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

so,” Bella told her, as the germ of an idea sowed itself in her mind. “Why don’t I go and see what I can do about some coffee?” It was almost as though Jane hadn’t heard her, as Bella got up from her chair. Samuel Handysides was arranging bottles on one of the lower shelves, behind the bar.

“Samuel, would it be possible to order two coffees, please?” The landlord turned around and stood up.

“Coffees, in a pub, Miss Foxton? Bit unheard of round here.” Bella gave him the smile that had melted harder hearts than his and he didn’t stand a chance.

“Samuel, I would be really grateful,” she purred. Samuel Handysides considered himself a man of the world. He had been up to London, as a young man, and seen some of the goings-on up there. Looking at Bella now, took him back fully forty years and he wished that he were that much younger.

“Samuel?” Bella repeated, softly.

“Yes, Miss Foxton. Two coffees it is. I’ll bring them over to your table.”

Â

After they had left the pub, Bella took Jane on a walk along the main street, pointing out where she had had the accident, then crossing over to take her past the small parade of shops which included the general store. It seemed appropriate to mention the Greek, Paul Aristides, as he had been so helpful and Jane expressed an interest in looking at the deli. Bella suggested walking up to the village green, which was at the junction where the main street ended and calling in at the deli on the way back. The green, with its small pond fringed with trees, was at the top end of the street and looked as though it had remained steadfastly unchanged, over the years, in a world that fed on change as if its future depended on it.

“Isn’t this just heavenly?” Jane said, breathing in deeply and feeling more relaxed than she could remember for a long time. Bella felt good too, though for an entirely different reason. There was a latent excitement brewing slowly within her as her thoughts, like tentacles, reached out to grasp ideas and secure them. Secretly, she wanted to get back and put some of these ideas down on paper before they were forgotten, swallowed up by the business of living. So Jane had provided the key and at last she could begin to work. As they stood looking at the rippling surface of the water with the bright sun reflecting in their eyes, she put her arm around Jane’s pink, nylon shoulder and gave her a hug.

“Thanks for coming down, Jane,” she said, quietly. “You don’t know how much I appreciate it.”

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Â

Chapter Ten

They had each shed tears upon parting, after a weekend that had been good for them both. Jane had recharged her batteries and was looking forward to going back to be with her new man, while Bella welcomed the opportunity to be alone again, confident that she had at last come up with a workable idea. She drew strength from her isolation and the solitude of the cottage comforted her, any concern about vulnerability no longer surfacing. It was as if the transition was complete and the new, repackaged Bella Foxton could begin working. Everything felt so good about being at the cottage that talk of an atmosphere, as Jane had suggested, seemed not only implausible but verging on the theatrical. Bella had first hand experience of Jane’s exceptional ability to finesse a dramatic situation and tap it to its maximum potential. If she could apply this skill to a manuscript, then why not real life? Another of her talents was being able to manufacture truth as Bella liked to call it. Jane could concoct a story with absolute enthusiasm and conviction so that it was utterly convincing. It was Oscar-winning stuff, and Bella just had the feeling that she was a victim of Jane’s artistry. In a less than subtle way, Jane had been trying to create a spark of imagination that Bella could kindle into a creative flame. It brought a smile to her face now, as she sat at the keyboard in front of the blank screen, surrounded by peace and serenity. How anyone could detect an atmosphere in such circumstances was impossible to understand and she dismissed the idea as a contrivance, nothing more than a ploy by a well-meaning friend. It was a defining moment that she would have cause to reflect on many times in the future and to ponder on the observations of her mother’s friend, in Tuscany, all those years ago.

Monday morning was the beginning of a good day at the office, for Bella. Bereft for so long of the opportunity to exercise her brain in the way she most enjoyed, she was like a young chick raised in captivity that had suddenly been released into the wild. Given the chance, she spread her wings and soared. Time and space became meaningless as her world shrunk to the size of the screen in front of her and her brain fizzed and sparked with the challenge of it. Comforted only by a bottomless coffee mug and the ever-present cat, whom she had christened Ubix, asleep at her feet, Bella slipped comfortably into the role of writer. Immersing herself gently into the complexities of grammar, construction and plot she familiarised herself with the tools of her trade as if she were greeting old friends at a school reunion. Hunger finally drove her to stop, lean back in her chair, and stretch her arms up and out wide. After a moment’s reflection, with her eyes closed, she leaned forward on the desk, head in hands. The smallest sound, that of the wind rustling the leaves of the trees outside the window, was all that could be heard. Ubix, alerted by Bella’s movements, uncurled briefly and stretched its legs, fore and aft. It was only a temporary respite, as it immediately resumed its former position. Pleased