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

had grown comfortable with, like pieces of old furniture that were cherished and loved. The former rarely made the transition to the latter but she needed the stimulation of a new man in her life, from time to time, like an addict needing a fix. Her brief marriage had shown her that she couldn’t cope with long term commitment. Not yet, anyway. She recalled the solicitor’s athletic physique, his easy charm and polished manner and the way he had made her laugh. Ben Hollingsworth was certainly not unnatractive, either. The lights changed to green and she took it as an omen, grinning broadly as she slipped the stick into drive and roared off.

The phone in the flat was ringing as she put the key in the door but by the time she reached it, and picked up the receiver, the caller had rung off. With a sigh of relief, Bella kicked her shoes off, glad to be home, and went in search of a glass of Chablis. This was her haven, her private world where she could relax at leisure and write when the mood took her. At least, that’s how it used to be but events of the past six months had overtaken her and infringed on her privacy. The concept of having somewhere to write that was remote and peaceful was a dream come true and, when the wine was poured, she raised her glass in a toast to Rupert. The moment was short-lived as the sound of the phone broke the spell. There was a wall-mounted portable right next to her, on the kitchen wall, and she picked it up.

“Bella Foxton,” she announced to the caller but all she heard was the dial tone so she replaced the phone.

“Strange,” she murmured but didn’t give it another thought as she brought the glass to her lips and took a sip. Knowing there was nothing in her diary until the next day, when she had to go and see an elderly friend in Hampstead, she determined to make the most of the rest of Thursday.  It was an opportunity to luxuriate in the good fortune of her new acquisition, which she still couldn’t quite believe and there was only one way to truly pamper herself.

Bella lay back in the silky, aromatic water of the bath, her eyes closed, letting the oils and essences she had added gently caress and soothe her. With her hair up, out of the way, she could just about submerge herself up to her chin and feel any tension draining away as if the water were soaking it up, like blotting paper. For several minutes she lay there, in a trance-like state, totally relaxed, with her mind in limbo before allowing herself to reflect on recent events. It seemed that she was having an incredible run of good luck lately and she had Rupert to thank for it. His assistance and support with the book had been wonderful and now he had given her somewhere special to continue her work. The only cloud on the horizon was Laura, and Bella recalled the look on her sister’s face when she had heard about the necklace. The memory of how Laura had openly coveted that piece of jewellery, in front of Rupert, made her feel ashamed but she felt something altogether different, something malevolent and chilling, at Laura’s reaction to news of the cottage. As she reached for the glass of wine, which she’d placed on the side of the bath, Bella couldn’t help but wonder why she’d never even thought about the fact that Laura might be present at the reading of the will. If it had have occurred to her beforehand, she conjectured, then she might very well not have gone herself. So preoccupied was she, thinking about Laura, that she downed the remaining contents of the glass and poured herself another almost absent-mindedly.

Laura had been born three years after her brother, Liam, and Arabella had made her entrance into the world three years after that. Therein lay the root of the problem. Patrick Foxton was overjoyed on the occasion of Laura’s birth because he had always wanted a daughter, and, moreover, the child had inherited his pale complexion and red hair which pleased him immensely. Not so, unfortunately, the child’s mother, Maria, who remembered a girl with similar colouring from her own childhood, in Florence, and the taunts the girl had put up with at school. A sensitive child, the girl had grown up not only despising her red hair but hating the fact she had to cover up in the sun when all of her friends were looking tanned and healthy. Only time would tell if Laura would suffer the same fate and her mother could only pray that she wouldn’t. As the apple of her father’s eye, Laura had all the attention she could handle for the first three years of her life, to all intents and purposes a bonny baby with a very pleasant disposition. Then Maria fell pregnant again and Liam was in awe of his mother’s condition, watching her grow before his eyes and, much to her amusement, frightened that one day she was going to explode. His sister, however, showed very little interest, but became jealous if Patrick demonstrated the slightest concern over Maria and the baby. After Arabella was born, things did not get off to a good start, with Laura appearing to resent the arrival of her baby sister from the very first moment her mother and father brought her home from the hospital. In stark contrast six-year-old Liam was absolutely over the moon at the prospect of having another sister in the house. Even the casual observer could see the likeness between baby Arabella and her mother and, as was to be expected, Maria devoted a lot of time to the new arrival in the first weeks of the baby’s life. Visitors would fuss over Arabella and remark on what a well-behaved,