The Knapthorne Conspiracy

by Malcolm Ballard

  “Enjoy your evening, dear?” In the way of the guilty, he wondered how she had found out so quickly.

  “Not particularly,” he replied, keeping his voice even, trying to cover all eventualities. “Been going over some figures with the Financial Controller. Not much fun in that.”

  “Did you enjoy the weekend?” There was definitely an icy edge to her voice now.

  “The weekend?” he repeated. “You were here at the weekend. What are you talking about?” She walked across the spacious farmyard kitchen, with its central work station, hanging pans and utensils, gas hob, eye-level oven and rotisserie and imported Spanish stone floor. In her hand was a letter. His wife's anger was reflected by the fact her hand was shaking as she held the letter out to him.

  “Not last weekend, Ben. I meant this one.” He took the sheet of paper from her and discovered it was no ordinary letter. The words on the page were made up of letters of all different shapes and sizes, both upper and lower case, immediately identifying what it was. It mentioned a date. It mentioned Ben and Bella Foxton and it mentioned Willow Cottage. Normally, his mind would have been on to it, spewing out a convincing lie to placate her and cover his tracks but tonight was not a good night. It was most definitely not a good night at all.

  Chapter Twenty

  The moment Bella closed the door behind her, having farewelled Kyle, she found herself plagued with mixed emotions concerning his visit. Uppermost in her mind was the worry that he might open a most unpleasant can of worms by digging around to see if he could unearth any facts to substantiate her feelings. Just when she felt that her presence was, perhaps, becoming more accepted, the last thing she needed was Kyle bulldozing his way through people’s sensibilities in order to get to the bottom of a possibly non-existent mystery. Tiredness clouded her thinking and all she wanted to do was sit down, put her feet up and relax. With that thought in mind, she took herself into the old games room which she had converted into a tv lounge and did exactly that. The changes she had made to the room weren’t drastic, mainly comprising the addition of some full length, beige curtains at the windows and an inexpensive but functional lounge suite in a soft, leafy green fabric. A coffee table and standard lamp completed the list. Although the room wouldn’t win an award for its décor it served her purpose adequately. And, if the pale green carpet with its thick, fluffy pile wasn’t exactly to her taste, she had decided to put up with it on the basis that the cost of replacing it didn’t warrant the exercise. Not immediately anyway. Before making herself comfortable she had switched on the television, grabbed the remote from the table then prostrated herself on the sofa. A pang of guilt struck her straight away as she looked at the screen without really watching the programme, recognising the familiar urge to get back to her writing. It was essential to push on now that she had slipped back into the role of a creator of fiction, like having pulled on a familiar, comfortable jersey. From experience she knew that in her case, the process became so much easier if she could dedicate some time, each day, to the continuation of the story. The longer she spent away from the plot the more difficult she found it to pick up the threads, even though the framework and all the components were filed on the computer. Mentally acknowledging the need to make an early start the following day, Bella let her thoughts drift back to Kyle.

  Trying to analyse her feelings accurately, imagining that it was Jane questioning her, she had to admit that his visit had generated a strange combination of disappointment and excitement. Yet if Kyle Lucas hadn’t exactly been the man she’d expected him to be then what exactly had she been expecting? Bella turned the television’s sound right down so that she could concentrate on her thoughts, just leaving the picture for company. At the same time, Ubix jumped up on the sofa, making itself comfortable on Bella’s legs.

  “I don’t think so!” she exclaimed, lifting it off before the cat could dig its claws into her trousers. “I’ll feed you in a minute, just let me have a bit of a rest.” Stroking Ubix brought forth a loud, appreciative purring as the cat lifted its head to the touch of her hand.

  “Well, you made your feelings about Kyle clear enough, didn’t you? If only you could tell me what it is about him you don’t like.” The cat was so loving and responsive to her touch she found it difficult to believe it had ever reacted to Kyle in the way that it had. She had to admit that she’d entertained a slightly romantic notion of Kyle after the way he’d helped her. The tall, handsome stranger who would turn out to be her perfect man. More Barbara Cartland than real life she concluded, with a smile. Long ago she’d realised that there was no such thing as the perfect man especially as she grew older and it became more difficult to find a suitable partner. Age had a way of giving permanence to faults and peculiarities, like insects held in amber, and somehow they became more noticeable. What lust and excitement were prepared to overlook in the formative years, cynicism and experience quickly latched onto in later life. So was it surprising that Kyle wasn’t the perfect man of her dreams? The conclusion came as a kind of relief because she really wanted to like him (Are you desperate, or what? she could hear Jane saying) and her imagination took over as she recalled their embrace. The magic was certainly there between them as the atmosphere had been electric and she had experienced an overwhelming physical desire. It would be easy to let the craving for physical fulfilment cloud her judgement, such was her longing for a man, but if he wasn’t Mr. Perfect, so what? Would a starving woman turn down the offer of food because it hadn’t been prepared by a cordon bleu chef, she asked herself. Ah well, it was no use wondering what might have happened if they hadn’t have been interrupted and besides she hadn’t been at her best either. Bella came to the conclusion that, overall, it hadn’t been a bad day at all and, if she were honest with herself, she was looking forward to seeing him again. She could only hope that he felt the same way about her and wondered when she would hear from him, suddenly remembering his gift of the gold Parker. He never had given her the book to sign. Perhaps he would bring it with him next time if there was to be a next time. But then he had shown interest in her interpretation of what had been going on around her, since arriving, so that might draw him back anyway. Only time would tell, she admitted, giving in to the urge to yawn. Becoming slowly more relaxed, her mind was like a tranquil pool and pleasant memories of the day bobbed to the surface, intermittently, as she fought to ward off the clutches of sleep and Ubix miaowed plaintively, seeking to be fed.

  It was dark when she awoke feeling very drowsy and with no idea of the time. All she could think about was going to bed as soon as possible. The beginnings of a headache nagged at her as soon as she got on her feet and Bella knew she ought to have something to eat. The cat was nowhere to be seen. Obviously disgusted with her for going to sleep, she supposed, it had probably gone out hunting for its dinner. Stomach cramps snatched at her insides, causing her to gasp, as she made her way to the kitchen seeking out the mirror to see what she looked like. A pale, slightly drawn face stared forlornly back at her and she poked her tongue out at the sickly stranger staring back.

  “Ugh!” was the only comment she could muster as she retreated to the fridge to get the milk. Good job Kyle can’t see me now, she thought, plucking the milk from the fridge door but before she could get to the cupboard for a glass, the phone rang.”

  ‘Ello?” she said, wearily.

  “Bella, is that you?” She recognised Kyle’s voice immediately and willed the fog to clear from her brain but it was slow to react.

  “Kyle!” Her surprise was evident. “Where are you?”

  “At my mother’s. I was thinking about our conversation earlier. You know, about Willow cottage and everything…” As if the sun had come out and burned off the mist her brain cleared immediately.

  “Go on,” she encouraged him.

  “Could you find out exactly when that bloke had his accident, do you think?”

  “Alfie, you mean. Alfie Flint?”

  “Yes. That’s him.” He went quiet for a mom
ent. “Doesn’t have to be spot on, exact month, that sort of thing. Even if you could nail it down to a within a year or two, it would help.” Bella thought about it. Not too difficult a task as long as she didn’t make herself too obvious.

  “You are interested then?” It was hard to keep the excitement out of her voice.

  “Oh… maybe,” he answered, casually.

  “And you don’t think I’m imagining things?”

  “Well there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” An awkward silence settled between them as if they were each searching for the right thing to say.

  “Bella, I did enjoy today…”

  “Me too,” she added.

  “…and I’d very much like to take you up on your offer. How about the weekend after next?” he suggested, quickly, as though he didn’t want to give her too much time to think. Her mind was racing. Should she have invited him to stay? Was it the right thing to do so quickly? There were no other opportunities in the wings right now and, dammit, she needed some excitement in her life. ‘Go on, darling, say yes!’ Jane’s voice whispered.

  “Yes!” Bella answered, emphatically, thinking she must ring Jane and let her know. No, she’d go up and see her instead, she decided. Work like a maniac this week, then go up to London on Friday. She’d make an appointment to get her hair done Friday evening.

  “Way to go! Brilliant!” she whispered, with the phone away from her lips as she punched the air. Still feeling very much out of sorts, it was just the tonic she needed.

  “Let me know if you can get that information. Otherwise I’ll try and get down on the Friday, if that’s ok, by about 7-o-clock.” Bella’s pulse was already racing at the thought, blaming the reaction on the time of the month. Why else would she be acting like a pubescent schoolgirl?

  “That’d be fine. Now, that is Friday week, isn’t it? Just to make sure you don’t arrive and find me away.”

  “Yup,” he confirmed. “Not the weekend coming but the one after.”

  “Ideal! I’ll look forward to seeing you. And thanks for my day out.”

  “Are you feeling any better?”

  “Just tired. I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

  “I hope so. See you soon, then.”

  The moment Bella got into bed she wondered why she hadn’t come up sooner, it felt so good. She had brought a hastily-made sandwich and the glass of milk with her after having left some food down for the cat. Although she badly needed something to eat she also realised that it was tempting fate to have it just before going to sleep. If there was anything that was guaranteed to make her dream that was it but she was hungry enough to take the risk. In her sleepy state, after putting the empty glass and plate out of harm’s way on the bedside cabinet, she chose to review her time at the cottage and, all things considered, the move appeared to be working quite well. The book was under way and she was happy with its progress to date so that had to be good. After all it was the main reason for being at Willow Cottage. For the first time in several days her thoughts turned to Ben with some degree of sympathy. Only a week ago she had nearly given in to an overwhelming urge to make love to him and now here she was inviting Kyle to come and stay. As tired as she was even the thought of making love prompted an instinctive reaction which unsettled her and it was, as much as anything, the need for sexual fulfilment that had driven her into his arms. But a week ago she hadn’t known what would happen with Kyle. One thing past experience had taught her was to keep her love life simple and, for another thing, Ben had strings attached and that was always a situation with the potential for turning grubby. Much as she liked Ben she conceded that it would be kinder all round to phone him and let him down gently but that call could wait until after Kyle’s next visit just in case the weekend didn’t work out. What was the point in burning a bridge before you knew if the only other one was reliable or not? It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open and Bella turned on her side, pulling the pillows snugly around her, and let memories of Kyle accompany her on the short journey into the arms of Morpheus. The son of Hypnos lived up to his name that night as images and characters from events of the past few weeks flitted across the stage of her suspended consciousness. In one episode, a flashback from Laura’s visit led to a recollection of her mother’s postcard then a glimpse of Mickey and his amazing eyes but she remembered none of this on waking, bright and early the next day. Not until much later did she even recall that she hadn’t dreamed of crashing through undergrowth with the voices of her relentless pursuers becoming clearer and clearer as they closed in behind her.

  The night’s sleep plus her usual medication had done wonders and Bella rose at 6am full of enthusiasm for not only the day ahead but also the next couple of weeks. The hours flew by with the morning devoted to writing until she was too hungry to continue any longer then the afternoon spent weeding and tidying up in the garden. After a leisurely bath and a light evening meal Bella returned to the computer, only giving up when her eyes began to get scratchy. In retrospect, as she got ready for bed, she considered it a most constructive and rewarding day once again sleeping soundly without interruption. The next day, Monday, she made an appointment with Phillipe, her hairdresser, for 7pm on Friday and rang Jane to let her know she’d be in town. She also made a couple of calls to friends she was particularly anxious to see, if they were going to be around over the weekend. Lastly, she put in a call to her agent as she hadn’t heard from him for a while and wanted to find out if there were any appointments or bookings coming up. It turned out that he was at his holiday home in Italy, his exact return date unknown, so she left a message to say she’d called. Free of any distractions she was now able to concentrate fully on her writing, putting in three days of sustained effort that she was really satisfied with. By Thursday, aware that Cora would be arriving with Joshua, Bella had come to the conclusion that speaking to Samuel about Alfie was definitely the right decision and greeted Cora with no more than a polite enquiry after Alfie’s well-being. On the spur of the moment she decided to see Samuel that lunchtime and was surprised to find herself looking forward to visiting The Lamb. So it transpired that after a very pleasing day, when she had found out the answer to Kyle’s question and texted him with the news, Bella had gone to bed tired but happy. Happy with the progress she was making with her writing and happy that she hadn’t appeared to have aroused Samuel’s suspicions in any way. But it was Cora that Bella was thinking of as she put down her book and switched the lamp off. What really went on in that woman’s mind? Sleep overtook her almost instantly but a little after 3.30am she awoke in a highly-agitated state. Like a bad deed that troubles the conscience, the dream had returned.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The weekend in London had acted like a shot of adrenalin into Bella’s system. From the moment she had left Willow Cottage on the Friday afternoon, full of anticipation for her visit to Phillipe, she had seemed to be constantly on the move with the hours jetting by and, of course, before she knew it she was on her way back. While in London slipping into the old lifestyle had come easily, as she had known it would, but what had surprised her was how much she had missed her rural retreat. After a self-indulgent lie-in, on Saturday morning, she had got up and showered, furiously washing her hair. The visit to the salon was not a cheap experience, designed as it was to pamper the female ego, and Bella savoured every moment except for the fact she hated having her hair cut. Her reaction was the same after every visit. Even though the cut was superb she couldn’t wait to wash her hair in an effort to make it look a little more full, a little longer. A little more like it was before Phillipe had taken the scissors to it. Last night she had been too tired by the time she got to the apartment but one look in the mirror, once she was up, had sent her hurrying to the bathroom. Mid-morning Jane had arrived for coffee, as planned, with the announcement that her romance was blossoming and she wanted to know all Bella’s latest news, especially any of a more intimate and salacious nature. She was stran
gely reticent though to talk about her own relationship, leading Bella to the conclusion that it must indeed be serious. Her theory was supported by the new Jane. Less full in the face and a little slimmer and there was a glow about her that spoke volumes, prompting Bella to feel secretly happy for her friend, praying that it would last. Enquiring about the book Jane was delighted to get a positive response but before Bella could enlighten her any further she had suggested some retail therapy before lunch.

  “If we’re quick, darling, that little shop in Knightsbridge you like so much, has got a sale on. I can never remember its name but they’re only open til twelve.” Jane glanced at her watch.

  “Panache, you mean?”

  “That’s the one! Thought you’d be keen. You can tell me about the book on the way!”

  Jane had been irrepressible, obviously glad to see Bella and pleased to hear that the book was coming along nicely. Over lunch at The Grenadier, a popular pub with a noisy, intimate atmosphere she had pressed Bella for more information about Kyle.

  “So what’s he really like then, this tv producer of yours?” A look of mild annoyance crossed Bella’s face.

  “He’s not my tv producer any more than he’s yours, Jane!” Then she lightened up. “Well, not yet, anyway!” Back into their usual easy-going relationship Bella explained about the trip to Fordingbridge, mentioning Kyle’s driving habits but, for some reason she couldn’t explain, didn’t go into too much detail about the man. Then she mentioned their discussion about events in the village, hoping to sidetrack her friend.