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

keep her eyes open, none the wiser for all her mental peregrination. Within minutes of her head hitting the pillow she was asleep, her breathing slow and rhythmic, eyes firmly closed. But, in the depths of the night, with her room bathed in eerie light from the incandescent glow of the full moon, Bella’s eyelids began to flicker as images came to her in the form of a dream. Under the duvet, her body twisted and turned as, in her mind, she tried to evade her pursuers. The shouts and cries came ever closer, occupying her attention, and she missed her footing, falling forwards, tumbling headlong into darkness.

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Chapter Twelve

He had been cruising the city’s red light area for nearly ten minutes looking for a likely pick-up. Backwards and forwards, up and down, blatantly staring at the youngest of the girls as they stood, hips thrust out provocatively with their little micro-skirts barely covering their buttocks, calling out to him as he slowly drove past. Displaying their wares as they did, in one of the oldest shop windows in the world, little was left to the imagination in their efforts to attract the punters. It was late, after 1am, and the rain which had earlier lashed the city had died away to a fine misty drizzle, creating fuzzy halos around the regiments of street lamps and softening the glare from the nocturnal overseers of the city’s highways. It invested the area with a patina of unreality, as though it were an elaborately staged film set rather than the sleazy, fertile breeding ground for innumerable sexual liaisons that it really was. The sweet smell of marijuana perfumed the interior of the station wagon, the occasional joint seeming not only to relax him but also further stimulate his compulsive desire. The urge for sex was overwhelming but he just couldn’t bring himself to pull up by one of the girls although the sight of their barely-clad young bodies, with so much flesh exposed was sorely tempting. Finally, he depressed the accelerator firmly and took off with a squeal of tyres, fuming at himself in an angry response to the knowledge that he simply didn’t have the nerve to sink so low. Two of the girls, in shouting distance of one another, exchanged vulgar, derogatory comments, accompanied by loud hoots of laughter, as they watched the station wagon’s tail lights disappear in the mist. Often potential punters would turn up, cruising the streets, on three or four different occasions before they plucked up the courage to stop and, even though the driver of the station wagon wasn’t yet aware of the fact, they knew he’d be back.

There were other places he could go, looking for someone who needed a lift, perhaps. Someone a little drunk after a party, grateful for a ride and willing to show it. All the while, as he drove around checking pavements and doorways like some hungry raptor, memories of the past months flashed into his mind stirring up the embers of a fire that had ignited once too often and destroyed his marriage. Remorse and self-pity gnawed away at him, combining to kindle the spark of hurt and frustration into the dull glow of anger. The loss of his wife, Kay, had proved difficult to come to terms with but it was he who had driven her away with his outbursts of temper. For much of the time he had remained the same brash, some would say slightly arrogant, and amusing man she loved, outwardly charming and personable. But another, darker side of his character had begun to surface, prompting sudden, ugly mood swings and alienating those around him. These were sometimes prefaced by a brooding silence and Kay had learned, by bitter experience, not to enquire if he was ok. Suddenly, she had to watch her step for, without warning, the slightest difference of opinion or a silly argument could provoke him to suddenly erupt like an angry volcano. One of the reasons their relationship had endured was because they loved to talk to one another. Not only talk but, from time to time, get involved in heated debates over issues that were of concern to either one of them. From the most trivial topic of conversation to matters of great importance, they discussed everything. There were no taboos of a personal or intimate nature and sometimes they were liable to shock friends or acquaintances with their frankness. Couples often lose the art of conversation after being together for many years or just make do with the minimum to facilitate a sustainable relationship. It was not surprising then, that in the social circles they inhabited they were viewed with some admiration, people often remarking that they behaved more like a couple on their first date, each interested in what the other had to say. When they went to their local, Kay would often remark with great amusement on the behaviour of some of the older couples who sat, motionless as Easter Island stone statues, with their drinks on the table in front of them, staring into the middle distance without a word passing between them. Once, she had pointed a pair of old codgers out and said, laughingly, “That’ll be us one day, just you wait and see!”

Kay had found herself living on her nerves, unable to cope, never certain if the least inconsequential thing would act as a trigger.  A marriage of nearly fifteen years blown away, like confetti scattered on the wind, by the demons that had beset him. She had begged him to seek help after suffering his verbal and physical abuse for almost six months, stunned by the bewildering change in his personality, but he had stubbornly refused afraid of what the outcome might be. They had known each other from university and her departure devastated him. At first, all he wanted was to get her back and when she steadfastly refused he began dating other women to spite Kay