Tim’s eyes narrowed.
“Some strange things happened, Tim, and they frightened me.” She began walking again and he followed her. “I had a regression, but I don’t think it was spontaneous. And I don’t think I was alone.”
“You think Sam hypnotized you?”
“He’s done it before. I asked him to. But this time I hadn’t, and I wanted him to leave, but I don’t think he did. I think he hypnotized me without my even knowing it. This morning I found-” She bit her lip. “I found a tape of music that I remember from the trance. Flute music, and I don’t think they even had flutes at that period-or at least not that kind of flute. It’s the only anachronistic thing that’s happened. And there was something else-” Again she stopped. This time she couldn’t go on. Glancing at her, Tim saw her face was pale, the skin drawn tight with fatigue and worry. He drove his hands into the pockets of his trousers, his fists clenched.
“What else, Jo?” he said softly.
She shook her head. “Tim, I think Sam may have somehow been directing the whole thing. I don’t think any of it was genuine after all. I think he’s behind it all-even you and Nick. Somehow he’s manipulated us all into believing that it was all real. Do you know, this morning when my nosy neighbor came down to complain about the music in the night, she said she’d heard someone leave the apartment and I thought it was William! I thought somehow he had manifested himself into a physical presence, like a ghost! Then I realized it must have been Sam they heard. It was Sam all the time. Sam still somehow pretending to be William…”
Slowly they had walked on toward the Temple Church, and on impulse Tim pushed open the door and gestured to Jo to go in ahead of him out of the hot brilliant sunlight into the cool of the interior.
“I have a feeling the whole thing is some sort of horrible hoax,” she went on, scarcely noticing where they were going. “I think Sam might even somehow have initiated the whole thing all those years ago when I was a student. None of it is real, Tim.” Her whispered words echoed around the silent church. “And I can’t bear it. I wanted it to have happened.” She took a deep breath, trying to steady the shakiness in her voice. “I know I’m not being objective! I know I’m being stupid and sentimental and I should have my head x-rayed again, but I can’t bring myself to believe it’s a hoax! I don’t want to believe it’s a hoax!”
“It’s not a hoax, Jo,” Tim said softly. “In some ways I wish to God it were. But you are right in one thing. Sam is involved. He came to see me last week and I knew it then. He is part of it, Jo.”
She stared at him. “How?” she breathed.
“There were three of us, Jo, three men who all loved you as Matilda. And who all love you now.”
In the silence that followed they looked up, startled, as a tourist, walking slowly around the church behind them, raised his camera and took a flash picture over Jo’s shoulder. He grinned at them apologetically and moved on.
Jo stared down unseeing at the stone effigy of a knight lying before them on the ground. “Three men?” she echoed in a whisper. “Who?”
Tim shrugged. “The only one I know about is Richard,” he said sadly. “Only Sam and Nick can tell you who they were, if you don’t know yet.”
There was a long silence.
“Sam hates Nick,” Jo said softly. “I never realized it until Mrs. Franklyn told me, then suddenly it was so obvious, in everything he does and everything he says.”
“How well do you know Sam?” Tim put his arm around her shoulder.
Gently Jo moved away from him. “I’ve known him about fifteen years. I like him. He’s fun and he’s kind and he’s very attractive. If Nick hadn’t come along I suppose I might have-” She stopped abruptly. “Oh, Tim-” Her voice shook.
Tim took a deep breath. “Don’t let him hypnotize you again, Jo. Don’t ever trust him.”
“No,” she whispered. “No. But it doesn’t matter now, because it’s all over. Whether it’s real or not, it is over. And I wanted you to know because…because you are…were…involved.”
Tim bowed slightly. “Thanks.” He gave a rueful grin suddenly. “How strange! Do you see where we are, Jo?” He indicated the effigies at their feet.
She stared down.
One of the four stone effigies that lay with their feet toward the east was the carved figure of William Marshall, first Earl of Pembroke. On his left arm he carried a shield, in his right hand a sword. His face, moustached and bland, stared from his mail hood up past them toward the dome of the church, the eyes wide. One foot was broken, the other rested on a small snarling animal. A thin ray of sunlight straying through the clear glass of one of the south windows touched his face.
“We knew him, you and I,” Tim said softly.
For a moment neither of them moved, then Jo turned and, with a little sob, she almost ran from the church.
Tim followed her slowly, closing the door behind him with a clatter that echoed in the silence of the building.
She was standing outside, staring up at the sky. “I am going, Tim,” she said wildly. “I am going to the States. None of this will matter there.”
Tim nodded slowly. “So. When will you leave?”
She shrugged. “I’m seeing Bet late this afternoon. There’s a contract I’ve got to tear up.” She gave a rueful laugh. “Once that is over I’ll sort things out and leave as soon as I can.” She shivered. “It’s cold. Let’s do what you first suggested and walk down along the river.”
The tide was high, the moored ships riding up alongside the river wall, the thick Thames water deeply opaque as it slopped cheerfully against the gray stone. They leaned on the wall and stared over at the river boats chugging up the center of the tide. Tim’s fingers itched suddenly for his camera as he stared south toward the opposite bank. The choppy water, sparkling in the breezy sunlight, threw a rippled haze of refracted light onto the black paintwork of the old Thames barge moored against the green piles.
He took a deep breath. If Jo could throw off the past, surely to God he could too!
Slowly they began to walk west toward Westminster. He glanced at his watch. “I have got to get back by two, Jo,” he said gently. “I’ve got another session starting then.”
She smiled. The wind had pushed the hair back from her face, bringing some color back to her cheeks. “You do think I’m right to go, Tim.” She was almost pleading suddenly.
“One can’t run away from destiny, Jo.” He didn’t look at her. “But then your destiny is tied up with Nick.”
“Is it?” she said in a small voice. “All I know is, I want to be with him.” She walked on, her eyes narrowed in the dazzle of light off the water, watching the gulls wheeling and diving in the wake of a police launch as it churned westward. “The trouble is, I have a feeling that in that previous life of ours he hated me.”
“You do know who he was, then?”
Tim had almost to run to keep up with her as she began to walk faster and faster. Then she stopped dead, staring unseeing toward the Festival Hall across the glittering water.
“But it’s not real, Tim,” she said at last. “That part of it is not real.”
Tim clenched his fists in his pockets as she began walking once more, but he said nothing. It wasn’t until they reached Westminster that she stopped again.
She turned to him at last. “You’ll have to take the subway back if you’re going to make it by two. I’m sorry. I’ve made you late.”
He nodded.
“Tim”-she caught his hands-“Tim, that night in Raglan. I’m glad it happened.”
He smiled at her. “So am I, Jo.” The smile broadened. “I owe destiny one now.”
“Perhaps in our next life…?”
He laughed out loud. “It’s a date.”
He stood watching as she dodged across the road and jumped on a bus as it moved up the road, then he turned toward the steps that led to the station near Westminster Pier. His smile had died as swiftly as it had come.
“No! No! No!” Bet slammed her fist on her desk, making the pens jump up in the air. “No, you can’t tear up that
