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

important, " he said desperately. "There is something you don't know. Something you don't remember—"

"What do you mean, I don't remember? I remember every bit of that session in Edinburgh. Better than Sam does obviously. Oh, I'm sure he doesn't want me to investigate the subject of regression. It's one of his pet theories, isn't it, and he doesn't want me to debunk it in the press. That wouldn't suit him at all! If your brother wants to see me, let him come and see me. I'll deal with him myself. You and I have nothing else to say to each other. Nothing!"

"Then I'd best leave, " said Nick.

Jo closed the door behind him.

That same evening Pete Leveson called with the name of the hypnotherapist: Carl Bennet. Devonshire Place. Jo scribbled it down on the notepad on her desk. She stared at it thoughtfully for a while after she had hung up the phone, then she tore off the page and put it on top of her typewriter.

The night of the party the huge photography studio was already full of people when Jo and Pete arrived. They paused for a moment on the threshold to survey the crowd, the women colorfully glittering, the men in shirt sleeves, the noise already crescendoing wildly to drown the plaintive whine of a lone violin somewhere in the street below.

Someone pressed glasses of champagne into their hands.

Jo saw Nick almost at once, standing in front of Tim's photos, studying them. She recognized the set of his shoulders, the angle of his head. So he was angry. She wondered briefly who with, this time.

"You look wistful, Jo. " Tim Heacham's voice came from immediately behind her. "And it does not suit you. "

She turned to face him. "Wistful? Never. Happy birthday, Tim. I'm afraid I haven't brought you a present. "

"Who has?" He laughed. "But I've got one for you. Judy's not here. "

"Should I care?" She noticed suddenly that Pete was at the other end of the room.

"I don't think you should. " He took the glass from her hand, sipped from it, and gave it back. "You and Nick are bad news for each other at the moment, Jo. You told me so yourself. "

"And I haven't changed my mind. "

"Nor about tomorrow, I hope?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Our visit to Bill Walton. He's going to arrange something special for us. We're going to see Cleopatra and her Antony! I find it all just the smallest bit weird. "

She laughed. "I hope you won't be disappointed this time, Tim. It'll only be as good as the imagination of the people there, you know. "

He held up his hand in mock horror. "No. No, you're not to spoil it for me. I believe. "

"Jo?" The quiet voice behind her made her jump, slopping her champagne onto the floor. "Jo, I want to talk to you. "

She spun around and found that Nick was standing behind them. Quickly she slipped her arm through Tim's. "Nick. I didn't expect to see you. Did you bring Judy? Or Sam? Perhaps Sam is here ready to psych me out. Is he?" Rudely she turned her back on him.

"Tim, will you dance with me?" She dragged her surprised host away, leaving Nick standing by himself looking after her.

"Jo, love, you're shaking. " Tim put his arm around her and pulled her against him. "Come on. It's not like you to show your claws like that. Let's get another drink—most of yours went on the floor, and the rest is down my neck. " He took her hand firmly. Then he made a rueful face. "You're in love with Nick, you know, Jo. The real thing. "

She laughed. "No. No, Tim, you dear old-fashioned thing. I'm not in love with anyone. I'm fancy free and fully available. But you are right about one thing, I need another drink. "

There was no way she would ever admit to herself or to anyone else that she loved Nick.

Behind her Tim glanced toward the door. He frowned. Judy Curzon stood there, dressed in a floor-length white dress embroidered with tiny flame and amber colored beads, her red hair brushed close to her head like a shining cap. Her huge eyes were fixed on Nick's face.

Tim shook his head slowly, then firmly he guided Jo into the most crowded part of the room.

It was the following evening.

"Why did you do it, Judy?" Nick pushed open the door of the studio and slammed it against the wall.

She was standing in front of the easel, once more dressed in her shirt and jeans, a brush in her hand. She did not turn around.

"You know why. How come it's taken you nineteen hours to come and ask?"

"Because, Judy, I have been at work today, and because I wasn't sure if I was going to come here ever again. I didn't realize you were such a bitch. "

"Born and bred. " She gave him a cold smile. "So now you know. I suppose you hate me. "

Her face crumpled suddenly and she flung down the brush. "Oh, Nick, I'm so miserable. "

"And so you should be. Telling Jo in front of all those people what Sam and I had talked about in confidence. Telling her at all was spiteful, but to do it like that, at a party— that was really vicious. "

"She didn't turn a hair, Nick. She's so confident, so conceited. And she didn't believe it anyway. No one did. They all thought it was just me being bitchy. "

She put her arms around his neck and nuzzled him. "Don't be angry. Please. "

He disengaged himself. "I am angry. Very angry indeed. "

"And I suppose you followed her last night?" Her voice was trembling slightly.

"No. She told me to go to hell, as you well know. " He turned away from her, taking off his jacket and throwing it down on a chair. "Is there anything to drink?"

"You know damn well there is. " She retrieved her