Barbara Erskine 3-Book Collection: Lady of Hay, Time’s Legacy, Sands of Time. Barbara Erskine

      ‘I … I don’t know.’ She pushed her hair off her face with both hands. ‘I feel so strange. I can’t think straight …’ Through the blind she could see horizontal lines of brightness shimmering slightly, casting shadows on the cool olive of the walls around her. The room smelled of antiseptic. It was claustrophobically small.

      Behind Nick the door opened quietly and Sarah peered in. She smiled with obvious relief as she saw Jo sitting up. ‘How are you feeling?’

      ‘A bit peculiar.’ Jo managed to grin.

      ‘Carl is very sorry but he is involved with his afternoon appointment now. He was wondering if you could both come back on Wednesday morning. It would probably be better anyway to leave things for a couple of days to see how you are feeling.’

      Jo frowned. ‘Afternoon appointment? I don’t understand. What time is it?’

      ‘It’s teatime, Jo.’ Nick stood up. ‘You’ve been asleep for several hours. She’ll be here on Wednesday,’ he said quietly, ‘I’ll see to that.’

      ‘What do you mean several hours?’ Jo repeated in bewilderment as he closed the door behind Sarah and turned back to her. ‘What’s happened? Did I faint again?’

      ‘You got a bit upset and Dr Bennet had to give you a shot of valium to calm you down, that’s all.’

      ‘Upset? Why was I upset?’

      Nick gave the ghost of a grin. ‘I’m hardly going to tell you that, Jo. The idea was that you forget everything that has been worrying you. If the suggestion has worked, then it would be madness for me to tell you what happened, wouldn’t it?’

      ‘Try Judy Curzon’s flat again, May.’ Jim Greerson ran his fingers through his thinning hair as he held down the intercom switch.

      ‘Just did, Jim. And Jo’s. Shall I try Mrs Franklyn in Hampshire?’

      ‘No, don’t bother.’ Jim slumped back in his chair and spun it to face the window. His broad, pleasant face was haggard as he lifted the letter off the desk next to him and read it for the sixth time.

      ‘Get here, Nick, old son,’ he murmured out loud. ‘If you want a business to come back to, stop chasing women, my friend, and get here soon.’

      It was ten past five before Nick finally paid off the taxi and followed Jo upstairs to her flat. The phone was ringing as she opened the door.

      ‘It’s for you.’ She handed him the receiver with a weary grin. ‘The office.’

      She walked as always first to the French doors and threw them open, smelling the rich scent from the flowers on her balcony. Looking left and right up and down the terrace of buildings, it was strange how few of the balconies had flowers. In Germany or Switzerland they would all be a riot of tumbling colour, but here in London hers stood out almost alone with its tubs and pots of pinks and geraniums, the honeysuckle, and the exotic passion flower which clambered around the stone balustrade. She smiled faintly. Nick had always teased her that she must be a country girl at heart because of her love of flowers.

      She leaned on the balustrade. Her mind felt drugged. She could not focus her thoughts. Carl Bennet’s face, and Sarah’s, floated in her head, but there were others there too she could not grasp. Someone had talked about a horse being lame … she could remember being very angry about that … and then, later, there had been a hand with a ring on the finger, a hand with filthy nails …

      ‘That was Jim.’ Nick came out onto the balcony behind her. ‘It appears Desco have turned down our presentation out of hand and are threatening to go over to the opposition. Goddamn it to hell! That was going to be one of the best promotions we’ve planned. I’ve only been away from the office ten days – lord knows how they’ve managed to get it wrong!’ He made an effort at a grin. ‘Will you be OK on your own for a bit, Jo? I hate to leave you, but I think I’ve got to get over there to stop Jim cutting his throat!’

      She nodded. ‘Nick, I’m sorry. It’s my fault – you’d have gone back last week if it wasn’t for me –’

      ‘Jo – I should be able to leave them.’ He took a deep breath, trying to steady his anger. ‘Look, I’ll be back for a late supper. We’ll talk then. Don’t go out. Rest till I get back and we’ll make do with a tin of soup or something.’

      She followed him to the door and closed it behind him. She felt tired and hot and sticky and slightly sick, and she didn’t want him to go.

      She was lying on the sofa dressed only in her towelling bathrobe with her eyes closed after a long cool bath when she remembered what had happened. One minute she was gazing vaguely across the room, wondering whether she had the energy to fetch herself a cup of coffee, the next she sat bolt upright. It was as if a curtain had lifted. As clearly as if he were speaking in the room she heard Carl Bennet’s voice, ‘You will remember that you had a few strange, but unimportant dreams …’

      ‘Gloucester …’ she murmured. ‘But it wasn’t a dream. It was at Gloucester that I met John …’

      It was nearly ten by the time Nick got back from Berkeley Street and he was in a foul temper. ‘Jim has cocked the whole thing up,’ he said, flinging himself down in a chair. He looked exhausted. ‘I doubt if I can sort things out. If I can’t I’m going to have to go to the States and stay there till I get another account as big as Desco, otherwise it’s the end of Franklyn-Greerson. Jim just doesn’t have a clue when it comes to fighting the big boys. He’s completely naive!’ He closed his eyes wearily.

      ‘But I thought Mike Desmond was a friend of yours.’ Jo sat down beside him.

      Nick shrugged. ‘This is business, not friendship. But I’ll have a damn good go at getting it back before I give up entirely, you can be sure of that.’ He held out his hand to Jo. ‘Hell, I’m sorry, you don’t want to hear about all this. How are you feeling? Has the headache gone?’

      ‘Your post-hypnotic suggestion didn’t work,’ she replied bleakly. ‘I’ve remembered everything. Going to Gloucester, meeting Prince John – seeing Richard again.’

      Nick swore softly. ‘We’ll have to try again, that’s all.’ He shook his head. ‘I wonder if Sam is right and Bennet doesn’t have the experience to cope.’

      ‘I don’t think it’s that. I think it’s probably that in my heart I don’t really want to give up. I want to know what happens. Anyway, come on,’ she released Nick’s hand, ‘you must be starving and I’ve defrosted some lamb cutlets. Is that a bottle of wine you brought in with you? If not, there are several in the wine rack. I’ve been stocking up.’

      He drew the cork and poured two glasses for them while Jo put the cutlets on the grill pan and ground black pepper over them. She was beginning to feel hungry at last.

      Nick handed her a glass. ‘It’s not getting any time to breathe, my need is too great at the moment!’ He sighed. ‘Well, what do we do about you now?’

      ‘Nothing. I’ll handle it alone.’

      ‘Handle it alone? You were screaming so loud that people came running from all over the building. Bennet had to give you a shot to calm you down, for God’s sake! How can you handle it alone?’

      Jo frowned. ‘It was only finding those hands like that, knowing suddenly that the Welsh were there, even in the King’s encampment. I hadn’t realised how afraid I’d been when we were in Wales – always wondering when their revenge would start. I felt safe at last at Gloucester and I was alone in that tent, dreaming about Richard when suddenly, out of the night, in the middle of the King of England’s men, they were there. They could have cut my throat!’ She shuddered as she began slicing some tomatoes, sprinkling them with a few dried basil leaves before setting them beside the cutlets to cook. She stared down at the knife in her hand and dropped it hastily into the sink.

      ‘Whose hands were they?’ Nick asked quietly. ‘Do you know?’

      She