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

agitated and in no mood to hear anything but the truth. “I’ll keep my promise to you as long as you don’t leave anything out. There is something, isn’t there?” Reluctantly, Samuel nodded.

“When ‘e first started comin’ ‘ere, everythin’ was fine, when folks didn’t really know ‘im. Patrick could be a real charmer, when ‘e wanted to an’ that was part of the trouble.”

“How do you mean?”

“I’m sorry to say this, Miss Foxton, but you wants me to be straight with you. Your father was a terrible one with the girls, ‘ad a wanderin’ eye if you gets my meanin’. It was even rumoured, at one time, that he’d got a lass from round this way into trouble.” Sensing the agonies that Samuel was suffering through having to tell her such things, Bella wished that she could reveal to him that Patrick wasn’t her father. Even if she could, she knew that now was not the time. She had to hear him out.

“Like I was about to say earlier, a few folks drifted in before lunch. There was a cattle auction or somethin’ close by so it ‘ad the makin’s of a good day.” The life had gone out of his voice, she noticed, the way it does when people are talking of some terrible accident or tragedy. “They were all from the village, ‘cept for one, a lad from Thornden, over the way. All of ‘em was in good spirits an’ they were makin’ a bit of a racket but as soon as ’e threw the door open an’ they caught sight of ‘im, it was like someone had switched the sound off. Only for a couple of seconds, mind, ‘cos then all ‘ell broke loose!” He could picture it in his mind still, so vividly, even after all these years, only now it all seemed to be happening in slow motion.

“Who, Sam?” Who was it?” she whispered, not wanting to disturb his concentration.

“Alfie.” Samuel turned his sad eyes on her. “The lad were in a terrible state, real agitated like an’ fightin’ for breath, ‘is face red as a beetroot. The poor bugger were about done for, ‘aving run all the way across the fields.” A wave of nausea swept over Bella as a pattern began to form in her mind. Whatever had happened, had taken place in Willow Cottage. The nebulous feelings of uncertainty and concern that had been dogging her had abruptly turned into something more identifiable. Cold, dark tentacles of fear and revulsion reached out from within and she had to fight the urge to cover her ears and block out the sound of Samuel’s voice.

“I ain’t never seen anyone so distressed as that lad. He were cryin’ an’ shoutin’ an’ wavin’ ‘is arms all about, til Tiny took ahold o’ him and give ‘im a good shake. Alfie calmed down a bit then. Not a lot, mind. 'What is it Alfie? What’s ‘appened?' Tiny says to him, an’ the lad just gave out this awful cry, like a mortally wounded hanimal. 'It’s Ruthy, up at the cottage,' he cries. 'I think she’s dead!'

Samuel Handysides was on his feet and at Bella’s side immediately he saw her face.

“You alright, Miss Foxton? You’ve gone awful pale.” He bent down, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Would you like me to stop? It don’t make pleasant ‘earin’, what I’ve got to say.” She gave his hand a sympathetic squeeze and looked up into his eyes.

“No, I’ll be fine, honestly. It’s just a bit of a shock, that’s all.”

“How about another cup o’ tea then?”

“That’s very sweet of you, Samuel. Maybe when you’ve finished, eh?” You might be needin’ somethin’ a little stronger than that by the time this is over, he thought to himself. “You sit back down and carry on. Don’t worry about me.” He did as she asked, knowing that it was going to get more difficult for both of them. Painful as it was for him to relive the events of that dreadful day he could only imagine what might be going through her mind. Why hadn’t she just let things be? It was too late now, of course. Best just to carry on and get it done with.

“We were out o’ that bar in no time.” Samuel picked up the story where he’d left off, remembering Cora Flint’s reaction when she had come into the bar and seen the state of her brother. “Poor Cora near collapsed at the sight of Alfie. She and two other girls had been ‘elping out in the kitchen.” He searched his memory. “Doris Fairweather and Maud Baker I thinks it was. Anyways, I told ‘em to look after Cora and went off with the lads. Vic Sparrow ‘ad his car outside an’ Alfie, Tiny an’ someone else I can’t recall piles in with ‘im, the others hopping into my old Morris along with me and we followed Vic, as he took off. Miss Foxton, I’m a-tellin’ you it were like one o’ them police chases you sees on the tele, me in the Morris tearin’ after Vic in ‘is Austin Metropolitan, both of us drivin’ like we was on a racetrack. I ain’t never got to Willow Cottage so quick, neither before nor since.”

“What time of day was this, Samuel?” Bella was trying to form an accurate picture in her own mind, as he spoke.

“Round about eleven-thirty, I think it were, an’ the first thing we sees is a car parked outside. There weren’t a bloke among us didn’t know whose it was…” He was unable to continue, unwilling to take the final step and they looked at each other across the silence that separated them. Samuel’s hesitation introduced an immediate air of tension which filled the void and affected Bella dramatically. Biting nervously on her bottom lip, she struggled to swallow but her throat felt constricted, her mouth dry as dust. It seemed as though the very act of breathing had become