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

and, realising the fact, he got a grip on himself. “They used to ‘ave a smaller cottage closer to the village but Lord Easterbrook, your uncle, offered ‘em Willow Cottage on account of Sid Flint ‘ad worked for ‘im for so long.”

“Oh, I see,” Bella said, softly, more for her own benefit than anything.

“Alfie’s like a seven or eight-year-old lad now an’ ‘e always needs someone to keep an eye on ‘im but ‘e don’t remember anythin’ about comin’ off that tractor. All ‘e knows, I reckon, is that the cottage is connected with sommat bad. Leastways, that’s what Cora thinks.” The mention of her housekeeper’s name prompted Bella to think of something else.

“You probably wouldn’t be aware of this, Samuel, as I can’t think of any reason why you should be, but Cora puts fresh flowers in the small bedroom at Willow Cottage every time she comes. Would you have any idea why that is?”

“I puts ‘em there cos that’s where our Alfie died. Alfie as ‘e used to be, that is.” Bella started at the sound of Cora’s voice, unaware that she had been hovering near the door.  She felt the colour come to her cheeks.

“I wasn’t meaning to pry, Cora,” she said, apologetically. “I did ask you yesterday, if you remember.”

“An’ I gave you an answer then, as I remember. It’s sommat that’s best left alone after all these years and I’d thank you not to mention it again, if you don’t mind, Miss Foxton. I ‘ave troubles enough with Alfie, without this sort o’ thing!” The woman’s presence filled the room like a physical barrier, put in place to prevent any further discussion of the subject and Bella considered the timing of her entry. It gave her the impression of having been rehearsed, as if Mrs. Flint and Samuel Handysides were actors in a play being staged for her benefit. She glanced at the landlord’s face and saw only sadness in his eyes, his lips pressed together as if preventing himself from speaking. It was obvious that Cora's presence was a threat to him continuing their conversation and the silence was becoming embarrassing. Bella got to her feet, preparing to leave, determined not to let her housekeeper have the last word. She flicked her head back, shaking out the long, auburn tresses almost as though it were an act of defiance.

“I’m sorry to learn about Alfie and the effect his accident must have had on your life.” As she spoke Bella focused on the cold, uncompromising glare in the eyes of her housekeeper. “But if it’s also going to affect my life or my home in some way then I want to know why. It’s not too much to ask is it?” Moving her head slightly she turned her attention to Samuel Handysides who was still seated. “Whether you like it or not, I’m part of this village now and I’d like to be treated in the same way as any other member of your community, that goes for my friends too.” Having said her piece, she walked to the door and opened it but turned back to face Cora as she thought to mention something else.

“I’m very happy with the work you do up at Willow Cottage Cora and I’d like us to be friends. Please tell Alfie not to worry about what happened, alright?” Her words seemed to have no outward effect on her housekeeper and it was Samuel who spoke up.

“Don’t go a-worryin’ yourself about them windows, Miss Foxton. I’ll get someone up, in an hour or two, to take a look at ‘em.”

“That’s very kind of you Samuel, thanks. Tell Alfie I asked after him will you?” As she closed the door behind her, thankful to be out of the chilly, depressing atmosphere in the parlour, she lingered on the step for a moment happy to let the sun’s warmth get to her body.  It also gave her the chance to think over what she had been told about Alfie. There was no reason whatsoever for her to doubt the word of Samuel Handysides and the story sounded quite believable but Bella couldn’t shake off the feeling that something didn’t seem quite right. Not right at all.

 

Chapter Fifteen

Turning the necklace in her hands she watched the twinkling of a thousand tiny stars as each minute surface caught the light. In its own way, the gleam in Laura’s eyes was similarly startling as she stared at the stunning piece of jewellery. To her mind it was almost a living thing, a part of the family, stirring memories both good and bad. She had felt the urge to retrieve it from the safety deposit box at the bank and bring it home for a night after returning from the abortive visit to her sister. Now, admiring it as it lay on the desk top in front of her, she found its presence strangely comforting almost as though it were her father or her brother in the room with her rather than a collection of precious stones. She had despised her inheritance at first knowing how much better Bella had fared but she had now come to think of it as a symbol, a brilliant reminder of how she had suffered at the hands of her sister. The glare from the nearby desk lamp gave Laura’s pale skin a ghostly, translucent quality accentuating her high cheekbones, her thin, sharp nose and narrow, tapering jawline. Although her eyes were fixed on the necklace her thoughts were not. It was a vacant, unfocused look on her face, Laura’s mind occupied with memories of long ago recalling the argument that had driven her father from the house when she was just eight years old. How could she have known that she would never see him alive again?

Downstairs a door slammed violently, followed by a noise she didn’t recognise at first. Then she realised it was the sound of raised voices cushioned by distance and