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

“Whose was it Samuel?” she asked, eventually, in a voice no more than a whisper. “Who did that car belong to?” He was reluctant to answer but she knew from his grim expression and the sadness in his eyes what his reply was going to be. When the landlord of The Lamb finally found his voice, it was laced with a mixture of sympathy and regret.

“It were your father’s, Miss Foxton. It were Patrick’s car we found outside o' Willow Cottage.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Patrick’s blue Ford Anglia could have been there for any number of reasons, as Bella was well aware, but a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach told her that its presence somehow implicated the car’s owner in the events that were unfolding. Silently, she thanked God for Maria’s visit. Knowing that Patrick was not her father moved her one step away from the unthinkable emotional involvement of discovering something awful about the man. Besides, she had the calming knowledge that her actual father was a kind, decent and well-respected person. That reason alone helped Bella regain her self-control. What was really troubling her was the thought of what had gone on at Willow Cottage, the place that she had come to love and think of as home. Was the dream about to be shattered? It was too horrible to contemplate. In addition, her heart went out to Samuel and the agonies he must be suffering in recounting what must be one of the darkest moments of Knapthorne’s history, all the time thinking that Patrick was her father. But Samuel, in turn, had been heartened somewhat by the way that Bella had received the news about her father’s car. The sheer fact of it being there, given what had gone before, didn’t look good but she was holding up remarkably well under the circumstances.

“I’m sorry to ‘ave to tell you but this is where things gets really bad, Miss Foxton.” He eased himself forward to the edge of the cushion and leaned forward, speaking earnestly.

“I ‘as to ask you, once again, do you swear not to repeat anythin’ you ‘ears in this room to anyone? I can’t tell you how important it is you stands by what you says. When I’ve finished a-tellin’ you, there’ll be no goin’ back on your word.” Only then did she fully realise what it must have taken for him to resurrect the past, for her benefit, and the immense stress he had to be under. There could be no underestimating the gravity of the situation.

“I give you my word, Samuel. Whatever I find out will go no further, I promise you.”

“On that wild drive up to the cottage, the lads had somehow got the story out of Alfie. I don’t knows how ‘cause he were a right mess. No more than a babblin’ idiot.” Samuel paused, shaking his head at the memory. Struggling with his own emotions he was unable to look Bella in the eye and it was some seconds before he could continue.

“Young Alfie were never the brightest but ‘e were a good worker an’ always ‘ad a smile on ‘is face. For ever forgettin’ things that boy!” The landlord smiled at some long-forgotten recollection but didn’t share it. As the smile faded he appeared almost reluctant to continue and Bella realised he was close to tears, the images from that tragic day imprinted on his mind as clearly as if they had happened recently rather than all those long years ago.

“Take your time, Samuel. It’s alright,” Bella murmured, sympathetically. “I understand, I really do.” He gave her a token smile and took a deep breath, taking strength from how well she seemed to be holding up, given the situation.

“The lad ‘ad forgotten ‘is lunch, an’ ‘e’d gone back to the cottage to fetch it, an’ comin’ in through the back way ‘e never saw Patrick’s car. When ‘e gets in the kitchen, ‘e ‘ears noises from upstairs. Ruthy’s bedroom was right above, you see.” It was all too easy for Bella to see. To imagine the scene, picturing Alfie in the kitchen, her  kitchen, staring up at the ceiling and wondering what was going on. She was there with him now, waiting to follow his movements. Waiting for Samuel to continue.

“Then ‘e hears more noises, a-crashin’ an’ a-bangin’ like, which don’t sound like Ruthy at all, so ‘e rushes off to find out what’s goin’ on.” In his discomfort, he shuffled nervously on the settee, clasping his hands together and wringing them in a display of uneasiness. Bella wasn’t in any better state, her breathing shallow and ragged, waiting to find out what Alfie would discover.

“As ‘e gets to the top o’ the stairs ‘e can ‘ear a man’s voice shoutin’ an’ hollerin’ an’ he runs along the landin’, to Ruthy’s room, knowin’ there’s somethin’ badly wrong. What ‘e sees from the doorway nearly stops his ‘eart dead.” Samuel lifted his head so that he was looking directly into Bella’s eyes. Time seemed to stop still, as if it were holding its breath waiting for him to speak. When he did, his voice was so small, so quiet, she could only just hear him.

“Patrick, your father, is on top of our Ruthy with ‘is ‘ands around her throat, shakin’ ‘er like she’s a rag doll. All ‘er clothes is about ripped off. She gives one wild, terrified glance at Alfie when she sees ‘im at the door, then ‘er eyes rolled back.”

Bella was in shock, a hand covering her mouth, as she tried to absorb what she had just heard. Anything she might have imagined, any conclusions she had drawn from what she had heard earlier hadn’t prepared her for this. Patrick a murderer? Ruthy Flint killed in that small bedroom at the end of the hallway? Right here in Willow Cottage! Her lovely, special Willow Cottage! Without warning, she got up and lurched to the front door, just managing to open it