "What do you want?"

"Hello there. " He grinned at her easily. "I'm Sam Franklyn. "

"I guessed that. So—what do you want?" Her tone was icy. With paintstained fingers she pushed back the scarf that covered her hair.

"May I come in?"

"Please yourself. " She turned away and walked back into the studio. After picking up a rag, she began to scrub at her fingertips with some turpentine. "What have you come here for?" she asked after a minute. She did not bother to turn around.

Sam dropped his case in the corner and closed the door. "I rather hoped Nick would be here, " he said mildly, "but I can see I've goofed. Where is he, do you know?"

"I don't. " She flung down the rag. "But I can guess. He stood me up last night. " She folded her arms and turned to face him. He could see now in the harsh revealing light of the studio windows that her eyes were red and puffy. There was a streak of viridian across her forehead.

"Any chance of some coffee while you tell me about it?" Sam said gently. "I've come straight from Heathrow and I'm parched. "

"Help yourself. But don't expect me to make polite conversation, least of all about Nick. I'm busy. " She turned her back on him again.

Sam frowned. He watched her for a moment as she picked up a brush and attacked the canvas in front of her. Every muscle in her body was tense, the angle of her shoulders set and defensive beneath the faded green denim of her smock.

"Do you know, " she said suddenly, "I hate her. I have never actually hated anyone like that before. "

Sam watched her thoughtfully. "It sounds pretty normal to me, " he said evenly. "Do I gather we are talking about Jo?"

"Why don't you make me some coffee too, while you're at it, " she returned sharply, "and let's not discuss Jo. " Once again she pushed back the scarf that covered her hair.

Sam gave a small grimace. He found his way across to the kitchen by instinct and pushed open the door, then he stopped and surveyed the scene. There was broken glass all over the floor. Two saucepans of food had been left upside down in the sink. Staring down at the mess, he sniffed cautiously. One had contained asparagus soup, the other some kind of goulash. Sam frowned. In the pail below the sink were two china plates with the salad that had been on them. She had hurled out what appeared to him to have been a cordon bleu meal, complete with china.

Glancing over his shoulder, he watched for a moment in silence as she worked, then he began to hunt for some coffee and set the kettle on the gas.

"What do you call that picture?" he asked several minutes later when he handed her a mug.

She took it without looking at him. "What you mean is, what the hell is it?" she said slowly. She stepped closer to the painting, eyes narrowed, and added a small touch of red to the swirl of colors. "I had better not tell you. You'd have me taken away in a straitjacket. " She gave a taut smile. "You're the psychiatrist. Why don't you tell me what it means?" She rubbed at the canvas with her little finger and stared thoughtfully at the smear of red it left on her skin. Then she swung around to face him again. "On second thought, why don't you drink your coffee and get out of here?"

Sam grinned. "I'm on my way. "

"Good. " She paused. "I told her, you know. In front of the whole bloody world. "

"Told her what?" Sam was still studying the canvas.

"What Nick said to you on the phone. That she would crack if she were hypnotized again. That she is more or less out of her mind. " She threw down the brush and crossed to the untidy desk by the window. After pulling open a drawer, she extracted a newspaper clipping. "This was in yesterday's Mail. "

Sam took it. He read the paragraph, his face impassive, then he handed it back.

"You certainly made a good job of that bit of scandal. "

Judy smiled. She turned back to her canvas. "So hadn't you better rush over to Cornwall Gardens and see if Nick can spare you one of her hands to hold?"

"That's what I've come for. " Sam drank the last of his coffee, then put down his empty mug. "I take it, " he added carefully, "that you think that Nick spent last night with her. "

"Unless he got run over and is in the mortuary. "

"And you were expecting him here to dinner. "

"As you plainly saw. "

"I