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

was enough to set Jane off and she was rolling around in the armchair.

“Is that what he said?” She couldn’t contain herself. “Samuel Handysides, indeed. Now if that’s not straight out of Thomas Hardy, I don’t know what is!”

“But that’s it, exactly!” Bella cried. “Things haven’t changed round here, in years. Especially the clientele at The Lamb!”

“We are going to this museum, I take it, sometime over the weekend, are we?”

“Definitely,” Bella enthused, “it’s part of the grand tour, so be prepared.” Jane was shaking her head, in disbelief.

“What’s the matter?

“It’s just the thought of Bella Foxton, one-time queen of London’s night life, being tucked away in Turnip Land.”

“Jane! I wish you wouldn’t refer to Knapthorne as Turnip Land.”

“Well, sorry darling but by your description it doesn’t sound as though I’m far wrong, does it?”

“That was only my first impression,” she replied, defensively. “Here have another drink.”

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 Bella described her second visit to the cottage, and to The Lamb, and Jane was thinking that perhaps she had been a little hasty in giving Knapthorne its title. Then she heard about Mrs. Flint.

“Bella, darling, this is outrageous! If I didn’t know you, I’d think you were making all this up. Samuel Handysides, Cora Flint. What are you worrying about your book for. You’ve got a novel unfolding under your nose, by the sounds of it!” She looked thoughtful, for a moment. “But tell me more about this solicitor, fellow…”

“No, not yet, because what you’ve just said might be truer than you think.” The humour went from Jane’s face, at Bella’s statement.

“How d’you mean?”

“On that first visit to the pub, I got the definite impression that our frosty reception was, in part, something to do with this place…”

“Turnip Cott….sorry, Bell. Willow Cottage?”

“Yes. Don’t ask me why. It was just a feeling. Sixth sense, that sort of thing, and both of us felt the same. Then there was this real odd guy, kinda creepy, you know?”

“What sort of creepy? Creepy sleazy, creepy nerdy, creepy strange. Stop me and try one.”

“Creepy, strange, I suppose you’d say. The landlord said he’d been involved in an accident on the farm, brain damage or something…”

“What about him?” Jane asked, beginning to get excited. “Did he try coming on to you, or what?” Bella shot Jane an extremely disparaging look.

“Jane, do you have to bring everything back to sex?”

“Well, that’s how everything starts, darling. What d’you expect?” Although she said nothing, Bella realised that Jane hadn’t attempted to look at her watch, yet. A promising sign.

“Where was I?”

“Creepy, strange…”

“Oh, that’s right. Alfie, his name is, and he sort of keeps hinting that he knows something about the cottage.

“What do you mean, sort of keeps hinting? This’d never stand up in a court of law, you know.”

“Well, that’s just it. It depends which way you take what he says. Never mind, you’ll be able to see for yourself, tomorrow, probably.”

“How come?” Jane sounded a little nervous. Like, maybe, her and Alfie were going to be left alone somewhere.

“He does odd jobs around the pub, so he’s bound to be there.”

“How old is this Alfie?”

“Difficult to say. Somewhere between forty and fifty-five, possibly. Oh, and I forgot, he’s Cora Flint’s brother.” Jane looked absolutely astonished at this bit of news.

“If I were you, darling, I’d get writing straight away. With these characters to hand, even if there wasn’t some dark secret to Willow Cottage it would be worthwhile inventing one, don’t you agree?”

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“We had dinner at an old country pub, before he ran me back to pick up my car.” At Jane’s insistence, Bella had related details of the day she and Ben had spent together, on her first visit to Knapthorne, with Jane hungry for any juicy titbits of information about Ben. It was dark outside now and Bella had pulled the curtains and switched on two of the lamps, to create a cosy atmosphere.

“And that was it?” Jane sounded disappointed, to say the least.

“I’ve been to his office and we had lunch after, nothing more.” Jane sat back in her chair, shaking her head in disbelief.

“You’re losing your touch, Foxton, without a doubt…”

“He’s a married man, Jane!” Bella reminded her.

“He’s a man, that’s the point. Handsome and well-heeled, by the sound of it, and unhappy.”

“That’s his story. Anyway, he’s not out of the frame. He’s very keen to come down here and see me…”

“I bet he is,” Jane interrupted, with a hollow laugh. “Great place for an away game, miles away from his home ground. He’d be away laughing!” Bella was laughing, too.

“You’re incorrigible, you really are. I’ve told him I don’t want anything serious and that I’d like us to be friends.” Jane hooted with laughter at that.

“And he was happy with that, was he?”

“He’s going to have to be. I’ve got to concentrate on the book and I can do without any diversions. Well, as few as possible. And certainly no complications, like an affair with a married man.”

“Why not just consider it an expression of your artistic temperament, darling?” Jane suggested, holding her empty glass out for a refill. “That you need to be fulfilled, in order to be creative,” she added, dramatically, with a theatrical gesture.

“Shut up, and drink this,” Bella instructed, handing her the glass back as Jane looked at the space where her watch usually was. “Anyway, I haven’t told you about Kyle yet!”

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“And you say he’s a tv producer?” The journey down after a long day, plus the wine, had mellowed Jane and she had listened, with interest, as Bella recounted the story of how her shopping trip had ended in disaster. Then she told how Kyle had come to the rescue.

“Yes. Based in Bristol. And,” she said, drawing the word out for effect then pausing for a moment, “this one’s not married.” Jane stifled a yawn, suddenly feeling very tired. Bella had wanted to tell her about Cora Flint coming back, and then explain about the cat but she could see her friend was having trouble staying awake.

“I think that’s enough