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

No, she brought back a tape of what happened and I heard it last night. " Nick shook his head wearily. "She was in a terrible state—but not in danger as far as I could tell. She never stopped breathing or anything. I stayed the night with her and she spent most of it tossing and turning and pacing up and down the floor. She must have got up at dawn and gone out. She did say she'd go to the library first thing. Maybe she went there to see if she could find any of these people in a history book. "

Sam took off his jacket and threw it on the back of the sofa. Then he sat down and drew the tape recorder toward him. "Right, Nick. May I suggest you return to your titian-haired artist friend and try to apologize for last night's ruined meal? Leave Jo to me. "

"Like hell I will!" Nick glared at him.

"I mean it. Go back to Miss Curzon, Nick. She is your new love, is she not? I went there straight from the airport under the impression that you would be there. She is not pleased with you, little brother. If you value your relationship with her I suggest you make amends as fast as you can. Meanwhile I shall listen to the tape and talk to Jo when she returns. I don't want you here. "

Nick took a deep breath. "Jo asked me to stay. "

"And I am asking you to go. " Sam turned his back on Nick, his shoulders hunched as he searched for the play button on the machine. "She is my patient, Nick. "

Nick hesitated. "You'll call me after you've spoken to her?"

"I'll call you. Better still, do you still have your apartment in Mayfair?"

"You know I do. "

"Give me the key then. I'll stay there for a night or two. And I'll see you there sometime, no doubt. " He switched on the tape and sat back on the sofa thoughtfully as Jo's voice filled the room.

It was four hours before Jo came home. She stopped dead in the doorway, her keys still in her hand, staring at Sam. He had long ago finished playing the tape and was lying on the sofa, his eyes closed, listening to the soft strains of the Concierto de Aranjuez.

"How did you get on?" He did not immediately open his eyes.

Jo sighed. She dropped her shoulder bag on the floor and banged the door behind her. "Where's Nick?"

Sam's eyes narrowed. "He felt he should return to make his peace with Judy. I'm sorry. "

"I see. " Jo's voice dropped. "And he's left you here to pick up the pieces. I suppose I should be grateful he stayed at all last night. I hope he told you I don't need you, Sam. Nothing awful happened. I'm perfectly all right. I did not become incurably insane, nor did I kill anyone as far as I know. " She unbuttoned her jacket wearily. "When did he leave?"

"Soon after I arrived. He was worried about you, Jo. " Sam was watching her closely. "Nick's a nice guy. Even if it is all over between you both, he wouldn't have left you alone, you know that. "

Jo dropped her jacket on a chair and reached for the Scotch bottle on the table by the phone. "That's right. Good old St. Nicholas who never leaves a friend in the lurch. Want one?"

Sam shook his head. He watched as she poured; she did not dilute it.

"Have you heard it?" Her eyes had gone past him to the cassette lying on the coffee table.

"Twice. " Her face was pale and drawn, he noted, her hair tied back into an uncompromising ponytail that showed new sharp angles to her cheekbones and shadows beneath her eyes.

"It all happened, Sam. " She raised the glass to her lips. "I found it so easily. William de Braose, his wife—most books seem to call her Maude—I didn't even know it was the same name as Matilda—their children, the massacre of Abergavenny. It was all there for anyone to read. Not obscure at all. " She swallowed a mouthful of whisky. "I must have read about it somewhere before, but I swear to God I don't remember it. I've never studied Welsh history, but all that detail in my mind! It doesn't seem possible. Christ, Sam! Where did it all come from?"

Sam had not taken his eyes from her face. "Where do you think it came from?"

She shrugged, flinging herself down on the sofa beside him, turning the glass around and around in her fingers.

Sam eyed the length of lightly tanned thigh exposed where her skirt caught on the edge of the cushions. He moved away from her slightly. "Where would you like it to have come from?"

Jo frowned. "That's a loaded question. Yesterday morning I wouldn't have hesitated to answer it. But now... Matilda was so real to me, Sam. She was me. " She turned to face him. "Was it the same in Edinburgh? Did the same thing happen then too?"

He nodded slowly. "You certainly reacted dramatically under regression. A little too dramatically. That was why we decided it would be better if you remembered nothing of what happened afterward. "

Jo jumped to her feet. "You admit it! So you told me to forget it, as if it had never happened. You took it upon yourselves to manipulate my mind! You thought it would be bad for me to know about it, so bang! You wiped it clean like a computer program!" Her eyes were blazing.

Sam smiled placatingly. "Jo, it was for your own good. No one was manipulating you. Nothing sinister happened. It was all taped, just as it was for you yesterday. It's all on the record. "

"But you deliberately destroyed my memory of what happened!" She took a deep breath, trying to control her anger. "Was I the same person? Matilda de Braose?"

"As far as I remember you