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

“I do miss him, you know,” Bella admitted, wistfully.

“He was a lovely man. I often thought I should have married him and not your father…”

“Why do you say that?”

“It’s nothing to bother your pretty head about, only the rantings of a lonely old lady.”

“Mother! You’re not even sixty. And as for being lonely, I’ve never known anybody with as many friends as you. Anyway, talking about my father, I’d like to know more about him sometime…”

“One day, cara mio, one day.” It was the answer she always gave and Bella didn’t pursue it.

“…well, I’ve got a busy day ahead of me so I’d better get up. Let me know when you want to come over, hm?”

“I will. You look after yourself, eh? Ciao!

Bella was incensed! Bloody Laura! Why did she always have to be stirring up trouble? She sat at her dressing table, clad only in her sheer silk nightdress, furiously tugging a brush through her hair as her mind seethed over her sister. I might have known she’d do something like this, Bella thought, in exasperation, though quite what Laura had hoped to achieve she had no idea. Laura and her mother had never got on that well, even before Laura left home. Now, they were almost strangers. It was obvious, Bella reasoned, that her sister’s nose was well out of joint over the cottage and that was only likely to mean more problems. If only Liam were alive! He would have no trouble sorting her out. Laura had thought the world of Liam because he didn’t make fun of her, like the rest of the boys, and he always had time to listen to her problems. One thing with Laura was that she could never disguise her feelings, especially with regard to Liam, and, Bella recalled,  you only had to look at her eyes when he came into the room to see how she felt. Knowing how close they had been, she had thought it odd that Laura hadn’t bothered to go to New York and see him when he was dying. But that was Laura, strange and unpredictable. She felt the beginnings of a headache and closed her eyes, briefly. Not today, please, she prayed silently. Sometimes when she sensed a headache coming on it was through the need for food. Although that was unlikely first thing in the morning, the idea of an early breakfast appealed as it might help get her day back on track. As she got up from the dressing table, Bella was determined not to let the thought of Laura spoil things for her. What she needed to do was focus on the important things in her own life, now that everything was coming together so nicely, and not let her sister upset her. If Laura persisted in making a nuisance of herself then she would have to have it out with her, once and for all. The trouble was, she had always felt desperately sorry for her sister and would have given anything to have had a normal relationship with her. Thinking about this, as she removed a short cotton robe from her wardrobe and put it on, took her way back to their childhood, and it was difficult to remember Laura as being anything other than short-tempered and spiteful. A fleeting thought occurred to her then, as often happened, that if she were seeking material for a book she probably had more than an ample sufficiency right on her own doorstep. Little did she know how right she was.

Nothing much ever got Bella down for long. It wasn’t in her nature to let things bother her unnecessarily and if a situation persisted she would try and bring it to a sensible conclusion as quickly as possible. By sheer force of will power she stopped thinking about Laura and let herself concentrate on the exciting prospect of going back to the cottage. Her plan had been to rise early, pick up some lunch from the deli round the corner and get away as soon as possible. Being a Saturday morning, traffic would be heavy and she wanted to give herself plenty of time, not having done the journey by road. She estimated it would take her around three hours to get there and she wanted to waste no time in setting out. It was funny how she couldn’t think about the cottage without being reminded of Ben. Now, the more she thought about last weekend, the more she realised how much she had enjoyed being with him. And she was starting to miss the physical contact of a man, something that she could never starve herself of for very long. If she were honest, the meeting with Jane had unsettled her and forced her to think more positively about getting into a relationship. Although she was younger than her editor by at least four or five years, Bella had already experienced the difficulty, as she had grown older, of meeting men of a suitable age who hadn’t got some kind of emotional baggage weighing them down. She had learned the hard way that it was best to strike out the words ‘Help carry your bags, sir?’ from her emotional phrasebook.

Breakfast, followed by a shower, restored her sense of well-being and the headache had eased. Now, all she wanted to do was get on the road, as soon as possible. Eager to get the cottage looking the way she wanted and with a deadline to meet for her next book it was all the incentive she needed to get cracking. Selecting something to wear was easy. In common with most women, Bella enjoyed dressing up. Every little part of it, from painting her toenails to choosing the right lingerie, trying on one garment after another then picking the right accessories. It was part of the female ritual, a mystery to most men, as was the application