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

just it. The cat suddenly appeared the last time I came down and disappeared just as mysteriously. Now its come back and seems to have taken an instant dislike to Mr. Lucas….”

“Is it a dark-coloured cat, kind of big-lookin’?” Cora Flint’s eyes narrowed, as though she either knew or suspected something. It reminded Bella of Alfie’s manner, in The Lamb.

“Yes, it is. Do you know who it belongs to?” For the briefest of moments, Mrs. Flint’s face mirrored the fact that the answer confirmed something, then her features settled back into their normal stony-faced attitude.

“Fraid not, Miss Foxton. You got me there good and proper. Just thought I might ‘ave seen it around, that’s all. Is there anythin’ you wants me to do for you, bein’ as you might be a bit incapacitated, so to speak? That’s why I came.” Bella demurred but Kyle had read the situation without too much difficulty.

“I think Miss Foxton is still feeling the effects of the accident. It might be wiser if you could call back tomorrow.”  Bella could have kissed him as Cora Flint drew her stomach in and squared her shoulders.

“Wiser?” she repeated, as if the word was distasteful, then thought about what Kyle Lucas had said. “As you wish, I’ll call on you tomorrow!” With a flourish of her long black skirt, she swept out of the room, head held high.

“What the hell was that all about?” Kyle was staring at her, in disbelief, his reaction the same as her own the first time she had met the woman.

“I’m not sure,” Bella replied, “but she frightens the shit out of me!” Kyle couldn’t help laughing.

“I take it you’re feeling a bit better, then?”

“Yes, I am, thanks mainly to you. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without you. Now, let me take a look at that hand of yours.”

On her second visit to the house, Bella had discovered a first-aid kit in the bathroom. Kyle went up and fetched it, insisting that she remain where she was and just rest. On his own for a moment, he reflected on the fact that something was making him feel vaguely uneasy but was unable to put his finger on it. Dismissing it as unimportant, he located the kit and returned downstairs, It was a simple matter to fix his hand, then Bella suggested they have something to eat as she was starving. On the short journey back from the village they had talked mainly about the accident, so neither of them knew much about the other although each of them was dying to find out. Especially Bella, who didn’t want to let this gift from the Gods disappear without knowing anything about him. Had he said that he’d grown up round here? She couldn’t remember. And if he had, did that imply that he no longer lived in the locality? In her experience, she’d found that married men have a certain aura about them, and she could generally pick it, but there was no evidence of this with Kyle. Now that she was feeling a whole lot better, his sudden intervention in her life had begun to have an effect on her outlook. With a man in her life, things would be so different. It might even inspire her. The fact that she needed to be loved, in the most physical sense, could propel her into recklessness as it had done in the past and she gave a fleeting thought to Jane, and her gut-wrenching emotional dramas, and had not a little sympathy for her. To hell with caution, she thought. He’s too bloody good-looking.

Bella put the items she had bought from the deli out on the table while she heated the pita bread in the microwave.

“I can’t be too long,” Kyle told her. “I’ve got to be in London by six.” And I’ve got to find out more about you before I go, he told himself.

“Business or pleasure?” she asked, angling.

“Business.” His smile revealed even, white teeth. “I’ve got a script to take a look at.” Her ears pricked up at the mention of the word.

“A script? What sort of work do you do?” Excitement slowly began to build within her, although she couldn’t really explain why. It was like an hour-glass filling with sand.

“I’ve got a tv production company. We make dramas, documentaries, the odd wildlife programme, that sort of thing.” Now it was Bella’s turn to be impressed. She had been secretly hoping that he wasn’t a management consultant or, heaven forbid, a tax inspector. This really was too good to be true. It cried out for recklessness.

“Your own company? Not a partnership, with your wife, or something?” There, she’d done it, and those amazing eyes of his appeared to see right through her.

“My company. No partnership. No wife. No partner, for that matter,” he said, amiably, as if he was mentioning something inconsequential. In that complicated way that the mind works, instead of being rapt at the news, news she wanted to hear above all else, Bella wondered why he didn’t have a partner. What was wrong with him?

“There’s a simple explanation for that,” he continued, as if she’d put the question to him. “I often work seven days a week and, invariably, long hours. It tends to be anti-social. Believe me, I’m not against the practice though, how about you?” Cleverly, he had turned the tables on her and caught Bella off-guard.

“How do you mean,” she answered, defensively.

“Partners. Do you have one?” For a moment she hesitated, considering her answer, not wishing to make herself seem readily available like the salami at the Greek’s delicatessen.

“If you mean am I married, then the answer is no. A bit like you,” she parried, “I’m a slave to my work.” He loved the delightful curl of her mouth when she smiled.

“Oh? And what work is that?”

 “I’m a writer.” She had her back to him now, taking the pita bread from the microwave, and couldn’t see the narrowing