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

Jo took a deep breath. ‘Can you tell by looking at me?’

He stared at her, holding her gaze for a while, until she dropped her eyes and looked away.

‘I think you have been on this earth before, yes.’

She felt her skin creep. ‘How can you tell?’

He shrugged. ‘I might be wrong. It is an instinct I have developed after years of studying the subject.’ He frowned. ‘I have a suspicion that the patient you are about to meet may not have done so in fact,’ he said with a grimace. ‘I can’t promise anything from her that will necessarily help you with your article. I have had one preliminary interview with the lady – we shall just call her Adele. She is a good hypnotic subject. She has a very strong and illogical fear of water which can be explained by nothing that she can remember. I shall try to regress her and it may be that we need go no further than her own childhood to discover the cause.’ He walked thoughtfully back to his desk, glancing at his watch. ‘She is late, I fear. Sarah!’ He called towards the side room from where they could hear the sound of a typewriter. It stopped and Sarah appeared in the doorway. ‘Ring Mrs Noble and make sure she has remembered her appointment.’

He scowled at the blotter on his desk, tracing the ornate gold tooling of the leather with a neatly manicured finger. ‘This lady is both vague and a hysteric,’ he said almost to himself. ‘It would not entirely surprise me if she did not turn up.’ He picked up the file on his desk and turned back the cover.

Jo felt a sharp stab of disappointment. ‘Are people usually apprehensive about your treatment?’ she asked after a moment’s pause.

He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘It would be strange if they were not.’

Sarah appeared in the doorway. ‘Sorry, Carl, she’s not coming. She says her daughter is ill and she has to go to see her. I told her she’d have to pay for the appointment anyway –’

Bennet gave a sharp gesture of dismissal. He stood up abruptly. ‘I am sorry, Miss Clifford. I was looking forward to proving my case to you. I am afraid this visit has wasted your time.’

‘Not necessarily surely.’ Sarah had picked up the folder on the desk. ‘Have you ever considered undergoing hypnotic regression yourself, Joanna? After all, Carl now has an afternoon free – at your disposal.’

Jo swallowed. ‘I suppose I should try it myself,’ she said hesitantly. ‘Do you think I could be regressed, Dr Bennet?’

He spread his fingers in the air and shrugged. ‘We could try. People of strong personality tend to make good subjects, but of course they must allow themselves to be hypnotised. No one can be against their will, you know. If you are prepared to set aside your reservations completely I would be prepared to try.’

‘I have no phobias to speak of.’ She managed a little smile. ‘Hobby horses yes. Of such are my columns made, but phobias, I don’t think so.’

‘Then we could regard it merely as an interesting experiment.’ He bowed with old-fashioned courtesy.

Jo found she was breathing rather fast. The palms of her hands were sweating. ‘I’m afraid I would be a difficult subject even if I co-operate as hard as I can. I did take part in a survey at university under Professor Cohen. He didn’t manage to get anywhere with me.’

Bennet sat down on the edge of the desk and looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Michael Cohen was one of the great authorities on the subject. I wish I had met him before he died,’ he said a little wistfully. ‘I’m surprised to find you so hostile to the theories behind hypnotic regression if you were involved in any of his clinical trials. When you say nothing happened, do you mean he was not able to regress you at all?’

Jo shook her head. ‘He couldn’t hypnotise me. I didn’t know why. I didn’t fight it. I wanted it to happen.’

Bells were ringing in her mind once more, full of warning. Almost in panic she turned away from him, not wanting him to see the struggle going on inside her, and crossed the carpet to look out of the window into the busy street below, shivering in spite of the humid warmth of the afternoon. The sun was reflecting on a window opposite, dazzling as she stared at it. She turned back to Bennet.

‘I have a small tape recorder in my bag. Would you object if I used it while you try?’

He shook his head and gestured towards a table by the far wall. ‘As you see, I use one too, for various reasons. I also always insist that Miss Simmons is present to act as a chaperone.’ He did not smile. ‘I should explain, however, that often one needs a preliminary session to establish a rapport between hypnotist and patient. It is a far more delicate relationship than that implied by music hall acts on the pier or sensational fiction. So you should not expect too much on this occasion.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘Or too little either, Miss Clifford. You may indeed be a hard subject – I’m sure with your co-operation, though, I can achieve something. And I have a feeling you would be an interesting case.’ He smiled boyishly. ‘Quite a challenge in fact. But I don’t wish to talk you into this if you still have any reservations. I think you should take a little time to consider –’

‘No!’ Jo surprised herself with the vehemence of her reply. ‘No, let’s do it. I’d like to.’

‘You are quite sure?’

‘Quite.’ She reached for her bag and pulled the recorder out of it. ‘What shall I do?’

He walked towards the window and half pulled one of the curtains across, shading the room. Above the roof of the opposite building a huge purple cloud had appeared, threatening the sun. He glanced at it as he went back to Jo.

‘Just relax. You are very tense, my dear. Why don’t we have a cup of tea or some more coffee perhaps whilst we talk about what is to happen.’

Jo shook her head. ‘I’ll be OK. I suppose it’s natural to want to resist giving your mind to someone else.’ She bit her lip. ‘Can I just ask you to promise one thing? If anything happens, you’ll do nothing to stop me remembering it later. That’s important.’

‘Of course. It will all in any case be on tape.’ He watched as she set the tape recorder on the floor next to his couch.

‘Shall I lie down?’ she asked, eyeing it nervously.

‘If you wish. Wherever you feel most comfortable and relaxed.’ He glanced at Sarah, who had quietly seated herself at the table in the corner before the tape deck. Then he turned back to Jo. ‘Now, Joanna – may I call you Joanna?’

‘Jo,’ Jo whispered.

‘Very well, Jo. I want you to relax completely and close your eyes.’

Jo felt the panic overtaking her. Her eyes flew open and she sat upright. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do it.’

‘Just as you like. Try leaning back against those cushions. Why don’t we try a light trance first, just to make you feel more relaxed, shall we? There’s nothing to worry about. Just something to make you feel good. You may have seen Bill Walton do it. It’s a very usual way of testing people’s reactions.’

Behind him Sarah smiled grimly, recognising the tone of his voice as she saw Jo make herself comfortable against the cushions, her ankles crossed on the soft hide of the sofa. Jo closed her eyes once more and visibly tried to make herself relax.

‘That’s fine.’ Bennet moved towards her on silent feet. ‘Now, the sun is filling the room once more, so I’m going to ask Sarah to pull down the blinds, but meanwhile I want you to keep your eyes tight closed.’ He glanced at the window. The sun had gone. The narrow strip of sky visible from the room was a livid bruise of cloud. There was a low rumble of thunder as he began speaking again. ‘That’s right. You can feel the light burning your eyes. Keep them tightly closed. That’s fine.’ He touched her face lightly. ‘Now, you want to open them but you can’t. The light is too bright.’

Jo did not move. She could hear him clearly and she knew she could open her eyes if she wanted to, but she could sense the glare behind her lids. There seemed no point in moving until Sarah had shut out the sun, the dazzling white shape which had appeared over the rim of the house on the other side of Devonshire Place, shining directly into the room.

Bennet took her hand gently. ‘Jo, can you hear me? Good. Now, I’m going to tickle your hand slightly, just enough to make you smile. Can you feel me do it?’

Sarah gasped. He had taken a small pin from his lapel and driven it deeply into her palm. Jo smiled, her eyes still closed, still wondering why he didn’t shut out the sun.

Bennet glanced at Sarah. Then he turned back to Jo. ‘Now my dear, I want you to go back to when you were a little girl …’

Some ten minutes later Sarah’s whisper broke into his concentration. ‘Carl, she’s the best subject I’ve ever seen.’

He frowned at her, his whole attention fixed on the figure lying back against the cushions in front of him. ‘I had a feeling she might be,’ he replied in an undertone. ‘I can’t understand why Cohen couldn’t reach her, unless –’ He broke off and looked at her thoughtfully.

‘Unless what?’

‘Unless he gave her a post-hypnotic suggestion that she should not remember for some reason.’ He turned back to Jo. ‘Now, Jo, my dear, I want you to go back, back to the time before you were born, to the dark time, when you were floating free …’

Jo stirred uneasily, moving her head from side to side. Then she lay still again, completely relaxed as she listened to him.

‘Now, Jo. Before the darkness. When you lived before. Do you remember? You are another person, in another time. Do you remember? Can you tell me? What do you see?’

Jo opened her eyes and stared hard in front of her at the arm of the sofa. ‘It’s getting dark,’ she said uncertainly. ‘Dark and cold.’

‘Are you indoors or out, can you see?’ Bennet frowned at the window, which showed that it was indeed getting dark and that a torrential summer rain had begun to fall, streaming down the windows, gurgling from a broken gutter. There was another deep roll of thunder.

Jo spoke hesitantly. ‘It’s the trees. They’re so thick here. I don’t like the forest.’

‘Do you know which forest it is?’ Bennet was watching her intently.