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

and stagger outside before being violently sick. Bent over the flower bed, coughing and spluttering, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning her head very slightly she saw Samuel but was unable to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Foxton. So very, very sorry it ‘ad to ‘appen this way.” It seemed the worst was over but she remained bent double, trying to catch her breath and putting a hand over Samuel’s. At last, she had recovered enough to stand upright but felt shaky and light-headed.

“Feelin’ a bit better, now?” Genuinely concerned, Samuel wasn’t quite sure what to do for the best. Bella nodded, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. “What about that cup o’ tea?” Her stomach heaved at the thought.

“Perhaps a small glass of milk thanks, Samuel.” She breathed out, heavily, the sour, bitter taste in her mouth making her screw her eyes up in revulsion. “I’d better go upstairs and freshen up. Excuse me a moment won’t you? And don’t worry. I’ll be alright.” When she was halfway up the stairs she thought of Alfie, on that awful day, hearing the sound of Patrick’s voice coming from Ruth Flint’s room. Reaching the top of the stairs, a powerful compulsion drew her along the hallway, past the bathroom, to the small bedroom at the end on the right. She stood in the doorway, as Alfie must have stood rooted to the spot by what had confronted him. In the dim light of the cool room she spied the small vase on the chest of drawers, the long-dead flowers hanging limp and lifeless over its sides. Cora’s touching memorial to her young, sweet sister, which turned the room into a permanent shrine to her memory, hadn’t been tended for two weeks. Bella stood transfixed by the scene, tears streaming down her face. Tears for Ruthy, for Cora and for Alfie. Tears, too, for her Willow Cottage, which would never be the same again.

“Oh, Samuel it’s all too ghastly. Too horrible for words!” They had resumed their seats, Samuel having made himself a cup of tea and brought Bella her glass of milk. Plucking a tissue from the box she had placed on the table, next to her, she blew her nose. She wore no make-up and he couldn’t help but notice her red-rimmed eyes when she had returned from upstairs. Samuel was long past getting into a fuss over a pretty girl but even he couldn’t help but be affected by the combination of her extraordinary looks and the aura of vulnerability that now surrounded her. Only after he had been watching for some time did he realise that he had been staring at her. In an attempt to cover his embarrassment, he put a question to her.

“Are you up to hearing the rest?” She gave a weak smile.

“I don’t know Sam,” she replied, her voice trembling with emotion. “I only knows I got to, having come this far. Times a-getting’ on,” he commented, looking at his watch, “so I’ll try and keep it short…”

“How did Patrick die, then?” she broke in, wanting to know that more than anything else and assuming it must have happened as a result of the scene at the cottage. Her anxiety to know obliterated every other thought from her mind.

“A little patience, Miss Foxton, an' I’ll get there as quick as I can.” Settling himself back into the settee, hopeful the worst was over, he prepared to resume his story.

“Alfie launched ‘imself at Patrick but ‘e weren’t as big or as strong as your father, ‘specially as your father were rantin’ and ravin’. They struggled briefly and ‘e lands a big punch on Alfie, knockin’ ‘im down, then takes off. Patrick’s disappeared by the time Alfie gets to ‘is feet an’ the poor lad can’t take ‘is eyes off his sister. I reckons ‘e’d seen her die at the ‘ands of your father. When ‘e comes to ‘is senses, ‘e dashes out the room to get ‘elp and, going down the stairs ‘e ‘ears Patrick a-trying to start the car. By the time ‘e gets outside, the car’s still there but there’s no sign of your father.” Bella couldn’t help but think back to the first time she’d seen Alfie, when she and Ben had gone to The Lamb. Who would ever have guessed what he’d been through. You just never knew with people, she conceded. Briefly she thought of Ben. What had happened to him? Mirroring her environment, her life had taken on the profile of a country lane with all its twists and turns and she had cause to wonder if anyone was really who they appeared to be on the surface.

“By the time we arrived,” Samuel continued, “we was too late to do anythin’ for poor Ruthy. We were devastated, ‘eartbroken to see the state of ‘er. Shortly after we got there, the bloke from Thornden turns up. When ‘e finds out what’s gone on, ‘e takes off again, straight away, without a word to anyone. He knows very square inch round about, see, cos he's the gamekeeper on the Estate. Always 'as 'is shotgun with 'im, most like 'is dog 'an all. While we was trying to get over the shock an’ get ourselves organised this bloke’s let his dog loose in Patrick’s car then set ‘im off after the scent. Alfie were in a terrible way, 'aving been…what’s the word they uses now”

“Traumatised?” Bella suggested, quietly.

“Aye, that’s the one. Poor bugger never recovered from the shock o’ what ‘e saw. Alfie weren’t exactly the full quid before but this sent ‘im proper doolally, it did.”

“And, presumably, the man who went after Patrick caught up with him.” Bella spoke unemotionally, her voice calm and restrained.

“That ‘e did, Miss Foxton. That ‘e did.” The look on Samuel’s face was softer, more relaxed, the tension having gone now that the mountain had been scaled. “The bloke caught up with ‘im in less than an ‘our. Patrick had turned ‘is ankle,