The Knapthorne Conspiracy Malcolm Ballard (most popular novels of all time .txt) 📖

happy looking baby she was while the pale child with the red hair attracted polite but cursory attention. One of Patrick’s less endearing features was his quick temper, which could flare with the intensity of a lighted match at the least provocation. Maria put it down to his Irishness, as she called it, happy to lay the blame at the feet of the whole race but the contagion had spread from his father, a man capable of fearsome rages, who could keep his whole family living in fear for days. The old man had passed away recently but his legacy lived on. Laura’s tantrums started about three weeks after the baby came home, the first one happening one meal time when she flatly refused to eat. On being gently reprimanded by her father, she promptly threw the plate of food on the floor. Patrick had yelled at her, something he had never done before and Laura had burst into tears. When Maria had finished chastising Patrick, for yelling at their daughter, both parents had smothered Laura with affection to try and placate her but Laura had only made more noise, revelling in the attention. A lesson learned, she stored the knowledge away for future use.

Not long after that episode, the precocious, three-year-old Laura took the hostilities one step further. Since her entry into the household, Arabella had been a model baby in almost every way, sleeping right through on most nights, breast-feeding without giving Maria too much discomfort and rarely crying. So different to Laura when she had been that age, her parents would delight in telling family and friends and fuss over Arabella all the more for it. Each afternoon, Maria had got into the habit of leaving the baby in the bassinet, where she could enjoy the warmth of the summer sun by the french windows in the lounge. The windows led directly out into the back garden of their Windsor home, therefore it wasn’t difficult for Laura to slip in unnoticed and approach the sleeping baby. She would stand, silently, for a few moments to check that the baby was sleeping soundly then, with a quick look over her shoulder to make sure no one was around, reach into the bassinet and pinch Arabella really hard, to make her cry. By the time her mother arrived to find out what was the matter, Laura was long gone. These events had taken place over thirty years ago but they had sown the seeds of Laura’s sibling jealousy. These were, in turn, cultivated by the fact that Arabella had grownup to be a pretty girl, then a striking young woman whose looks and personality opened doors which, for Laura, would be forever closed if not firmly padlocked. Try as she might, Arabella had never been able to get along with her sister. Whatever she attempted to do, Laura would somehow turn against her and accuse her sister of being patronising. When they were teenagers, she had given up trying to get boys interested in Laura because all they ever wanted to talk to her about was Arabella and that would just make Laura madder than ever. Jealously had made Laura into a mean, narrow-minded adult unable to sustain a relationship with a man and having few friends, the blame for all of which she laid firmly at her sister’s feet. Now, nearing forty years of age, the passing years had not been kind to Laura and it showed in the sullen expression on her thin, lined face and her perpetually downturned mouth. The red hair she wore proudly now like a symbol of her aggression and a testament to her sad life. Arabella’s success as a novelist had only served to drive the wedge more deeply between the two women and the reading of Rupert’s will had been the first time they’d seen each other in more than six months.

The water in the bath was cooling rapidly but Bella felt totally at peace with the world after her long soak and the two glasses of wine. She eased herself up out of the water, quickly soaped herself all over then immersed herself. As she stood once more, leaning forward to let the water out of the bath as she did so, the front door bell rang. The immediate thought that crossed her mind and one that, later, she wished she’d listened to, was to ignore it in the hope that whoever it was might go away. But, following on in a very short space of time after the first ring, came three rings in quick succession. As Bella reached for her thick, towelling robe it occurred to her that, whoever it was, they must want something urgently. A trail of wet footprints marked her exit from the bathroom as she proceeded down the hallway into the living room. The room was on two levels and she mounted the step that took her from the dining area up into the lounge, humming an anonymous little tune to herself as she made for the door. Before she reached it, the bell rang again, three times in quick succession.

“Alright, keep your hair on!” she muttered under her breath, reaching for the knob to turn the catch. Red hair, as it happened. Bella’s mouth dropped open as she stood looking at her sister but she wasn’t given the chance to speak.

“Well, you did very nicely for yourself, today, didn’t you?” she sneered, looking up into her sister’s face as she barged past her into the flat. Any vestige of the relaxed feeling generated by the bath was immediately dissipated as Bella felt her blood rising.

“Come in, Laura. Make yourself at home,” she murmured. Her sister turned, hands on hips, and squared up to her.

“And what little tricks did you get up to with your Uncle Foxy to get him to give you the cottage then?” Sarcasm and innuendo had become second nature to Laura, over the years and Bella should have