The Knapthorne Conspiracy

by Malcolm Ballard

  “You actually enjoyed that, didn’t you?” Astonishment was written all over Bella’s face.

  “Well, honestly, darling! I’m sure what he said was a pretty accurate description. Quite funny, really, when you think about it. But does one actually want to be told. I think not!” It was amazing that, in the light of her previous experiences and what had just happened, Bella still didn’t feel exactly uncomfortable in the bar but regretted that it was so unwelcoming and dowdy. A good local would make all the difference. Jane had obviously read her thoughts.

  “Is this the only pub in Turnip Town?” Bella gave her the evil eye.

  “Yes, unfortunately.”

  “Pity,” Jane remarked, sympathetically. With a decent local here you’d be on the pig’s back.” Bella leaned across the table to her.

  “If I were you I’d be careful saying things like that, wearing that outfit,.” If looks could have killed, Bella would have been history, then Jane dissolved into laughter and they enjoyed the joke together, oblivious to their surroundings.

  “The local humour is obviously rubbing off on you. I can see you’re going to fit in well here, darling.” Jane sat back, drink in hand, once again toying with an ear lobe. Bella was intrigued by the fact that her friend seemed to be constantly playing with it.

  “Have you got something wrong with that ear, by any chance?”

  “It’s my nicotine deterrent, sweetie,” she answered, positively. “Acupuncture.” Jane put a thumb behind the lobe and pushed it forward for Bella to be able to see the group of little rings there.

  “Whenever I feel the urge for a cigarette, I just rub them gently and it takes away the craving.

  “Can it do the same for sex?” There was a pleading note to Bella’s voice. Jane gave a wry laugh then her face took on an authoritative look.

  “No need, darling! There’s a little place down here,” she said, putting her hand between her legs, “and you just apply the same technique.”

  “Bentley! If the guys in here knew what we were talking about they’d have a fit.”

  “Oh, sure. It’s not as if they aren’t all owner operators, anyway. What’s wrong with the girls having a bit of fun?” Bella looked mystified.

  “Owner operators?” The remark solicited a deep sigh from Jane.

  “Think about it a little, Bell, hm?” Comprehension dawned, better late than never, and a smile spread slowly across her face.

  It wasn’t long before the talk got a little more serious and the subject of Bella’s new book came under discussion. There was no doubt in her own mind that the commitment and motivation were there but what good was that without the subject matter and storyline.

  “Don’t get too worked up about it, yet,” Jane advised. “I know the deadline’s like the sword of Damocles hanging over your head but you’re best to forget about that.”

  “Ha!” Bella exclaimed. “Easy for you to say. All you’ve got to do is sit back and wait for me to drop the completed work in your lap. It’s so much more difficult having to follow on from the success of Lingering Doubts. Do I try and create something in a similar genre, sort of factional, with a blend of truth and fiction? Personally, I would find it difficult to revert to my previous style which had been my bread and butter. Oh, I don’t know,” she said, suddenly, with an air of defeatism. “I didn’t think it would be so hard!”

  “What you need,” Jane decided, "is another drink. Same again?” Bella nodded and Jane collected their glasses and went over to the bar. Meanwhile, Bella’s thoughts drifted back to the events of a couple of days earlier and she bathed in a sea of memories, hearing the scream of tyres, the shocking sound of Kyle’s angry voice and then, looking into his face, watching the anger drain away. Was it all only three days ago?

  “Hello? Bentley to Foxton, are you receiving?” Jane had returned with their drinks and could easily see that Bella was lost in a world of her own. “I can see this living by yourself is taking its toll and this place doesn’t help. It would be nice for you to come down here and actually talk to some of these people, if you could get to know any of them.”

  “There’s one I know,” Bella said, nodding her head towards the bar. Alfie Flint had appeared, looking for empties, dressed in baggy grey slacks it looked like he’d slept in and a voluminous hand-knitted green sweater.

  “Your friend, Mr. Flint, I presume?” As Jane spoke Alfie spotted Bella and his whole demeanour changed, rather like someone who’d lost a five pound note, and was therefore annoyed, suddenly finding twenty pounds. With all the eagerness of a friendly puppy, he made his way over to them.”

  “Allo Miss Foxton. ‘Allo miss,” he said to Jane, acknowledging her with a grin. Mr. ‘Andysides didn’t want me to come out here but I knew them glasses would need collectin’.

  “Glad to see someone else with an excellent eye for colour,” Jane said, in an aside to Bella.

  “You seen my sister, then, ‘ave you?” His remark was directed at Bella, who nodded her head in response. “Pretty, ain’t she? It was me who…”

  “Everything all right here, Miss Foxton?” Seemingly, from out of nowhere, Samuel Handysides had appeared at Alfie’s elbow.

  “That’ll do, Alfie. Take yourself off to the kitchen, eh? I don’t want you upsetting the ladies, now.”

  “He’s alright, Samuel,” Bella said, jumping to Alfie’s defence. “He’s only trying to be friendly.”

  “Beggin’ your pardon, miss, but I knows what’s best for ‘im. Now run along Alfie, eh?” The look on Samuel Handysides face prevented any argument from Alfie and he sloped off back towards the bar.

  “Now, would you ladies be likin’ anything to eat? I brought you a menu, just in case.”

  “That’s very kind of you Samuel,” Bella replied, taking it from him. “It is our intention to have lunch here so we’ll order shortly, if that’s alright.”

  “No problem, I won’t be far away.” With a pleasant smile, he turned to leave.

  “Are there any plans to do this place up?” Jane asked him, pointedly looking around the room. “You know, make it look more, kind of… nice?” Bella knew she was trying to be polite. Samuel Handysides looked at her as a teacher might look at a child who had failed to grasp a simple fact.

  “Why? I’m happy with it. The customers are happy with it an’ the brewery ain’t goin’ to throw its money where it ain’t needed. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it, we say down here.” He showed no sign of annoyance at her question. To his mind, he was just stating a plain fact. “I’ll be lookin’ forward to your order, then, ladies.” Jane made a face at Bella as he left them.

  “Well, that put me in my place, darling, didn’t it!” Bella couldn’t help laughing.

  “I’d more or less asked him the same thing and been given a similar answer.” She looked suddenly thoughtful. “Didn’t you feel that Samuel didn’t want Alfie to talk to me?” Jane didn’t reply immediately, thinking back to what had happened.

  “Not especially. Seems to be the boss just doesn’t want him out here around people who don’t know him.” She took a drink from her glass. “You sure you’re not getting paranoid?”

  “Probably,” Bella agreed. “Ok, let’s have a look at this,” she said, opening the menu. “What do you fancy for lunch?”

  They placed th
eir order and the food came within fifteen minutes. Over lunch, the talk turned, once again, to the matter of Bella’s next book and the problem she was facing.

  “The only reason I said to put the deadline out of your mind, darling, is that it tends to have such a restricting influence, creativity-wise. Free your mind up and let it range over topics and situations rather than have it blighted by a distant date. Once you start writing, the deadline factor should become more manageable.”

  “I understand what you’re saying, Jane, and it does make sense but it seems as though I’m staring into a black hole!” The idea seemed to amuse Jane.

  “It will happen, believe me,” she laughed, “and when it does, you won’t be able to get the words on paper quickly enough. Look at your strengths, from Lingering Doubts. The way you drew people into that experience, so it became their situation and they could identify so closely with it. It had me in tears and that doesn’t happen too often.” Bella thought about that, and how personal the whole episode had been for her. So should she look for something closer to home for inspiration? A personal drama with a topical flavour. She didn’t know, and that was the problem. She let out a sigh of frustration, wanting to get on with it yet unable to. It was very disconcerting. Jane sensed Bella’s mood and decided to mention something that had been on her mind although, originally, she had intended to keep it to herself.

  “For what it’s worth,” she began, without emotion, and secured Bella’s immediate attention. “I wasn’t going to say anything about this because I didn’t know how you’d take it.” Much to Bella’s annoyance, Jane picked up her glass and drained it.

  “Say anything about what, for God’s sake?” Bella said, impatiently, as Jane put her glass down.

  “It’s just that I’ve noticed an atmosphere in the cottage…” Bella went to interrupt but Jane held her hand up to prevent her. “…and before you say anything, I’m not making this up, and it’s difficult to explain precisely what it is.” Bella looked incredulous.

  “When did you notice it?”

  “Yesterday evening, and I felt it this morning, too.” Bella’s eyes narrowed and she studied her editor’s face a little more intently.

  “I think you’re winding me up! I haven’t noticed anything and I’ve been there often enough now. Tell me more. What do you mean by an atmosphere? Explain yourself!” Most unusually, Jane looked somewhat sheepish.

  “Would that I could. I don’t know, Bell, it’s like a sixth sense, I guess. Like another presence. “Bella’s interest was suddenly heightened although she wasn’t certain she liked the implication of what she had heard.

  “A presence?” she repeated. “What sort of a presence.” Jane tried to lighten the conversation, not wanting to upset her friend.

  “Look, we’re not talking The Exorcist, here. There’s a feeling I get. It wouldn’t put me off coming to the place or anything, sweetie.” Knowing Jane only too well, Bella couldn’t make up her mind whether she was pulling her leg or not.”

  Are you sure you’re not trying to get my brain kick-started with this?” Placing a hand on her chest, Jane feigned astonishment.

  “Me, darling? Never! I assure you.” Leaning closer, in a conspiratorial manner, she lowered her voice. “You started this, remember. ‘I felt that Samuel didn’t want Alfie to talk to me.’ Wasn’t that what you said?” It was true that, from the moment she and Ben had walked into the saloon bar of The Lamb, Bella had detected a reaction to her association with Willow Cottage. Or imagined as much, anyway. And she had related the fact to Jane. Then a memory from long, long ago came back to her. Dim recollections of an evening at her mother’s house in Tuscany.

  “My mother had a friend, once. A psychic.” The look on Jane’s face revealed more than a little scepticism. “Don’t laugh, Bentley. I’ve witnessed the woman at work and she was no charlatan.”

  “What’s your point then, darling?” she asked, playing with her ear.

  “This woman maintained that many people had similar powers to hers, often to a lesser extent, but most were unaware of their gift, as she called it.”

  “So?” Bella inhaled, noisily.

  “If you'll just be patient, I’ll tell you!” Bella finished her drink and ran her tongue over her lips. “I’d love a coffee in a minute.”

  “Just tell me about this psychic, will you, then I’ll see about the coffee!” Jane exclaimed. “Though Christ knows what you’ll get in here,” she added, as an afterthought. Bella’s mind was working along the same lines as she returned to her tale.

  “Rhonda, this woman, told me that people often had experiences like the one you’ve just described and shrugged them off when, in reality, they had been exposed to some kind of psychic phenomenon.” Jane stared at her, for the briefest of moments, without speaking.

  “Bullshit!’ she commented, dismissively. “I think that sort of thing is a load of bollocks, darling, if you want my opinion.” Even as she spoke, Jane recalled having felt the same way before, on occasion, and tried to cast her mind back to think of exactly when.

  “You don’t look entirely convinced, if I might say 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.”

  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.”

  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 with her morning’s work, Bella got up slowly, still with a slight twinge of pain in her lower back, and massaged her back muscles. After all the months of work, promoting Lingering Doubts, then the comings and goings of the past few weeks it had seemed as though she would never get round to starting to write again, fearing the longer it took the more difficult it would be. But that hurdle had been cleared now, she knew, and she was prepared for the task that lay in front of her. Making her way downstairs she realised that she had been so engrossed with her work that not one thought about Ben, Kyle or Laura had entered her head, writing absorbing her so completely. It was a form of escape too, and she recognised that, but she couldn’t lead her life simply through the pages of her books. Now that she had relocated, temporarily anyway, she needed to develop a life of her own outside of writing and her thoughts turned to Kyle, wondering not only when but if he would ring. Then she realised that he would have to. It occurred to her that she didn’t have the least idea of where her car had been taken to or by whom.