secret is to get back out there fighting. Otherwise you’re dead.” He turned back to Jim. “I have a feeling you’ll handle this meeting like a master, that’s why I want to sit in on it. And, let’s face it, we’ve got nothing to lose. In fact, if we get Desco back and I win the New York accounts we’ll have to expand!” He walked to the window and pulled up the blind, then he turned to Jim and grinned. “And I’m just in the mood to build an empire at the moment, so you’ve been warned!”
It was seven-twenty that evening when at last he walked into the bar of the Black Lamb near Talgarth. He glanced around. It was empty.
“What can I get you, sir?” The bartender appeared through a bead curtain at the back as Nick hauled himself wearily onto a stool. He ordered a Scotch and soda, looking around with some curiosity. There was no sign of Jo. “You seem very quiet, landlord.”
The man shrugged. “They’ll all be in later. Friday, see. Tarting themselves up, they are, then come eight, they’ll all be here.” He pushed the glass across the bar.
“Have something yourself.” Nick flipped a five-pound note onto the counter. “Tell me, do you still have a Miss Clifford staying here?” He picked up his glass.
The man grinned. “Thank you very much. One more night, she said. She’s out now though-going to Radnor, I think she said she was, this morning.” He drew himself a pint before opening the till to look for the change. “Friend of hers, are you?”
Nick nodded. “You haven’t another room, I suppose?”
“Just for the one night is it?”
“Just the one.”
“Well, if you don’t mind somewhere a bit shabby like, maybe I could fit you in. It’s bad time of the year, see, with all the visitors.”
“I don’t mind as long as I can sleep.” Nick finished his drink and pushed the glass back toward the man. “Tell me, do you expect Jo-Miss Clifford-back for dinner?”
“Well, now, we don’t exactly serve dinner, sir. Chicken in a basket we can do you, or a nice scampi.” He leaned forward suddenly, staring past Nick out of the window. “Isn’t that her car now?”
Nick swung around. His jaw tightened as he watched Jo back the MG into the corner of the parking lot behind the pub. She climbed out of her car and he saw her stand for a moment staring at his Porsche, then she glanced over her shoulder toward the pub. Even from that distance he could see the sudden anxiety on her face. She was wearing a deep rose-color blouse with jeans, and he found himself staring at her hungrily as she stooped into the car to find her bag, then she slammed the door and walked almost reluctantly toward them.
She pushed the door open. “What are you doing here, Nick?” she cried. “Didn’t I make myself clear? I never want to see you again!”
Behind them the barman folded his arms and leaned with interest against the till.
“I told Sam not to tell you where I was,” she went on, flinging her bag down on a chair. “A gin and tonic, please, Mr. Vaughan.”
“Coming up.” He reached up to the gin bottle with a grin. “The gentleman is paying for it, is he?”
“He is.”
Nick noticed that her hand was shaking as she reached for the glass and to his surprise he felt a quick surge of pleasure.
“You should know better than to trust Sam,” he said softly. “You should know better by now than to trust Sam with anything at all.”
She did not smile. “It’s over, Nick. Finished.” She tried to drag her eyes away from his face. His handsome features were shadowed with fatigue. She looked down abruptly at her glass. “Please, Nick. Don’t make a scene here.”
“I’m not going to make a scene. All I want is to talk.” Nick made a despairing grimace at their host, who was listening with undisguised attention. “Where, by the way, is the talented Mr. Heacham? I thought he was supposed to be with you?”
She tensed suddenly and he saw the color in her cheeks. “He had to go back to town. He only came to take some pictures.”
Nick tried to hide his elation. “All the better. We can talk in peace. Look, Jo. I’m going back to London tomorrow, so you needn’t panic. Why don’t we have something to eat and a bottle of wine, then we’ll talk later. That’s all I want to do. Please-” he added as an afterthought.
Jo hesitated, then she stood up, forcing a smile. “All right. I’ll go and change out of these jeans and join you in ten minutes. But just for a meal.” She picked up her bag. “Do I gather you intend to stay here tonight?”
He nodded. “Mr. Vaughan has a closet for me, I believe.”
“That’s just as well.” She gave him a tight smile. “Because my room is single.”
“Ouch!” Vaughan said quietly as Jo swung out of the room. “Would I be right in thinking you’ve offended the lady?”
Nick gave a dry laugh. “Something like that,” he said.
In her room at the top of the steep stairs Jo shut the door and leaned against it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then slowly she walked to the small table, which sported a square mirror, and stared at her reflection as she began to unbutton her blouse. She had known when she called Sam that he would tell Nick where she was. Was that why she had done it? She pulled off the blouse and threw it on the bed then wearily she slipped out of her jeans. As she pulled on her bathrobe, she went to the door. There would be time for a shower and a few minutes flat on her back with her eyes closed before she need go back downstairs.
“Have you gone back into the past again since you’ve been here?” Nick looked up at her across the small table. The room was noisy now, crowded and full of cigarette smoke.
She was toying listlessly with her french fries. After a minute she nodded. “You know, when I wanted to go into a trance with Tim there so that he could photograph me-nothing happened. I couldn’t do it-but then later I did.”
“And it frightened you, didn’t it?”
“It frightened me that I couldn’t control it.” She glanced up at him under her eyelashes. “I was going to Radnor today, then halfway there I stopped. I panicked. I didn’t want it to happen again; suddenly I didn’t dare go anywhere Matilda might have been. I didn’t want anything to trigger off another regression, not alone.”
Their eyes met. Nick’s face was harsh. “So your past doesn’t please you. Do you intend to forget about Matilda now?”
“How can I? I’m trapped.” She gave up all pretense of eating and reached for her wineglass. “Are you going to say I told you so?”
He ignored the question. “You need not have come back to Wales.”
“Oh, but I did have to. I’m working on a story, and I want to finish it.”
“Even though you’re afraid?”
“Even though I’m afraid,” she repeated slowly, with a rueful smile. “Remember the war correspondent.”
He was watching her closely. She had let her hair fall loosely on her shoulders and was wearing now a tan linen dress, unadorned save for a thin gold chain around her neck. As she spoke a heavy lock of her hair slipped forward onto her breast. She put down her glass. “Have you come up here to apologize, Nick?”
“For what?” He narrowed his eyes.
“For what?” she echoed. “For bloody well nearly killing me once, then last time for scaring me silly.” She stared at him. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember what happened!”
He smiled grimly. “I remember clearly. Tell me, did Tim photograph you while you were making love to one of your phantoms? Will there be pictures of you writhing in ecstasy all over the gutter press?”
Jo’s eyes hardened. “You know bloody well there won’t. Nick, if you’ve come up here to make trouble again-”
