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

grinned at her, picking up her wrist.

      ‘Do you make a habit of this sort of thing, my dear?’ he asked quietly.

      Jo shook her head. ‘It’s never happened before. I’m beginning to feel such a fraud. It’s just the storm, I’m sure. They always make me feel strung up and headachy.’

      ‘And you’re not pregnant as far as you know?’ He smiled.

      ‘Certainly not! And before you ask I’ve given up smoking. Nearly.’

      ‘There’s something wrong with your throat?’

      She moved away from him slightly on the sofa. ‘A bit painful, that’s all. I expect I’m getting a cold.’

      ‘Humph.’ The doctor bent to open his bag. He withdrew a wooden spatula. ‘Open up. Let’s have a look, shall we?’

      Her throat was agony. Not sore. Not raw, but bruised and aching. Without registering any emotion at all the doctor put down the spatula and reached for a thermometer. When it was in her mouth he brought his hands up gently to her neck and, brushing aside her hair, he felt beneath her ears and under her chin with cool impersonal fingers.

      Jo could feel her hands shaking. ‘What is it?’ she said as soon as she could speak.

      He held the thermometer up to the green-shaded table lamp and squinted viciously as he tried to see the mercury. ‘I’m always telling Celia to get some proper lights in this damn room. In the evening you can’t tell your gin from the goldfish water. It is thirty-seven which is exactly what it ought to be. Your pulse is a bit above average for a Sunday afternoon, even in a storm, though. Let’s try some blood pressure shall we?’

      ‘But my throat?’ Jo said. ‘What’s wrong with my throat?’

      ‘Nothing that I can see.’ He was rummaging in his case. ‘Where does it hurt?’

      ‘It aches. Here.’ She raised her hand to her neck while her eyes focused on the little pump in his hand as he inflated the cuff around her arm.

      It was all coming back to her. She had been in the conservatory with Nick. He had stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders, then slowly he – or somebody – had slid them up around her throat and begun to squeeze … She could remember what happened quite clearly now. It was Nick. It had to have been Nick. No one else was there. Nick had tried to kill her! She felt sick. Nick wouldn’t hurt her. It wasn’t possible. It must have all been some hideous nightmare. She swallowed painfully. But it was too real for a nightmare.

      She realised suddenly that the doctor was watching her face and turned away sharply. ‘Is it high?’ she asked as he folded away his equipment.

      ‘A little, perhaps. Nothing to get excited about.’ He paused. ‘Something is wrong, my dear, isn’t it? You look worried. Is there something you ought to be telling me?’

      She shook her head. ‘Nothing, Dr Graham. Except that perhaps I should own up to a few late nights, working. I expect that could make me feel a bit odd, couldn’t it?’

      He frowned. ‘I expect it could.’ He waited as though he expected her to say more. When she didn’t he went on, ‘I can’t explain the throat. Perhaps you’re getting one of these summer viruses. Gargle. That will help, and I suggest you take it easy for a bit. Spend a few days here, perhaps.’ Smiling, he stood up. ‘Not that Celia is my idea of a peaceful companion, but this is a good house to rest in. It’s a happy house. Better than London, I’ll be bound. If it happens again, go and see your own doctor.’

      ‘Thank you.’ Pushing herself up, Jo managed to stand. Outside the window there was another pale flicker of lightning. ‘I’m sorry my grandmother called you out in this.’

      He laughed as he picked up his case. ‘If she hadn’t I’d have slept through it and kicked myself for not closing the vents in the greenhouse, so she did me a favour! Now, remember what I said. Take it easy for a bit. And do see your own doctor if you go on feeling at all unwell …’ He gave her a piercing glance, then with a nod he turned to the door.

      As soon as he had stepped out into the hall Jo turned to the sideboard. The lamp shed a green, muted light behind it towards the mirror, and tipping the shade violently so that the naked light of the bulb shone onto her face Jo stood on tiptoe, peering at the glass. Her reflection was white and stark, her eyes shadowed and huge in the uncompromising light. Leaning forward she held her hair up away from her neck and peered at it. Her skin looked normal. There were no marks there.

      ‘Jo! You’re burning the silk on that shade!’ Ceecliff’s cry made her jump. Hastily she put it straight, noticing guiltily the brown mark already showing on the lining. She could smell the scorched fabric.

      ‘What on earth were you doing?’

      ‘Just looking at my throat.’ Jo glanced behind her grandmother. ‘Where is Nick?’

      ‘He’s holding an umbrella over David while he gets in the car. I suppose you won’t do what David suggests and stay here for a few days?’

      Jo sighed. ‘You know I can’t. I’m too busy.’

      ‘Then you’ll have some tea before you let Nick drive you home –’

      ‘No!’

      Ceecliff stared at her in astonishment. ‘Jo dear –’

      ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so abrupt.’ Jo swallowed. ‘It’s just that I don’t want Nick to drive me.’

      ‘Well you can’t drive yourself, Joey. David was quite clear about that.’ Ceecliff’s tone was surprisingly firm. ‘You stay here or you go with Nick.’

      Jo glanced towards the door. Her lips had gone dry. She took a deep breath. ‘Who was the man in here as I came round?’

      Ceecliff had turned away, patting her injured lampshade with a proprietorial hand. ‘There was no one else in here, Jo. Only Nick and I.’

      Jo crossed to the door, steadying herself with her hand on the back of a chair. Swiftly she closed it. Leaning against it she looked at Ceecliff.

      ‘Someone tried to strangle me this afternoon.’

      Her grandmother pursed her lips. ‘Jo, dear –’

      ‘I am not imagining it. Out there in the conservatory. Nick was massaging my shoulders. Then –’ She shrugged wildly. ‘Someone tried to kill me!’

      ‘Nick was the only person there, Jo.’ Ceecliff came towards her slowly and put her hands on Jo’s arms. ‘Are you accusing Nick?’ She was scandalised.

      ‘No, of course not.’ Jo’s voice had fallen to a whisper.

      ‘Did you tell David all this?’

      ‘I said my neck hurt.’ Jo shook her head.

      ‘I think he would have been able to tell, Jo, if anyone had tried to kill you. There would have been bruises on your throat for one thing.’ Ceecliff moved towards the sofa and sat down on the edge of it. ‘I think Nick was right to be worried about this hypnosis, Jo. You are too susceptible –’

      Jo flung herself away from the door. ‘This has nothing to do with the hypnosis! I wasn’t imagining it! You would know if someone had tried to kill you!’ She put her hands to her throat. ‘There was someone else there. Someone else, Ceecliff. It can’t have been Nick. He wouldn’t … He wouldn’t want to kill me. Besides, there was someone else in the room when I woke up. You must have seen him. You must! For God’s sake, he was standing right behind Nick!’

      ‘Joey, there was no one there,’ Ceecliff said gently. ‘If there had been, I would have seen him.’

      ‘You think I’m imagining it?’

      ‘I think you’re tired, emotionally upset, and what we as children used to call thunder-strung.’ Ceecliff smiled.

      She