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

should get Mrs Flint onto it. She could just imagine her striding purposefully forward through the long grass, grim-faced, flame-thrower in hand. Dismissing the thought, she wandered slowly along the overgrown path that led to the line of trees marking the far boundary. The pond that she had first seen from an upstairs window was of free-form design and paved around the edges. Its narrowest point was about four feet across, while it was around six or seven feet in length. Weeds had sprouted through a large crack in the bottom and it looked like many years since it had held water. Beyond it, the path weaved its way through an area which had once been cultivated but was now mostly weeds and that, in turn, led to the small orchard at the end of the garden. Bella had the imagination to visualise what it had once been like and was in no doubt that she wanted to restore it to its former state. Turning back, towards the house, she could picture flower beds, a riot of colour, and a kitchen garden full of herbs to complement the home-grown vegetables. It was exciting and she was looking forward to becoming a part of it all but she was ready to go back now. More than ready in fact but not looking forward to the long drive. The sooner it was over the better.

Chapter Seven

Once Jane had informed her of the deadline for the book, Bella had become acutely aware of how quickly time seemed to pass. It had not been this way with her other novels, none of which had achieved the degree of success of Lingering Doubts. Previously, the publishers had not applied undue pressure to demand that she produced the next book within such a specific time frame. She put it down to the price of success. What was worrying her, more than anything, was that she had no clear idea of what the next book was going to be about. In fact, no idea whatsoever. Lingering Doubts had been a one-off, prompted by a situation that had occurred within her own family and featuring a controversial subject of potent topicality. All the ingredients were there and it seemed to gain a natural momentum of its own. Unfortunately, no such gift was staring her in the face this time and she was becoming increasingly concerned.

Three weeks had passed since Bella’s experience with Cora Flint and the time had simply flown. The meeting with Ben appeared to resolve any outstanding matters with the transfer of title for the property and she was now the owner of Willow Cottage. She’d thanked him for getting the water and electricity sorted in time for her visit and he reminded her that she would now have to budget for the overheads, such as rates, power and maintenance that would be associated with the cottage. He’d also asked, discreetly, when he could see her again, prompting her to apologise for phoning him at such a bad time. He had laughed it off but said she could make up for it by buying him a drink. They’d agreed to have lunch soon and she’d left it with him to contact her but, as yet, he hadn’t called. Since then, she had resolved the matter of the phone with the telephone company feeling reluctant to be entirely dependent on her mobile plus it assured her of a broadband connection. Her agent, Peter Bellamy, had called to say she had a cable tv spot that he’d secured for her, plus she’d been invited to attend a Writer’s Festival in Birmingham, which had, in the end, taken three days out of her calendar. An exciting development which he had also mentioned was that there was interest in making Lingering Doubts into a tv drama. All of this activity brought home to her the need to keep the impetus going, hence the importance of knuckling down to the new book. In her usual fashion, Bella had recorded the best snippets of the recent weekend she had spent in Knapthorne, on her computer. Whether she liked it or not, Cora Flint was going to be cloned somehow, somewhere in Bella’s future scribblings.

Bella stood with her head cocked to one side, the phone held between her ear and shoulder thus freeing her hands so she could finish doing her nails. The secretary had asked her to wait while she checked if Miss Symington-Bentley was free. Bella had decided that it was in her interest to get away from London as soon as possible, in order to focus on the book. The idea of renting the apartment had occurred to her but she felt certain that she’d have to come back to London occasionally and wanted to have it available for her own use. So there was nothing to stop her going. She’d purchased a laptop, printer, modem and scanner, similar to her present set-up, and already loaded the software and files she’d require. After all the fuss from Laura, she’d never heard another thing and hoped that was an end to it. Knowing Laura, though, that was unlikely. One thing she had to do was ring Jane and let her know and she waited patiently for her editor to come on the line. She recalled the lunch, ten days ago, with Jonathan Carey and how pleased he had been for her. There was much about him that reminded her of Rupert, her Uncle Foxy, and he had thought she was doing the right thing, which meant a lot to her. They had always confided in each other, even in matters of great intimacy, and they were comfortable in each others’ company in a way that many married couples weren’t. Jonathan had thought it a great adventure, which was typical of him. He even looked the part of an old swashbuckling pirate, with his pony-tail and single, gold ear-ring. All he needed was a parrot or an eye-patch,