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

of make-up. Certainly, in Bella’s case, the effort was worth it because nobody could argue that she looked stunning but, for all the pleasure it gave her, she was never happier than in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. As far as she knew, none of her female friends were aware that she frequented op shops, looking for clothes, on a regular basis, and obtained as much satisfaction from picking up a bargain as she did when purchasing a brand-new designer label. Satisfied she hadn’t forgotten anything she needed to take with her, Bella was having one last check to make sure everything that should be switched off was and that all the windows were securely locked, when her mobile rang.

“Typical,” she muttered, not recognising the number on the screen. “Bella Foxton?” Relieved it wasn't Laura she didn't immediately recognise the caller's  voice either.

“Bella? It’s Ben. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she replied, a smile in her voice, yet caught off-balance by his call.

“I’ve been looking for an excuse to ring you but couldn’t come up with anything so I thought, to hell with it, I’ll ring anyway. I wondered about lunch, on Sunday?”

“Oh, Ben, I can’t. You’ve literally caught me as I’m about to go out the door. I’m going down to the cottage for the weekend.” Bella felt more than a little disappointed. She would have looked forward to seeing him but there was no way she was going to cancel her trip, though she was flattered by his call. And he was married, she reminded herself.

“Oh, what a pity. Never mind, it was a long shot, anyway, I suppose.” Ben wasn’t about to let it go at that, however. “I am going to need to see you, to tie up the loose ends of your inheritance. How about lunch, on Thursday? You could come to the office first.”

“Sounds fine. I’ll look forward to it. Look, I don’t want to appear rude, Ben, but I would like to get away as soon as possible, what with the traffic and it being the weekend. Just give me a time and I’ll be there.

“How’s 11.30 sound?”

“Terrific. I’ll see you then, ok?”

“Alright. Enjoy your weekend. I’ll be thinking of you.”

As she took the M25 to get south of the city, Bella thought about the implication of those parting words of his on the phone. It might just have been a comment made on the spur of the moment but it certainly put a more personal emphasis on things. What would his wife say, for instance, if she knew what he’d be thinking about over the weekend? The thought amused Bella but only because she was seeing herself in a different light. Not so long ago, the illicit nature of the liaison alone would have been a temptation in itself. She recalled a quote from a literary friend, who said that Dickens had summed up adultery perfectly with the title, A Tale of Two Cities, with reference to duplicity and complicity. A sudden cacophony, right beside Bella made her jump and put an abrupt end to her speculation. A driver in the next lane, on her right, had given a blast on his air horns, accompanied by flashing headlights, as an inducement to the driver in front of him to pull over. With the traffic moving at over seventy miles an hour and all three lanes busy what did he expect the car in front of him to do, she wondered. A quick glance to her right identified the driver as a young male, probably early 20’s, with a clean-shaven head, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. It was a cloudy, overcast sort of day, threatening rain. Without warning, as a gap opened up in her lane, the car on her right accelerated and swerved in front of Bella, causing her momentarily to brake sharply and she watched, in disbelief, as he passed on the inside of the car in the outside lane. In a triumphant gesture to the other driver, he stabbed the air with the middle finger of his right hand then swerved back into the outside lane. Fortunately for her, the car behind wasn’t too close but, if it had have been, a serious accident could have resulted. Bella had broken out in a cold sweat, regardless. As her pulse began to return to normal, she thought of the wide, quiet main street running through Knapthorne and the rural peacefulness of Spinney Lane.  What on earth was she doing in this rat race? As far as she was concerned, the sooner she arrived at Willow Cottage the better.

The rain had started by the time she got there but it didn’t dampen her enthusiasm in the least. As soon as she had forsaken the motorways for the Dorset roads, a calmness had settled over her and even the nagging insistence of her headache had finally disappeared. It felt so good to be out of the hustle and bustle and into the tranquillity of the countryside that she began to hum to herself as she drove along, eventually coming to the turn-off at Spinney Lane. Even a distant peal of thunder couldn’t dent the exhilaration she was experiencing through the sheer anticipation of seeing the cottage again. Identifying the tall oak at the end of the drive, she turned in. Inexplicably she felt a mixture of nervousness and excitement, like a bride arriving at the church, now that she was here on her own and it struck her for the first time, how isolated the property was. Coming to the final bend in the drive, she put the thought out of her mind, as she took the corner and the cottage was there in front of her. Bella still couldn’t take in the fact that the place was hers. It had been hard enough coming to terms with Rupert’s death, knowing that she would never see him again. Now, his altruism had reached out from beyond