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

‘Roughly? That different subjects reacted in different ways. We tabulated almost as many theories as there were regression sessions. You must read his book. Some people faked, there was no question about that. Some openly re-enacted scenes from books and films. Some produced what they thought we hoped we would hear. And some were beyond explanation.’

‘And which was Joanna Clifford?’

‘I think one of the latter.’ He gave a wry smile.

Jo eyed him thoughtfully. ‘I had a feeling you were going to say that. Tell me, Sam, do you believe in reincarnation?’

‘No.’

‘Then what do you think happens?’

‘I have one or two ill-formed and unscientific theories about, shall we say, radio waves trapped in the ether. Some people, when in a receptive state, tune into the right wavelengths and get a bit of playback.’

‘You mean I was actually seeing what happened in 1174?’

‘An echo of it – a reverberation, shall we say? Don’t quote me, Jo, for God’s sake. I’d be drummed out of every professional body there is. But it does go some way to explain why more than one person gets the same playback on occasions. It explains ghosts as well, of course. A good all-round theory.’ He laughed.

‘Have you seen a ghost?’

The strain, he noted with satisfaction, had lessened in her face; her neck muscles were no longer so prominent.

‘Never! I’m not the receptive type, thank God! You haven’t any coffee I suppose, Jo?’ He changed the subject thankfully. ‘I need a regular fix every two hours or I get withdrawal symptoms and it’s been twice that at least.’

‘Why not? Sam –’ She paused in the doorway, running her fingernail up and down the cream-painted woodwork. ‘Can you hypnotise people?’

‘I can. Yes.’

‘And regress them?’

‘I haven’t gone on with Cohen’s experiments,’ he replied carefully. ‘There are others chasing that particular hare now. My field is rather different.’

Jo grinned. ‘You didn’t answer my question, Dr Franklyn. Can you regress people?’

‘I have done, yes.’

‘And would you do it to me?’

‘Under no circumstances. Jo –’ He paused, groping for the right words. ‘Listen, love. You must not contemplate pursuing this matter. I meant it when I said you should not see Carl Bennet again. You must not allow anyone to try and regress you. I am not so concerned about the drama and the psychological stress that you are put under, although that is obviously not good for you. What worries me is the fact that you are prone to physiological reaction. You reflect physically what you are describing. That is very rare. It is also potentially dangerous.’

‘You mean if William beat me … her up, I’d wake up with bruises?’

‘Exactly.’ Sam compressed his lips.

‘And if she starved to death?’ The question came out as a whisper.

There was a pause. Sam looked away. ‘I think that is unlikely.’ He forced himself to laugh. ‘Nevertheless, it would obviously be foolish to put yourself deliberately at risk. Now, please – coffee?’

For a moment Jo did not move, her eyes on his face. Then slowly she turned towards the kitchen.

It was dark when Dorothy Franklyn arrived at the flat carrying an armful of roses. A tall, striking woman in her mid-sixties, she habitually wore tortoiseshell-rimmed glasses and immaculate Jaeger suits which made her look the epitome of efficiency. She was in fact always slightly disorganised and invariably late for whatever she was trying to do. Jo was enormously fond of her.

‘Are you sure you don’t mind me dropping in like this, Jo?’ she said apologetically as she came in. ‘I came up for a matinée and then I had supper but I wanted to leave you the flowers.’ She eyed Jo surreptitiously. ‘You look tired my dear. Would you rather I just left them and went?’

Jo shook her head. She caught the other woman’s arm and pulled her into the room. ‘Sit down and I’ll put the kettle on. You’ve just missed your son. That’s why I’m tired, he took me out to dinner.’

Dorothy smiled, her whole face lighting with pleasure. ‘Jo! I’m so glad. It broke my heart when you and he split up –’

‘No –’ Jo interrupted. ‘I meant Sam.’

‘Sam?’ Dorothy frowned. ‘I thought he was in Switzerland.’

‘He was. He’s stopped off in London for a few days – mainly to do a quick psychoanalysis of me, I think.’ Jo grinned wryly. ‘He’s staying at Nick’s flat if you want to see him. Nick’s not there of course, so the flat is free.’

She could feel the other woman’s eyes on her face, bright with embarrassment and sympathy, and she forced herself to go on smiling somehow.

‘How is Sam?’ Dorothy asked after a long pause.

‘Fine. He’s been giving a paper on some terribly obscure subject. I was very impressed. He took me to tea at the zoo.’ She laughed.

Dorothy smiled. ‘He always says the zoo teaches one so much about people.’ She hesitated, eyeing Jo thoughtfully. ‘He has always been very fond of you, you know, Jo. I don’t think you and Nick ever realised how much it hurt Sam when Nick walked off with you. Nick has always found it so easy to have any girl he wanted – I’m sorry, that sounds dreadful, and I know you were different – you were special to him. But you have been special to Sam too.’

Jo looked down guiltily. ‘I think I did know. It’s just that we met under such strange circumstances. I was a guinea pig in one of his experiments.’ She shivered. ‘Our relationship always seemed a little unreal after that. He was so concerned about me, but I always had the feeling it was a paternal concern, as if he were worried about my health.’ She paused abruptly. ‘He was, of course. I know that now. Anyway, he was twenty-six or -seven and I was only nineteen when we first met. We belonged to different worlds. I did rather fancy him –’ She was staring at the roses lying on the table. ‘If I’m honest I suppose I still do. He’s an attractive bloke. But then Nick came along …’ She stood up abruptly. ‘Let me put these in water or they’ll die before our eyes. And I’ll make you some coffee.’

‘Is it serious, this thing with Judy Curzon?’ Dorothy’s voice was gentle.

‘It sounds like it. She is much more his type than I ever was. She’s domesticated and artistic and a redhead.’ Jo forced herself to laugh. ‘Perhaps I should cultivate old Sam now. Better late than never and we seem to have quite a bit in common after all. It might even make Nick jealous!’ Scooping up the flowers, she buried her face in the velvet blooms, then she carried them through to the kitchen and dropped them into the sink.

Turning the cold tap on full, she turned and saw Dorothy had followed her. She 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?’