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

“Well, not books. Only financial statements, that sort of thing. My sister recommended I read it and I’m glad I did. You’re very….perceptive, Bella. I just felt I had to meet you.” And then he was gone, leaving her as stunned by his sudden departure as she had been by his revelation. There was no doubt in her mind that she’d struck a chord with the book. Of course, the sales reflected the fact but also the amount of feedback she’d got from a wide cross-section of the public, and not just those with elderly relatives.

One of the most touching moments was in Slough, when the parents of a tetraplegic boy had brought in their copy of the book, to be signed, and she remembered the case from news reports. Their son had suffered his terrible injuries in a fall from a building while working on its roof sustaining some damage to his brain as well. After months of their son’s pleading, the father had administered a fatal overdose of sleeping pills to release him from his suffering and was subsequently charged with manslaughter and given a suspended sentence. One of the reasons Arabella recalled it so well was the crass treatment given to such a sensitive issue by one of the tabloids whose headline had screamed “Youthanasia!’ in huge letters.

It was two high-profile cases of mercy-killing, administered by the same doctor in the north of England, that had sown the seed for the book nearly three years previously. The idea had remained dormant for six months until an aunt of hers, of whom she was particularly fond, had suffered a severe stroke. It was only then that the awful tragedy, the heart-breaking sadness of such a case was brought home to her and she had recognised the potential of Lingering Doubts. There was far more of her, Arabella Foxton, in the book than in any of her previous novels which could have been the reason for its success. Also the American publishers had suggested that the book might do better over there if it went out under the name of Bella Foxton, which was the diminuitive preferred by her friends anyway. So, Bella Foxton she had become and the sales were doing very nicely.

Now the promotional roller-coaster had slowed down it was time for her to take stock and think about the future. Travelling to various parts of the country, some delightful others not, had caused Bella to look at her life more closely and to consider decisions not only on lifestyle choices but also where she wanted to live. Like many others she had a love-hate relationship with London. Should she stay or should she go?  On the plus side she had the proximity of parks and gardens, cafes, restaurants, the Albert Hall, the Thames and so much more but....crowds were anathema to her, a particular nightmare being the tube, Then there was the traffic, the pollution and the noise. On the recycled macrocapa coffee table in front of her was a writing pad and pen. The page remained blank although she had been seated on the sofa in her lounge looking at it for 20 minutes. Once again Bella was endeavouring to determine the priorities which would enable her to make a decision but for some reason found it difficult to concentrate. Further thought on the matter was, however, precluded as the warbling tone of her mobile sought her attention and she picked it up from the table.

“Bella Foxton,” she answered, brightly.

“Miss Arabella Foxton?” An educated, confident male voice had pronounced her name slowly with every syllable clearly annunciated. It struck her as the manner in which a detective might speak before making an arrest or, perhaps, a caller about to inform her that she’d won the lottery.

“I am she,” Bella replied, her interest aroused.

“Ben Hollingsworth of Hollingsworth, Hope & Mitchell, solicitors. We are acting on behalf of the estate of your late uncle, Rupert Foxton, Lord Easterbrook.” He paused, to let the information sink in. At the mention of her uncle’s name, a host of images came to mind as Bella recalled her father’s brother, a man she had always called Uncle Foxy. After her father’s death, Rupert had kept a watchful eye over his brother’s three children but Bella had always been his favourite. The funeral had been nearly six months ago and, since then, her schedule had been so hectic she had not given him much thought. The sound of Ben Hollingsworth clearing his throat brought her back to the present.

“I’d just like to say, Miss Foxton, that I’ve read your recent book and was quite impressed by your handling of the subject. Where do you get your advice on legal matters, if I might ask?”

“If you look in the acknowledgements, her name is given there but not her profession. Surely that’s not why you called me, is it?” He chuckled at her remark, a throaty, infectious sound which made her smile.

“No, of course not. Purely professional interest. The reason I’m phoning is to inform you that there is to be a reading of your late uncle’s will, at our offices in The Strand, on the 28th of this month. That’s Thursday week.” With the demands being made on her by the success of the book, Bella had no idea, without consulting her diary, of whether she would be free to attend.

“What happens if I can’t make it?” she felt compelled to ask.

“Suffice to say,” Ben Hollingsworth replied, “that it would be in your interests to attend. There will be a letter of confirmation in tonight’s post and I very much look forward to meeting you.” The connection was broken, leaving Bella in a state of mild excitement as she speculated on the meaning of his statement. If she had felt like having a glass of wine earlier, the need suddenly took on a greater urgency.

The austere environment of the meeting lent an air of propriety to the proceedings which,