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

" He sighed. "Too many things fit into the picture, Ma. " He glanced down at the books on the table. "I've been thinking about all this very hard over the past week. When I heard the tapes of Jo's first regression a lot of things began to make sense. " He ran his fingers through his hair. "It has forced me to change my views. I believe now that maybe, once in a while, if a person—or people—have left things undone, or perhaps made a terrible mistake in one life, it is possible that when they are reborn they are given a second chance. "

"And you think Jo is being given a second chance?" Her face was inscrutable as she watched him.

Sam smiled. "Jo. Or someone else. "

"You don't really believe that?" she said after a moment. "That there is some kind of karmic replay?" She frowned. "That is an Eastern philosophy, Sam, not one that sits easily on Western shoulders. " She paused. "But how is Jo in herself, Sam? Nick was very worried about her. Especially when you called and said she didn't want to see him before he went off to France. She did say that?" She was watching him carefully again.

"She was badly shaken by what happened last Friday and a bit confused. I think she felt she had made rather a fool of herself in front of him. It will all have blown over by the time he gets back and they will both be glad they didn't meet again to prolong the embarrassment. "

"This theory of yours. " She went to stand near him. "Does Jo believe it too?"

"Jo is still fighting it. " Sam frowned. "And until she accepts it she is unlikely to accept the wider implication that others must have been reincarnated with her, so that they can work out their destiny together with hers. It has to work like that. "

"So you think now that Jo is not the only one. " Thoughtfully she walked back into the living room. "Do you think Nick is involved?" She looked at him suddenly. "He wasn't someone in this past life of hers?"

"Oh, yes, Nick is involved. " Sam's voice had suddenly lost its lightness.

"How do you know?" she asked sharply. She sat down, putting her cup on the coffee table. "And you?" she said after a moment's hesitation. "Are you involved too?"

"I rather think I am. " Sam sat down opposite her. "Crazy, isn't it?" He gave her a disarming smile.

"And do you have any proof for this theory?"

"Proof?" He looked at her in astonishment. "How can there be proof? Don't be obtuse, Ma. "

"I mean, have you or Nick had this hypnosis thing done to you, to find out?"

He shook his head. "Some things one knows. One remembers... "

She shuddered. "You're giving me the creeps, Sam! I have never heard such a load of nonsense in my life. You've let your imagination run away with you. I suggest you go back to Scotland and imbue yourself with a good dose of Scots common sense!" She looked at Sam. "Who do you think you are—or were—in her story?"

Sam grinned. "Never you mind, Ma. I think we should stop talking about this. " His tone changed. "Now, what have you been buying? Are you going to show me?"

She refused to be distracted. "Did this Matilda have many men in her life?"

Sam grimaced. "At least two. Probably three. "

Dorothy was watching him closely. "Were they brothers?" she asked bluntly.

He laughed. "No, they weren't brothers! Come on. Let's stop talking about this. "

She continued, irritated. "Have you told Nick about this idea of yours?"

"No. "

"Are you going to?"

Sam shrugged. "That depends. I think it would be better if Nick concentrated on his advertising at the moment—and the delectable redhead in Fulham. There is no point in stirring things up needlessly. "

"I'm glad to hear that. " Dorothy stood up briskly, trying to ignore her increasing panic. "Sam, I have to go. I've got one or two things to do before I catch my train. " She reached up to kiss him on the cheek, then she hesitated. "But tell me one thing first. You said you thought you had remembered things from the past. That is such a strange, frightening idea. What have you remembered?"

"It was when I was listening to the tape of Jo's first regression, " he replied slowly. "I remembered a ring. A ring on the finger of a man. " He stared at the ceiling over her head. "I have remembered that ring for eight hundred years. "

There was silence in the room.

Dorothy licked her lips uneasily. "Why?" she whispered at last.

"Because he was my guest. And I murdered him. "

It was several days before Jo's breasts returned to normal. Grimly she worked, typing up her notes, using every ounce of willpower she possessed to put Carl Bennet and Matilda de Braose out of her mind. She springcleaned the apartment, filled the storage closets, arranged to go back to Suffolk by train on Saturday morning to collect the MG, and less and less often had to remove the soggy tissues from her bra. Sam had told her that Nick was in France and she was glad. Nick was a complication she could not handle at the moment. Dutifully each night she took the two sleeping pills Sam had prescribed, went to bed at eleven, and slept heavily. Unpleasantly heavily.

She saw Sam only once more. He checked her over with quiet professionalism, ruffled her hair as if she were a naughty child, and went. She wished he had stayed longer.

When Pete Leveson called out of the blue she accepted his invitation to dinner with alacrity. He took her to the Gasworks and they sat in the huge, dimly lit reception room idly playing with the ornate chess pieces laid out in front of them while they waited for their table. Pete watched her covertly as he sipped his gin and