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

view that events in her life were presently being driven by some unseen arbiter of destiny and it had a good feel to it. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to see Jane.

But where was she? Bella had been waiting for over twenty minutes, seated at a table outside the small bistro in Covent Garden, and a third latte was out of the question. It was unimaginable to her how anyone could be late for an appointment but Jane seemed to have turned it into an art form. She took out the small mirror from her bag and checked her hair and make-up, once again. A waiter, who had never taken his eyes off her since she arrived, came over to the table once more but Bella waved him away brusquely as she spotted Jane approaching through the lunchtime crowd, not that it was difficult. Her editor was small in stature and quite rotund, like one of those toys that you can’t knock over and always bounces back, and she dressed with a flamboyance that was legendary throughout the industry. The brighter, the better, was Jane’s motto.

“Darling! How lovely to see you. You’re looking eminently shaggable! If I was a fella and you were mine, I couldn’t leave you alone!” It was so good to see her, Bella’s annoyance at her late arrival was immediately forgotten as Jane threw her arms around Bella’s neck and kissed her lightly on both cheeks. “Have you been here long? You’d never believe the trouble I had trying to get away,” she exclaimed, pulling up a chair. She was like a mini-tornado, never still, and the first thing she did, once she was seated, was to light up a cigarette. Bella had long ago given up expecting Jane to apologise for her lateness, accepting it as part of her character. There were not many people that she would have forgiven for committing such a cardinal sin but Jane had become part of her life. Not only was she a good friend but she also had a heart of gold so Bella was prepared to overlook her blind spot regarding punctuality.

“Well,” Jane enthused, emitting a cloud of smoke, “what’s new in the life of Bella Foxton? I don’t seem to have seen you for absolutely ages!” Bella couldn’t help but smile. Jane was one of the few people that she knew who was unnerringly constant. She effervesced. If ever Bella needed cheering up, she only had to ring Jane and talk to her and the woman was like a tonic, full of life and vitality. As an editor she was an absolute gem, one of the best in the business, combining an earthy bluntness, often bordering on vulgarity, with flashes of literary inspiration that were an object lesson to her clients.

“I’m thinking of moving to the country,” Bella announced, without preamble. Jane peered over the top of her glasses, her small eyes boring into Bella.

“You’re what?” Her surprise was evident. “Which country?” Bella laughed.

“The country, Jane, as in Dorset.”

“Dorset!”  Jane echoed. “Shit, Bella, why Dorset? I can’t see you as the Mayoress of Casterbridge, somehow!” She was obviously enjoying herself but Bella was not going to rise to Jane’s sarcasm. “Dorset?”  Jane repeated, suddenly looking serious. “You are going to continue writing, darling, aren’t you?” she said, earnestly. “ I mean, you’re not going to take up basket-weaving or something?”

“Jane!” Bella was beyond expostulation, the tone of her voice indicating that her patience was being tested.

“Alright, alright! So, explain.” But before Bella had a chance to speak, Jane’s expression of curiosity was replaced by something more decisive. “No, don’t. Not yet, at least. Let’s order. I’m famished.” Bella was bursting to tell Jane her news but knew that food was the singular most important thing in Jane’s life and therefore resigned herself to waiting until they had both ordered from the menu.

As usual, the area was a hive of activity, a perfect place for watching the world go by and that’s exactly what Bella did while Jane greedily scanned the menu. It was a cloudy day but warm enough to bring out a sprinkling of shirtleeves and summer dresses as the cosmopolitan throng moved to and fro in an ever-changing tableau. Seduced by the warmth of the sun, the low-key babble of conversation and the sound of mandolin music drifting out from the bistro, Bella closed her eyes and soaked up the atmosphere in a state of total relaxation. The image of Ben’s smiling face came to mind, his dimples making him look even more attractive.

“Here, take that smile off your face and order something.” Jane’s voice gatecrashed her daydream, ruining the illusion. “And whoever you’re dreaming of, stop it at once, you’re making me jealous.” She opened her eyes to find Jane holding out the menu. “Make your choice, then tell me about Dorset. I’m all ears! There isn’t a man involved somewhere, is there?” Bella shook her head although it wasn’t strictly true but she had no intention of discussing Ben with her editor. Jane was a stranger to the mysteries of love, as nature had been less than kind to her and it would be handling the truth somewhat carelessly to suggest she was attractive. Throughout their friendship she had obtained a vicarious pleasure from Bella’s love life and frequently railed against the unfairness of life whereby Bella had goddess-like qualities while she, in her own words, looked like one half of a condiment set. It saddened Bella to see how Jane would throw herself at far younger men, in a frenzied burst of sexual activity, as if to try and prove something to herself, when what she really wanted was a good, honest man to love her for what she was. But Jane always made light of it, invariably poking fun at herself, yet Bella knew that underneath the bluster and occasional coarseness, was a sad, unfulfilled woman who was rapidly approaching her fortieth birthday. Bella ordered tuna and bean