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

look on Alfred Flint’s face she could see he wasn’t enjoying the exchange, obviously sensitive to the atmosphere and she didn’t want him to disappear.

“Take no notice of me,” she said, by way of an apology. “The day hasn’t got off to a very good start.”

“That’s ok, miss,” Samuel replied. “Whereabouts you from?” He asked the question as he took Reg’s empty glass to refill it.

“Salisbury. Had to come out this way on business.”

“Oh? What sort of business’d that be then?” the landlord asked. The open expression on his gnome-like face indicated that he was just passing the time of day. Over the years it had become second nature to find out what strangers were up to in the village. Just to be on the safe side.

“Legal business. I’m looking for a family that lives here, in Knapthorne.” She drained half the glass at one swig looking over its rim at the landlord, watching his face.

“Well, I knows just about everybody round ‘ere, so maybe I can ‘elp.” He placed the full glass in front of Reg and took the man’s money. “Who is it you’m a-lookin’ for?” He went to the till which was on the far side of Alfie, who was on his knees, facing her, stacking bottles from the crate onto one of the shelves. She looked directly into his eyes as she spoke.

“The family name’s Flint. I believe there’s three of them. Cora, Ruth and Alfred.” The change in his expression was amazing to watch. It was as if someone had told him he’d just won the lottery. Like the weather had changed from dull and overcast to bright sunshine.

“She knows about our Ruthy, Samuel. She knows where Ruthy is!” If the change in Alfred’s attitude had been amazing, it dulled in comparison to what she witnessed with Samuel.

“Get upstairs, Alfie. Now!” The fierce command obviously took Alfie by surprise from the terrified look on his face as Samuel all but dragged him up by the collar, his face dark, his mood threatening.

“But Samuel…” his small voice pleaded, then died away under Samuel’s withering look

“Now!” He looked up at the young woman standing at the bar, his face contorted in anger and confusion.

“I don’t know what you’m be a-wantin’ but Cora Flint’s out back. I’ll just go and fetch her.” His thoughts were racing in every direction as he headed for the kitchen, trying to imagine what the stranger could possibly want. Legal business? What sort of legal business? And why had she mentioned Ruth’s name? What was going on. Surely something wasn’t going to come out of the woodwork after all this time? Cora looked up as he came in.

“There’s someone in the bar says they’re lookin’ for you.”

“Lookin’ for me?” Cora replied, in disbelief. Samuel nodded.

“Why would anyone be a-lookin’ for me?” The surprise on her face melted away and she began to look concerned.

“Who is it, Samuel, do you know?”

“A young lass, no more than twenty-summat. Never seen ‘er before in my life. Says it’s some legal business or other.” Cora didn’t like the sound of the word legal. Didn’t like it one little bit.

“You go see ‘er for me, eh, Samuel. There’s a love. Find out what she wants first. Then I might think about comin’ out.” In a very apprehensive mood, Samuel made his way back to the bar but when he looked for the young woman she was nowhere to be seen. Wendy Daniels had gone.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Kyle’s visit had done Bella no favours at all. First of all she had stayed up, more asleep than awake, until gone two-o-clock, in case he had returned. On reflection, she had no idea what she would have done if he had. It was the thought of going to bed, falling asleep, only to have him banging at the door or worse. Having finally gone up to her room and got off to sleep she had been woken, seemingly only minutes later, by the now familiar events of her recurring dream. The cold, reliable precision of the adjacent glowing red digits gave her the bad news that it was 3.46am and she rolled over, plunging her face into the pillow with a groan. As the perspiration cooled on her skin an insistent, throbbing pain made itself known, somewhere behind her eyes. Then awareness of a dry, furry mouth accompanied by the sour taste of stale brandy brought a grimace to her face. With difficulty, she sat up and rested her head on her knees. “Kyle Lucas, if ever I see you again, you’ll pay for this!” she murmured.

Feeling like a zombie, Bella had eventually surfaced on the Saturday just before 10am. It had taken several minutes in the shower for her to feel anything like approaching reasonable and the day had proceeded from thereon in a state of slow motion. Even the cat had kept its distance, sensing that Bella was not her normal self. There were things she had wanted to do, like talk to Jane, phone her mother or clean the windows but she knew she was too fragile to undertake anything that involved either clear thinking or any strenuous activity. Even the thought of writing just produced a hollow laugh. Her eyes were too gritty to concentrate on the screen and her brain would not cope with the challenge. Not wishing her peace to be disturbed, she switched on the answerphone. The day slipped past and Bella tried to make sure it progressed as painlessly as possible. It was impossible to keep her thoughts from returning to the events of the previous evening and she couldn’t help but feel that she was lucky not too have been physically attacked by her visitor. Recalling the look on his face made her shiver, even now. How could someone change like that, she wondered. He seemed so strong, his personality that is, yet he had a considerate side to him too. But the unrestrained violence in his anger was frightening. As