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

her to smile to herself as she closed the door of her apartment behind her. Reflecting on the day out with Ben Hollingsworth, which she had just enjoyed, she leaned against the door and considered her good fortune. The helicopter trip had been amazing, all the more so because it was totally unexpected, and then there was the cottage. What a treasure! She still couldn’t really believe that it was hers but an undercurrent of excitement continued to ripple through her at the thought of it and later she could scroll though all the photos she had captured on her phone. Bella's smile faded slightly at the memory of The Lamb, and their experience there, but time had served to put it into a perhaps more relevant perspective, somewhat smoothing out the rough edges of their visit. Maybe, she pondered, things would be different when she went back there, as indeed she would. With a little shove, she pushed herself away from the door while considering Ben Hollingsworth. They had got on well, of that there was no doubt, and she had to agree with Ben’s parting comment that it had seemed like they’d known each other for years rather than having just met. Would she see him again, though? Bella thought it over as she went to the kitchen and picked up the portable phone. There was no doubt in her mind she wanted to but she wasn’t desperate to get into a serious relationship. The cottage was her priority for now and the thought of it excited her immensely. “Who’s a lucky girl, then?” she said to herself, with a grin, as she accessed her answering machine.

“Bella, darling, it’s Jane!” The brief greeting introduced the first message and she recognised immediately the cultured voice of her editor. Jane Symington-Bentley had been her mentor and friend for over five years now and she had a good idea why Jane was calling. Still in a state of euphoria from the trip, she listened as Jane requested that they meet as soon as possible and Bella was certain that she wanted the meeting in order to discuss the next book. It was something Bella had been avoiding while knowing that the inevitability of the situation would catch up with her eventually. However, she was determined to let nothing spoil her mood and she made a mental note to ring Jane the following day then listened to the two remaining messages, neither of which were of any great significance. Eager to change into something more casual, she went first to her bedroom and emerged a few minutes later in a sloppy white sweatshirt and faded jeans. As usual, in the apartment, she wore nothing on her feet. She was anxious to get on the computer and record the notes she had made about the cottage and the events in the pub. Diarying her experiences was something Jane had suggested to her and it had become an invaluable tool allowing her to draw on real-life to give substance to her characters. Now, seated at the keyboard in her study, the notes at her side, she closed her eyes and began to relive the individual events she had recorded. As she sat, motionless, retracing her steps through the cottage, she could remember it as clearly as if she were actually there, similarly the events in the pub. Using the notes as a guide she would picture the situation in her mind, explore it fully, then open her eyes to key a thumbnail sketch into the computer. Although the dichotomy of the locations was obvious, something strange occurred when she pictured the hallway on the landing, in the cottage. Suddenly, Alfie’s face superimposed itself and she couldn’t shake the image until she opened her eyes, blinking in the light. Then again, a little later, when she had closed her eyes once more to recall the scene in the pub, and visualised the face of Samuel Handysides, a picture of the kitchen in the cottage came to mind. Bella stifled a yawn, looking at the clock on the wall, and discovered that it was getting on for 10pm. All of a sudden she felt exhausted and put the confused imagery down to her tiredness. If Ben hadn’t have insisted on taking her out for a meal when they got back to Stansted, she would have been home long ago. But it had been a wonderful day, and it had seemed a pity to have it end too soon so she had given in to him. Her thoughts strayed to Ben, as she switched off the computer and turned out the light before leaving the study. She wasted no time in getting ready for bed and, as she looked in the mirror while removing her make-up, she had cause to wonder, once again, what he would look like naked.

The atmosphere in Covent Garden, with its colourful mix of cafes and shops, bold architecture and an ever-changing ebb and flow of visitors usually energised Bella but the weekend had sown the seeds of discontent. This morning she had woken up, fully refreshed by a good night’s sleep, relishing the meeting with Jane because the prospect of writing a new book would mean working from the cottage. While standing under the shower and submitting herself to the pummelling of the water jets, it was as if an outer layer of herself had been stripped away, much the same as a moth emerging from a chrysalis. The dead shell represented the life she had been leading in London while the Bella that stepped from the shower cubicle had undergone a subtle transformation into a writer wanting to take her art more seriously. As she towelled herself down vigorously, the voice of Phil Collins serenaded her from the radio bringing back memories of a Genesis concert many years ago. Abruptly, she stopped what she was doing. Genesis, a new beginning. It summed up her feelings exactly and reinforced Bella’s