Lady of Hay Barbara Erskine (reading books for 7 year olds TXT) 📖

Nick lay back on his hotel bed and tore off his tie. His shirt was damp from the heat of the sidewalk outside and he was sweating and uncomfortable but, for the moment, he was too exhausted even to go and stand under the cold shower. He put his arm across his eyes. The presentation had gone well; he should be elated. He listened wearily to the wail of a police siren fifteen floors below on Lexington Avenue.

He was almost asleep when the phone rang beside him. He rolled over onto his elbows and picked up the receiver.

"Nick?" It was Jim Greerson. "How did it go?"

Nick lay back. "Okay. I think things are looking hopeful. How about your end?"

"I had dinner with Mike Desmond as arranged last night. I groveled a bit more, old boy, and then I told him what an ass he was, chucking the best up-and-coming firm in London just because we'd given a break to a new fellow. I told him we'd supervise a new campaign for him personally. " He hesitated. "When I say we, I actually said you. "

"And?" Nick crossed his ankle over his raised knee. He was gazing up at the ceiling.

"He's not too pleased with the service he's got so far from you know who. I gather he expected them to jump once they'd got a sniff of the account, instead of which, according to him, they send some teenybopper copywriter over. I saw him at a good psychological moment. Besides which, he said he couldn't pass up the opportunity of being serviced by royalty. " Jim sniggered.

"Royalty?" Nick leaned over and reached for the jug of orange juice on the bedside table. "What royalty? Don't tell me Prince Edward has decided to become an adman?"

"No, old son. You. "

"Me?"

"Your secret life. You mean you don't know it's blown?

It's all over the papers here, for God's sake. The Mail had it on Thursday and the Standard on Friday. "

Nick sat up. "What secret life? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Hang on, hang on. I'll find the page and read it to you. Bear with me, old boy. It's midnight here, and I've had a hard day. "

Nick lay still, his eyes closed, as Jim read the piece to him over the transatlantic line. He felt completely detached, as if the person being talked about were someone else. He was not surprised, not even indignant. Merely very, very weary.

When Jim finished there was a brief silence. "Is it all true, old boy?" Jim said tentatively after a moment.

"It's true that I let my brother hypnotize me, yes, " Nick said curtly. "As to what happened, you'll have to ask him. I remember nothing about it. It all seems very far-fetched. " He heard himself laugh. "I suppose Judy Curzon is responsible for this. I'll wring her neck when I get back. "

"Better send her to the Tower, old boy, it's more in character. " Jim laughed uproariously. "You haven't heard from Jo about it, then?" he asked curiously after a moment.

"No, " Nick said shortly. "Not a word. "

There was a moment's silence, then Jim went on. "Listen, I've got a meeting at eight tomorrow, so I'd best go or I'll never wake up. I'll call you tomorrow, same time, okay?"

Nick replaced the receiver. Sitting up, he swung his legs to the floor. The air-conditioning had made the room very cold. He walked into the bathroom, stripped off his shirt, and turned the shower full on, then he went back to the phone.

"I want to call London, " he said brusquely, and he gave his own number.

Margiad Griffiths woke Jo with a cup of tea. She sat down on the edge of Jo's bed. "How did you sleep, then?"

Jo stretched. "Very well. Your charm must have worked. " She felt beneath the pillow for the old Bible and touched it lightly.

Margiad nodded. "I knew it would. There was a phone call for you earlier, " she went on. She reached into the pocket of her skirt for a piece of paper. "Mr. Clements. He said would you go and have lunch with him and his wife tomorrow about twelve. He said don't call back unless you can't go. "

Jo smiled. "That's nice of him. Mr. Clements is the reason I'm here. He's written lots of books on smallholdings and animals and the history of Northumberland. He's bought a place near Brecon. "

Margiad stood up. "Famous, is he?" She smiled. "And you're writing about him, are you? Good. That'll take your mind off your other troubles. " She hesitated in the doorway. "What will you do today, then?"

Jo sat up, pushing her heavy hair off her face. She glanced at the window where a thin layer of hazy cloud masked the blue of the sky. "I'll stay here another night or two if I may, " she said. "I've some notes to write up about Ben Clements, and then—" She hesitated. "Then I think I'll explore Hay a little more. "

Heavy swirling black clouds were building up in the western sky although as yet there was no breath of wind. Matilda reined in her horse and glanced up, then she signaled the horsemen around her to hurry as they cantered back down the track toward Hay, following the curving arm of the Wye through the flat dry meadows, throwing up clouds of powdery dust that stung the eyes and choked the throat. A zigzag of lightning lit up the purple sky and sent her horse shying across the path of her companion, Lady de Say, who swore like a man and grabbed at the pommel of her saddle to prevent herself from being thrown. It was unbearably hot.

"I'll wager a silver penny we can get back before the first raindrop falls, " Matilda called over her shoulder. She was exhilarated suddenly by the threat of the storm.

It had been a bitter and unhappy year, and she