The Knapthorne Conspiracy

by Malcolm Ballard

  One thing that she had noticed since being at the cottage was how her phone had stopped ringing or giving notifications. In London it was not unusual to get a stream of messages or e-mails every day from friends or acquaintances but, as soon as she had moved away, it was like a tap had been turned off. Maybe just a case of out of sight, out of mind, she supposed but it didn't concern her greatly. Bella had wanted to create the optimum atmosphere for her writing with as few interruptions as possible. That was the way she had wanted it and, if she were honest, she enjoyed living in the vacuum it had created knowing that it wasn’t going to be a permanent arrangement.

  As it turned out, the forecasters had been proved right and the weather was at times over the weekend atrocious, due to high winds and heavy rain. Bella took full advantage of the conditions and, putting all the drama of the past week behind her, lost herself in her work. Late afternoon on Sunday, she had been overtaken by tiredness and knew that she had to give up. Having been at the keyboard until nearly midnight the night before then making an early start that morning Bella was more than satisfied with what she had achieved. As she made her way downstairs to get herself something to eat, it occurred to her how lucky she was that there wasn’t anybody in her life that she had to take into consideration where her writing was concerned. Being able to work whenever she wanted for as long as she needed was a real blessing. Perhaps fate had decided she should be celibate. By the time she sat down to watch the early evening news on television Bella had opted to have a quick bath, after the news, and go to bed as she was having difficulty in keeping her eyes open. It pleased her immensely to know that Maria would be with her the next day but then that started her worrying. There was obviously something wrong with her mother, from the tone of her recent phone call, which was why she was coming over. Maria wasn’t getting any younger it was true but didn’t all daughters think that their mother would live for ever? Briefly she tried to imagine life without Maria. She had been such an influence in her early life that, even though they saw little of each other now, it was a comfort knowing she was there if Bella needed her. Maybe it was time, too, to try and get some answers about her father. She made the mistake of closing her eyes and trying to remember him. The sound of his voice, the shape of his face. When she awoke, the room was in darkness save for the bright glaring rectangle of the television screen. Ubix was curled up in a ball next to her, purring contentedly.

  “Oh, no! What time is it?” Her words, muffled by a yawn, woke the cat and the pair of them stretched together. Bella looked at the luminous digits on her watch. “Oh, it’s gone ten-o-clock!” she cried in dismay. Her neck ached from where she had fallen asleep. “I don’t know about you, puss, but I’m off to bed.” She rubbed at her eyes, trying to wake herself up, flicked on the light switch and went over to the windows to pull the curtains. The thought went through her mind that Maria might have rung while she was asleep but Bella felt certain the phone would have woken her if she had.

  The front that had brought the bad weather had moved away and Monday morning brought clearing skies and a brighter day altogether. Whereas in London the wind and rain had generally depressed Bella, here she revelled in nature’s tantrums and, on the odd occasion, had gone out walking purely because of the adverse weather. She felt more at one with the elements here and, in the same way that she had come to appreciate the sky in all its variations, she had developed an affinity with the weather. The Holland Park apartment had not let her explore this side of herself but now, as she quickly made her bed, she was given to thinking whether she could ever be as happy living back there as she had once been. The Bella Foxton she was getting to know at Willow Cottage seemed altogether a nicer person than the one she had spent most of her life with. The ringtone of her mobile made her jump and she reached across the bed to grab it. As expected, it was her mother and speaking in her best no-nonsense voice. It was not difficult for Bella to imagine Laura standing close by.

  “I am leaving here in about one hour. Let me see, that would make it around nine-thirty. How long do you think it will take me to drive down. I’ve rented a car.” Bella groaned, inwardly. The thought of Maria loose on England’s roads didn’t bear thinking about. Plus the fact she wasn’t well.

  “Mama! I would have come and picked you up…”

  “It is arranged, child, so let’s hear no more about it! How long, hm?” With her mother’s driving it was impossible to say. Bella wondered, in fact, if she would ever get there.

  “Say about three hours, Maria. How does that sound?” She swore her mother snorted in response and could picture the look of haughty disdain on her face.

  “We shall see, eh? Is there anything I can bring? Anything you want?”

  “No, mama. Just bring yourself… and drive carefully, there’s a lot of idiots on the road.”

  “Have you driven in Torino or Roma, lately, Arabella? There are idiots everywhere!” Maria rung off and Bella ended the call, knowing that she would worry about her mother constantly until she saw her arrive safely on the doorstep.

  From the moment her mother had announced she would be coming over Bella had experienced a strange combination of emotions. Her first reaction had been concern because there was the underlying feeling that Maria was unwell but then a mixture of trepidation and excitement began to stir within her. Although her mother had given no indication this was anything other than a normal visit Bella couldn’t help but feel there was a purpose to the trip. There was no definition to the feeling, no sense of a reason written out in black and white that was obvious to understand. It was as though the umbilical cord, that vital, life-giving link, still connected them and she had picked up on Maria’s vibes. Now she couldn’t wait for her mother to arrive, knowing she was on the final part of her journey, and Bella’s mood was such that she found it difficult to settle to anything. She imagined a bride waiting for the car to pick her up and take her to the church and thought that she would have felt much the same. Yet, feeling as she did, it didn’t alter her view that somehow Willow Cottage was casting its shadow over events in her life as it had done ever since the meeting at the solicitors. The memory of that meeting brought Ben to mind. He was supposed to have called last week, she remembered, and he hadn’t. Maybe after Maria’s gone I’ll give him a call, she thought, and left it at that, too excited at the prospect of her visitor’s arrival to dwell on it any further. A blinding flash of inspiration rewarded Bella with something to distract her mind and she struggled into her gumboots before setting out to look for the hose, which she had recently seen Joshua using. When Maria eventually turned up, close to one-oclock, Bella was in the process of wax polishing the car after she had cleaned it thoroughly, inside and out.

  “Mama!” Bella cried and ran as fast as her gumboots would allow to open the door of the rental car as Maria struggled to undo her seat belt. “I’m so pleased you got here safely!” Having opened the door, Bella was anxious to see how her mother looked, frightened that her illness, if she were indeed ill, would show in her face. But no, except for maybe looking pale and her face being a little thinner it was nothing that she wouldn’t have expected to see with age. As Maria got out of the car and before they hugged each other warmly, Bella did notice the slight shadows around her mother’s eyes and couldn’t recall if she’d seen them before.

  “Mama mia, are you trying to squeeze the life out of your old mother!” They parted and Bella held her at arm’s length, both women with tears in their eyes.

  “Sorry, mama! I’m just so happy to see you!” She spotted the suitcase and her mother’s shoulder bag on the back seat. “Let me get your things and we’ll go on in.” Her mother didn’t seem to be listening. Maria was looking at the cottage, taking it all in with her artist’s eye. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s beautiful, like my daughter. You are very lucky, carissima.”

  “Go on in, the door’s open. I’ll be right with you.”

  Her mother had wanted to freshen herself up after th
e journey so Bella had taken her upstairs, pointed out the bathroom, then showed Maria to her room. Now that she had finally arrived Bella couldn’t believe it and it felt like they had never been apart, as though all the long months since they had last been together had never existed. With a spring in her step she descended the stairs eager to show her mother around. At first sight Maria had looked quite good, she thought. Perhaps a little strained, a bit thinner, but not ill. Definitely not ill, Bella convinced herself. Perhaps she had been wrong in thinking her mother was unwell.

  “Hallo-o?” Her mother’s voice floated in from the lounge. “Where are you?”

  “In here, mama. In the kitchen.” Following the sound of her daughter’s voice, Maria appeared at the kitchen door.

  “What a nice, big kitchen,” she commented.

  “Mm, it’s lovely isn’t it?” Bella was in the act of putting a light lunch together for them. Maria had never been a big eater. “Just give me a minute then I’ll show you around.” Her mother crossed the room and went to the back door, looking out at the garden beyond. “Go out and have a look round. The fresh air will do wonders for you after London, believe me!”

  “Do you look after this garden?” There was disbelief in her mother’s voice and Bella laughed.

  “No, I have someone come in, once a week. A nice old man called Joshua. And I have a housekeeper.” It crossed her mind that perhaps she should have said had a housekeeper. “Called Cora. Cora Flint.”

  “What a delightfully English name.”

  “Umm,” was Bella’s only reply, confirming her mother’s opinion but with obvious reservations which Maria let pass. “I’ll tell you more about them both, later, mama. There’s more to this place and the village than first meets the eye.” She got an old-fashioned look from her mother, whose eyes twinkled as she broke into a smile.“I can’t wait to hear all about it. You always did have a colourful imagination.” What did she mean by that Bella wondered then dismissed it as being typical Maria.

  “Right, I’m finished here,” she said, rinsing her hands under the tap then drying them off. “Come on, let’s go and take a look round.” As though they were sisters, Bella slipped her arm through Maria’s and led her out of the kitchen.

  “Oh, you have a cat, too!” Maria exclaimed, on seeing Ubix padding down the stairs. “And such a beautiful one!” she added, as the cat ran to her and began rubbing its head against her ankles.

  “It’s called Ubix,” Bella informed her, as her mother bent to stroke it. “Short for ubiquitous because it follows me everywhere.” Like many women of artistic temperament Maria held cats in special regard, much like the ancient Egyptians used to. She viewed a pet cat as a creature of mystery and intrigue with subtle, mystical powers far beyond the understanding of humans. She fell in love with Ubix, instantly.

  “Where did you get him?” Bella swept down and scooped the cat up, so that her mother could have a closer look. Ubix’s motor was running at full throttle, the cat loving the attention.

  “Just turned up, one day. Walked in as though he, or she, I don’t know which, had lived here all its life and its been here ever since. Come on, I’ll show you through here,” she said, indicating the games room, “then we’ll go upstairs.”

  Twenty minutes later the two of them had returned downstairs, the tour of inspection complete, and Bella could tell that Maria was impressed with what she had seen.

  “Let’s have some lunch. Would you like to sit outside in the garden?”

  “No, here in the kitchen will be fine. Like we used to do at home when you and Laura were young, remember?” The kitchen of her parents sprawling home in Lucca was huge, as befitted the kitchen of a farmhouse, and it was the centre of the Roffino household with all family meals being eaten there. When guests or visitors came, then the dining room would be cleaned and dusted, the special silverware and crystal glasses brought out, the best wine served. Bella had been allowed wine on these occasions from when she had been only seven or eight years old, she recalled. Maria’s parents had both since passed away and the farm had been divided up between her two brothers who had each built themselves a new house and Maria had remained in the old family home.

  “Some wine with lunch, mama?”

  “Of course! I thought for a moment you’d forgotten your manners, cara mia.” They slipped easily into each other’s company and, as the meal got under way, Maria wanted to know all about life at the cottage and how the new book was progressing. Sensing that it wasn’t the right time to tell her mother everything that had happened, seeing that she’d only just arrived, Bella chose to give her an edited version. Later maybe, after dinner, would be the time to explain things in more depth, she decided. Neither would she press Maria about her health. Knowing her mother, she would speak about it when she was ready. But now that her mother was here, Bella was more convinced than ever that she had something to say and curiosity was killing her. Maria was one of those women that sailed blithely across life’s ocean like a small, stately ship, dignified and serene, weathering its storms with an amazing resilience. Even the turbulent times with Patrick had not disturbed her tranquillity for long and now, in later life, she was endowed with an aura of calmness that affected those around her. There was no rushing Maria and Bella knew she would just have to wait.

  “That was delightful!” When Bella had spotted the prosciutto ham in Paul Aristides’ delicatessen, she had known immediately what she would cook for her mother on the first night.

  “I haven’t cooked scaloppine for ages and I know it’s one of your favourites. You really enjoyed it? You’re not just being nice to your daughter?”

  “Arabella, what do you take me for? It was as nice as I have ever tasted but I think I have eaten too much.”

  “No room for dessert, then?” Patting her flat stomach as if she had a great paunch, Maria shook her head.

  “I don’t think so, grazi.”

  “Not even for zabaglione? Everything’s ready. It’ll only take me a few minutes.” Her mother looked hesitant. It was altogether too tempting to refuse. “Go on, spoil yourself!” Bella insisted, as Maria grinned and shook her head, unable to say no. “Have another glass of wine while I go and make it.” About twenty minutes later Bella returned with their dessert and they ate in companionable silence which Bella took as the prelude to her mother revealing what she had come to say, taking the opportunity to get everything straight in her mind. Her supposition proved correct. After dinner, they had seated themselves in the lounge with coffee and the remainder of the amaretti biscuits she had served with dessert. The only illumination in the room was provided by two large table lamps and in the subdued light Bella studied her mother as she sipped at her coffee. The years had been kind to her in that her skin hadn’t aged or wrinkled badly as happened with some women. Much of her adult life had been very happy and relatively stress free and Maria had always been particularly careful not to expose her skin to the sun for long periods. Perhaps this had made a difference. Her fine features still retained their classical elegance giving her a seemingly ageless look which she carried well, reminding Bella of a noble sculpture. Silver-grey hair framed Maria’s face now, hair that had once been a similar colour to her own, Bella reflected, wondering if hers would go the same way.

  “Why are you staring at your mother?” She had been well and truly caught out, not realising Maria had noticed.

  “Just thinking how good you look for your age.” The comment evoked a long sigh from her mother, who put her cup down and sat back in the armchair.

  “Looks are not everything Arabella. Time may be kind in some ways but not in others.” Bella shuffled, restlessly, in her chair.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Quickly, she tried to think exactly how old her mother was but couldn’t work it out.

  “You will find, as you get older, you start to get aches and pains. Things that you’ve always done are suddenly not so easy any more. Your body starts showing signs of getting older.” She sounded to
Bella…not weary exactly, more like she had come to realise she wasn’t twenty-one any longer.

  “Do you have regular check-ups?” Maria said, suddenly, in earnest. “And check yourself, that sort of thing?” Bella leaned forward, scrutinising her mother’s face.

  “Maria, what’s this all about? Come on, tell me.” Her mother looked her straight in the eye.

  “I have a lump, here,” she said, patting her left breast. “I am having the operation next week. The lump is not a good one, what is the word?”

  “Malignant,” Bella said, softly, wanting to cry.

  “Si, malignant, but they will not know how things are until after the operation. There, now you know.” Unable to help herself, Bella was in tears and Maria looked at her, dismissively. “Now stop that, child, or you will have your mother in tears, also. What good are tears? We must be positive, no?” Bella nodded, then came over and sat at her mother’s feet.

  “How long have you known?”

  “I found it some months ago but told no-one.” She gave her daughter a guilty look. “I know,” she continued, holding up a hand. “Don’t tell your mother off. It was stupid of me but I thought it was nothing.”