Lady of Hay: An enduring classic – gripping, atmospheric and utterly compelling. Barbara Erskine

was frowning.

      ‘Jo. Please don’t just amuse yourself with Sam. I know it must be tempting to try and hurt Nick, but that’s not the way to do it.’ She leaned past Jo as water began to splash off the flowers and onto the floor and turned off the tap. ‘There’s too much rivalry between those two already.’

      ‘Rivalry?’ Jo looked astonished. ‘But they hardly see each other so how could there be?’

      ‘Sam has resented Nick since the day he was born.’ Dorothy absentmindedly picked the petals off a blown rose and threw them into the bin. ‘I used to think it was normal sibling rivalry and he’d grow out of it. But it was more than that. He learned to hide it. He even managed to fool Nick and their father that he no longer felt it, but he never fooled me. As he grew up it didn’t disappear. It hardened. I don’t know why. They are both good-looking, they are both confident and bright. Sam is enormously successful in his own field. There is no reason for him to resent Nick at all. At least, there wasn’t until you came along.’

      Jo stared at her. ‘I had no idea. None at all. I thought they liked each other. That’s awful.’ Wearily she pushed the hair off her face. ‘I’m sure Nick likes Sam. He told me that he used to worship him when they were children, and I sometimes think that secretly he still does. Look at the way he turned to him when he was worried about me.’ She stopped. Had Nick really turned to Sam for help, or was he merely using him cynically to take her off his hands? She closed her eyes unhappily, trying to picture Sam’s face as he kissed her goodnight. It had been a brotherly kiss, no more. Of that she was sure.

      Dorothy had not noticed Jo’s sudden silence. With a deep sigh she swept on after a minute. ‘I used to wonder if it was my fault. There was a six-year gap between them, you know, and we were so thrilled when Nick came along. Elder children sometimes think such funny things, that somehow they weren’t enough, or that they have failed their parents in some way …’

      ‘But Sam is a psychiatrist!’ Jo burst out in spite of herself. ‘Even if he felt that when he was six, he must be well enough read by now to know it wasn’t true. Oh come on, Dorothy, have some coffee. This is all too Freudian for me at this time of night.’ She plugged in the coffee pot and switched it on.

      Dorothy reached into the cupboard and brought out two cups. ‘Are you seeing Sam again?’

      Jo nodded. ‘On Wednesday evening.’

      Dorothy frowned. ‘Jo. Is it over between you and Nick? I mean, really over?’

      Jo turned on her, exasperated. ‘Dorothy stop it! They are grown men, not boys fighting over a toy, for God’s sake! I don’t know if it’s over between me and Nick. Probably, yes. But we are still fond of each other, nothing can change that. Who knows what will happen?’

      After Dorothy had gone Jo sat staring into space for a long time. Then slowly she got up and poured herself a drink. She glanced down at the books and notes piled on the table, but she did not touch them. Instead, restlessly, she began to wander round the room. In front of the huge oval mirror which hung over the fireplace she stopped and stared at herself for a long time. Then solemnly she raised her glass. ‘To you, Matilda, wherever you are,’ she said sadly. ‘I’ll bet you thought men were bastards, too.’

      The answerphone was to the point:

      ‘There is no one in the office at the moment. In a genuine emergency Dr Bennet may be reached on Lymington four seven three two zero. Otherwise please phone again on Monday morning.’

      Jo slammed down the receiver. She eyed the Scotch bottle on the table, then she turned her back on it and went to stand instead on the balcony in the darkness, smelling the sweet honeyed air of the London garden, cleansed by night of the smell of traffic.

      It was a long time before she turned and went back inside. Leaving the French windows open she slotted her cassette back into the machine, and switched it on. Then, turning off the lights, she sat down alone in the dark to listen.

       11

      ‘Is he here?’ Judy was standing in the darkened hallway outside Jo’s door with her hands on her hips. She was wearing a loosely belted white dress and thonged sandals which made her look, Jo thought irrelevantly, like a Greek boy.

      ‘Come in and shut up or you’ll wake the whole house.’ Jo stood back to allow her to enter, as Judy’s furious voice wafted up and down the stairwell outside the flat door. It was barely nine o’clock on Sunday morning.

      The flat was untidy. Cassettes littered the tables and the floor; there were empty glasses lying about and ashtrays full of half-smoked cigarettes. Jo stared round in distaste. Beside the typewriter on the coffee table there was a pile of papers and notes where she had been typing most of the night. Books were stacked on the carpet, and overflowing onto the chairs. She threw open the French windows and took a deep breath of cool morning air. Then she turned to Judy.

      ‘If it’s Nick you’ve lost, I’m afraid you’re out of luck. He’s not here. I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.’ She went through into the kitchen and reached into the fridge. ‘Do you want some coffee?’ she called.

      Judy looked taken aback. ‘He said he was coming back here.’ She followed Jo into the kitchen uncertainly.

      ‘Well he plainly didn’t come.’ Jo reached down a large jug off the cupboard and stuffed the roses from the sink into it. ‘Aren’t these lovely? Nick’s mother brought them up from Hampshire for me yesterday.’

      Judy’s jaw tightened fractionally. ‘I have never met his mother.’

      ‘Oh you will. She is already on your trail. Every girlfriend has to be vetted and approved and then cultivated.’ Jo leaned against the counter and looked Judy straight in the eye. ‘Have you come for a fight? Because if you have, I’m in the right mood. I haven’t slept for two nights, I’ve a foul headache and I am fed up with people coming here to look for Nick Franklyn.’

      ‘Do you still love him?’ Judy tried hard to hold her gaze.

      Jo snorted. ‘What kind of naive question is that? Do you really think I’d tell you if I did?’ Behind her the coffee began to perk. She ignored it. ‘At this moment I wish both Sam and Nick Franklyn at the other end of the earth, and if it makes you happy I will cordially wish you there with them. But I should like to say one thing before you go there. If you decide to make any more inventive little statements to the press about my sanity or lack of it, be very careful what you say, because I shall sue you for slander and then I shall come to your happy love nest in Fulham and knot some of your oh so original and outstandingly beautiful paintings around your pretty little neck.’

      Judy retreated a step. ‘There is no need to be nasty about it. I didn’t know anyone was listening. And I only repeated what Nick said –’

      ‘I am well aware of what Nick said,’ Jo said quietly. She turned and took two mugs out of the cupboard. ‘You’ll have to have your coffee black. I haven’t been out for milk yet.’

      ‘I don’t want any coffee.’ Judy backed out of the kitchen. ‘I don’t want anything from you. I’m not surprised Nick couldn’t wait to get away from here!’ She turned to the front door and dragged it open. Behind them the phone in the living room began to ring. Jo ignored it as she unplugged the coffee pot. ‘Shut the door behind you,’ she called over her shoulder.

      Judy stopped in her tracks. ‘Sam told me you’re schizophrenic,’ she shouted, ‘did you know that? He said that you’ll be locked up one of these days. And they’ll throw away the key!’ She paused as if hoping for a response. When none came she walked out into the hall and slammed the door. Jo could hear her footsteps as she ran down the stairs outside. Moments later she heard the porch door bang.

      Behind her the phone was still ringing. Dazed, Jo moved towards it and picked up the receiver. Her hands were shaking.

      ‘Jo?