The Knapthorne Conspiracy by Malcolm Ballard (best english novels for beginners txt) 📕

“Killed her,” Frank answered, almost spitting the words out. “Or might just as well have done. You see, she died in childbirth.”

It was not difficult for Bella to appreciate just how much he must have hated Patrick Foxton. The more she learned the easier it was to understand Frank’s reaction to Ruth Flint’s murder. He was deserving of pity rather than punishment or recrimination, driven to the brink by his daughter's pregnancy and then pushed over the edge by a dreadful crime. She felt a rush of pity for him, trying to picture him as a young man full of enthusiasm and hope but not able to see past the broken old man in front of her, his life slowly ebbing away. She watched as it took a real effort of concentration for him to take the cigarette from between his lips and lay it on the ashtray. He was not done yet. A few words of explanation, to take the blame for it all, then he was done.

“I sent her away, for her sins. I wanted nothing to do with her.” He spoke in a small, far-away voice as remorse and self-pity washed over him, his thoughts focused on a time long ago. “I couldn’t bear the shame of an unwed mother under ma roof and all the time it was because of me, because I’d turned her away. It was me who should have been turned out, then everything would have been fine.” His voice faded a little as Frank Allsop retreated into his own world, a world of sad and bitter memories and he thought about what might have been, if things had been different.

“If I’d have loved her, like a good father should love his daughter, then chances are both her and your father would be alive today. What do you think to that, lassie? I’m not looking for forgiveness but can you blame me for shooting him after what he did to Ruthy Flint? After all these years, though, I still can’t get it out of my mind.”

Frank Allsop leaned forward and reached for his cigarette with a shaky hand. Somehow he knew he wouldn’t be long for this world now. This had been his final act, an expiation of sorts or as close to one as he could get. This young woman who had appeared from nowhere had been his confessor, the surrogate priest to whom he had bared his soul. Now he could be put to rest happy that he had not only acknowledged his guilt and shame but spoken of it to the daughter of the man who had caused him so much pain. It was female curiosity that led Bella to ask him a question but she knew she couldn’t leave it unanswered.

“So what happened to the baby, then?” Whether he had heard and was choosing to ignore her, she wasn’t sure. This time she spoke a little louder when repeating the question, to make absolutely sure he would hear. If there was one faculty of Frank Allsop’s that hadn’t suffered impairment, it was his hearing. Oh, he’d heard alright. Why did she have to mention the baby, he asked himself. As if it hadn’t been distressing enough reliving it all, now she wanted to hear about his final condemnation. The last act of the drama that had finally split the family apart and eventually brought him to Thornden and his hermit-like existence. Once again he thought of Patrick Foxton, The Irishman, the murdering, no good Irish bastard who, even from the grave, had had the last laugh, and its hollow echo was still ringing in Frank’s ears.

It was an age before he answered, with Bella all but ready to stand up and leave, which he must have sensed.

“You might as well know the rest of it now we’ve come this far. I guess nothing of it matters much any more, not where I’m going anyway. He rearranged himself in the chair, trying to get comfortable but only succeeded in bringing on another coughing fit. Bella was becoming impatient, having found out what she’d come for. The bleak atmosphere of the room and its dying occupant were getting to her and she longed to be outside in the sunshine and fresh air. She could even smell his cigarette smoke on her clothes.

“Gina went to her sister Mary’s and she took care of her up until the baby was born.” Bella had to listen, now he’d begun to talk. The old man’s gaze was still fixed on the same patch of carpet, as though it were a crystal ball revealing scenes from the past instead of the future.

“When they lost her at the hospital, through some complication, Mary immediately wanted to keep the bairn for herself. She and her husband had been trying for a baby and had no success. No-one saw the wrong in it, the authorities, my Doris, all thought it a great idea but I were dead against it. My grandson, a living, breathing reminder of The Irishman, the man who’d taken ma daughter from me, tae torment me for the rest of ma days. I would nae hear of it! Have it adopted, I told them, I don’t care what you do but get that baby out of our family!”

“And did Mary keep it?” Bella was trying to urge him along, wanting to go. He gave a wry laugh.

“Of course she kept it but I wouldn’t see her again. Haven’t spoken to her or that husband of hers in all the years since. Doris left, too, eventually because of it, and I came here.”

“And where’s your grandson now?” she asked, innocently, endeavouring to put an end to the tale. Frank Allsop shook his head from side to side, as if unable to believe what he was about to say.

“There’s the laugh of it, lassie. My own family have deserted me but the boy’s the only one to look