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

it would be as well to ring him as she hadn’t heard anything from him either. Funny that, considering how serious he had seemed to be getting. You just never knew with people. Come to that, she countered, did you ever really know people at all? Really know them, that is. Take Kyle. Her mind went off on another tangent. Yes, I could take him right now she decided. Or he could take me. It was a disturbing thing to think about late at night so she turned her attention to his phone call instead. What was he really likely to turn up with his ferreting through files and records? So what if there were some odd characters around and she had her suspicions? What did it all add up to? Questions, questions and more questions. If that was the small price she had to pay for the luxury of having Willow Cottage then so be it. Thanks to Rupert it was hers and not even Laura could take it away from her. Ubix came padding quickly out of the kitchen, as though the floor were hot, and jumped up onto her lap.

“At least we like it here, don’t we puss?” The cat responded immediately to her touch, purring loudly. “Not like that funny old Jane.” Bella looked around her, contentedly. “I mean, what is there not to like about this place, hm?”

Monday must have got all the bugs out of the system because Tuesday and Wednesday saw Bella at the computer working away uninterrupted, her trip to London no more than a distant memory. Even the tragedy of her hair had been relegated to a minor nuisance. In her element now, her world had shrunk down to the one room but, in contrast, her imagination was unrestricted by such meagre boundaries and she employed it unreservedly. Over the two days it occurred to her more than once that she had never been happier. Not only that, but how fortunate she was to be doing something that she loved in such a conducive environment. She was not one to take such things lightly knowing how fickle the hand of fate could be but, being a pragmatist, she knew she had to take every advantage of her situation and relished the opportunity to do so.

Thursday brought the prospect of Cora and Joshua arriving and she found herself quite looking forward to seeing them. Company was company, whoever it was and Bella hoped the ice that had been so firmly packed around Cora’s good humour would have been melted a little. The gardener’s demeanour never seemed to change, his grin always in place on the round, whiskery face under the squashed hat. Deferential to a fault and shy by nature, what he lacked in communication skills he more than made up for by his expertise in the garden. In recent years Bella had discovered she valued the company of quiet people and respected Joshua for his competency but she longed for Cora to open up to her. Maybe it was asking a lot but she pondered the possibility as she buttered a slice of toast for her breakfast. Ubix had just come in and she had put his bowl of biscuits on the kitchen floor. A noise she recognised had her automatically glancing at the clock. Mickey was early with the post and she couldn’t wait to find out what he had brought. A quick look in the lobby mirror to make sure her hair was ok and she opened the door, wondering if he would notice that she’d had it cut, even.

“Mickey told me to ‘oot when I pulled in.” What she had been expecting was a far cry from what confronted her. The welcoming smile was quickly replaced by a look of disbelief. Walking towards her, carrying a small package and a number of envelopes, was a man in his fifties. Although he was of average height, he was substantially overweight and walked with a slight limp, his left shoulder appearing to be permanently lower than the right, as if he’d spent years walking the streets carrying a heavy post bag. His large pot belly hung over his belt and the last button of his shirt, above the trousers, was undone. Whereas Mickey’s uniform was always clean and neat, it looked as though this man might have slept in his, if indeed it was his at all. It could well have belonged to someone two sizes smaller as the material was under strain just about everywhere. His hat sat slightly askew on his head. As he limped up to Bella, she could see that he was perspiring, his florid face moist and greasy looking.

“’Ere you are then, missis!” As she’d first thought, the accent was Welsh. He held out the package and the letters for her to take.

“Bit far from home aren’t you,” she quipped, feeling flippant. “What did you do, drive over from Cardiff last night?” The remark fell on stony ground as he obviously didn’t understand so Bella tried another tack, determined to appear friendly, if only for Mickey’s sake.

“So what have you done, hijacked the van and tied Mickey up in the back?”

“You’re pulling my leg, now, aren’t you indeed?” On an impulse, Bella checked her mail, to make sure that it was all hers. “No, young Mickey’s got a couple of days off. Gone to Birmingham, he has, for some competition or other.”

“Oh?” she remarked, casually. “What sort of a competition?”

“Something sporting I think it was.” He turned away and began limping back to the van. “He did tell me but I’ve forgotten.”

None of the letters looked interesting but the package was a different matter. It had a London postmark on the plain brown wrapping paper. Bella walked back inside, closing the door behind her with a shove of her backside, tearing the paper away as she returned to the kitchen to finish her breakfast. Her efforts revealed the unmistakable shape of a