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

of her husband, or something?’

      ‘No.’ Sam’s voice was icy. ‘I am not suggesting that. But I think it possible that you were perhaps someone close to her in the past.’

      Nick stared at him. ‘Are you serious?’

      ‘Perfectly.’

      ‘Oh come on! Don’t hand me that crap. Jo might have been persuaded by all this. In fact she actually asked me if I thought I’d lived before –’

      ‘Perhaps she recognised you.’

      ‘No! Oh no, I don’t believe it. I’ve got enough problems in this life, and I’d have thought you’d have more sense than to encourage her. You of all people who saw the danger right from the start!’

      ‘I saw the danger.’ Sam swung his feet up onto the coffee table. ‘But as Jo would not sidestep it, neither can we.’

      Nick glanced at him sharply. ‘What do you mean exactly?’

      Sam had closed his eyes. ‘There is one way of finding out whether you were involved in her past, Nick,’ he said.

      ‘How?’ Nick paused. ‘Oh no! You think I’m going to Bennet to let him try his regression on me?’

      ‘There’s no need.’ Sam took a sip from his glass. ‘I can do it.’

      Nick’s mouth dropped open. ‘Are you suggesting that I let you hypnotise me?’ he said incredulously. ‘If so, you’re out of your skull!’

      ‘Why not? I have a feeling you might be surprised by what we find out.’ Sam smiled gently. ‘Have you never wondered why Jo and you were so instantly attracted when you first met? Could it not have been that you were lovers once before? Is it not possible that the Richard she loved so much was your alter ego, eight hundred years ago?’ He was watching Nick’s expression closely. ‘It might be fun to find out,’ he went on persuasively. ‘It couldn’t do any harm, and it might explain a lot of your ambivalence towards Jo now.’

      Nick sat down on the edge of a table, one foot on the carpet, the other swinging slowly back and forth. ‘I don’t believe I’m hearing this. You actually think I am the reincarnation of Richard de Clare?’

      Sam shrugged. ‘When dealing with anything like this, Nick, I keep an open mind. I think for Jo’s sake you ought to as well. You owe it to her, if only to find out why you attacked her.’ His eyes narrowed.

      ‘But why,’ Nick said slowly, ‘if I was Richard de Clare, would I be so jealous of him?’

      Sam smiled. ‘Good question. Shall we find out?’

      ‘You are serious?’

      ‘Perfectly. If you don’t regress, fair enough. Not everyone does by any means. At least we will have tried. If you do, it will be interesting.’

      ‘And you expect me to trust you!’ Nick stared at him suspiciously. ‘After what happened to Jo?’

      ‘What happened to Jo?’ Sam’s voice was hard. ‘She is a deep-trance subject, Nick, you are not. The experience would not be the same for you.’

      ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Nick said coolly. ‘There are one or two things you never explained, Sam.’ His knuckles tightened on his glass. ‘Like why it was necessary for Jo to take off her clothes the other night, when you regressed her.’

      Sam raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that what she said happened?’

      ‘That is what she said.’ Nick was watching him closely.

      Sam smiled. ‘She experiences the trances so vividly she finds it hard to differentiate between that state and reality, at least for a time, as I told you.’

      ‘It was reality, Sam, that I found her clothes that night, hidden in the living room –’

      ‘Perhaps she put them there before I came.’ Sam crossed one knee over the other, his whole body relaxed. ‘I’m not sure what you are implying, Nicholas, but may I remind you that it is you who raped Jo, not I. It is you who needs help. I think you need to try hypnosis.’

      Still uncertain, Nick hesitated. ‘I suppose it would do no harm to try. And I’d rather you did it than Bennet,’ he said at last, reluctantly. ‘But I hate the idea. And I doubt if it would work on me, anyway.’

      ‘Why don’t we try?’ Sam sat up slowly. ‘In fact, why don’t we have a go now? You’re worried. You’re tired. If nothing else, I can help you to relax.’ He smiled. ‘Come and sit down over here, little brother. That’s right, facing the window. Now. Relax. Put the glass down, man. You’re clutching it like a lifebelt! Now, let’s see whether you can do one or two little experiments for me. We’ll start with the lamp.’ Sam leaned forward and switched on the Anglepoise at Nick’s elbow. ‘No, don’t look at the light. I want you to look past it, into the corner of the room.’

      Nick laughed suddenly. ‘It’s like having the “fluence” put on you by someone at school. Why don’t you use a watch and chain?’

      ‘It may have escaped your notice, Nicholas, but I don’t wear a watch and chain.’ Sam moved silently from his chair and gently put his thumb and forefinger on Nick’s eyelids. ‘Now, look towards the lamp again and start counting slowly backwards from one hundred.’

      Several minutes later Sam stood up. He was smiling. He walked towards the window and threw it up, staring out for a minute up the narrow street opposite towards the traffic in Park Lane. Then he turned towards Nick, who was lying back in his chair, his eyes closed.

      ‘Comfortable, little brother?’ he said softly. ‘No, don’t try and answer me. You can’t. I don’t want you to speak at all. I want you to listen.’

       20

      Janet knocked on Jo’s door as she was undressing late that night. Pushing it open, she hovered for a moment, staring at Jo who, wearing only her bra and briefs, was sitting on the edge of her bed.

      ‘God, I’m sorry! I didn’t think – shall I come back?’ Flustered, Janet backed away. ‘I brought us some cocoa. I thought you might like to chat a bit. Old Welsh custom!’

      Jo laughed. ‘Come in.’ She reached for her thin silk dressing-gown hastily and drew it round her.

      Janet sat down on the stool in front of the kidney-shaped dressing table, manoeuvring her heavy body with difficulty. ‘Jo, I wanted to apologise for David. He can be a bit belligerent at times. He shouldn’t have given you the third degree like that. He tends to think all Welsh history is his special province and he almost resents anyone else who is interested in it, besides which, as you can’t have failed to gather, he is a rabid nationalist –’

      ‘Quite apart from thinking that I am completely mad anyway.’ Jo smiled wearily. ‘He could be right at that. I’m glad he didn’t order me out of your house. I really did want to know about Matilda, though – his Moll Walbee.’ She reached for the mug and sipped it slowly. ‘It was so odd to hear him talk about her with such knowledge. He knew so much more about her than I do, and yet at the same time, he didn’t know her at all.’

      Janet gave a rueful laugh. ‘That could apply to David on a lot of subjects.’ She was silent a moment, watching as Jo sipped again from her mug. The pale blue silk of Jo’s sleeve had slipped back to her elbow, showing clearly the livid bruising round her wrist and the long curved gash on her arm. ‘Jo,’ she said tentatively. ‘I couldn’t help noticing – the bruises and that awful cut –’ She coloured slightly. ‘Tell me if it’s none of my business, but well … you sounded in such a state when you rang this morning.’ She groaned slightly, her hand to her back. ‘There is more to this sudden trip than just research, isn’t there?’

      Jo set down the mug and pulled her sash more tightly around