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

I can see ‘im there now, a-hangin’ over the pew in front, arms spread wide.” Bella recoiled slightly at the thought of it and he puffed his lips out expelling air noisily. “I can laugh about it now, but I’m a-tellin’ you it wasn’t funny at the time.” Bella looked shocked.

“It sounds awful!” she exclaimed.

“Stopped the service, right there and then, that’s what it did. ‘eart attack, it was. Took ‘im out, clean as a whistle. Old Doc Thomas used to live in Knapthorne then and ‘e was at church. Pronounced ‘im dead, right away, as if’n we couldn’t have told ‘im!” The air in the kitchen was still, the atmosphere heavy. Every so often the sounds of conversation or laughter would drift in to them from one of the bars. Bella had the strangest feeling that the clock had been turned back and they were sitting there in the 1960’s instead of the present time. It was an eerie, inexplicable sensation and she shivered.

“You like a cardigan or sommat to throw round your shoulders, Miss Foxton? Gets a bit chilly in ‘ere out of the sun.” Her smile warmed the room up for him but she shook her head.

“No, I’ll be fine, thanks. Please, carry on with the story.”

“Alfie was out ploughin’ one day, like ‘e’d done year in year out. Nobody knows exactly what ‘appened, cos ‘e was by ‘isself, you understand.” Bella fidgeted on her seat, sensing that she was on the verge of learning something important.

“You knows yourself what the land’s like round ‘ere. Goes up ‘n down like one of them there fairground rides but that shouldn’t a’ been no trouble to Alfie. ‘e’d been ploughing them fields for years. It was Sid who come across ‘im, an’ just as well.”

“Why’s that?”

 “The accident ‘appened some ways from the cottage and Alfie was unconscious. Just laying there, like, the tractor on its side and blood all over ‘is ‘ead.” Bella had no difficulty in picturing the scene. “Poor ol’ Sid thought ‘is boy were dead at first. Fair shook ‘im up, I remembers ‘im sayin’. Anyways, Sid reckoned as nothin’ looked broke so ‘e puts Alfie over ‘is shoulder an’ brings ‘im ‘ome. A mile or more ‘e must ‘ave carried ‘im. There’s not many as could a’ done that!” She recalled the walk to the pub, with Jane. Tried to imagine what it would be like carrying the extra weight.

“What happened then?”

“The ambulance come for ‘im o’ course and they gets ‘im to the ‘ospital, in Dorchester. Fractured skull they said it was. Kept him in for, what’s the word…” Bella was about to supply it, when Samuel’s eyes brightened. “…hobservation,” he said, with a satisfied smile, his eyes seeming to sparkle momentarily behind the thick lenses.

“But that doesn’t explain how he is today, Samuel,” she said softly, feeling quite cheated. “Lots of people gets,” she paused, to correct herself, “get, a fractured skull without ending up doolally as you call it.” He bestowed upon her a kindly look and, even before he opened his mouth to speak, she knew she should have waited. There was obviously more.

“You’re puttin’ the cart afore the ‘orse, so to speak, Miss Foxton. I ain’t finished yet.” With a sigh, he continued, as though it was a painful memory. “Alfie adn’t been ‘ome from the ‘ospital a week when ‘is mother, god bless ‘er soul, finds the boy in bed unconscious so they gets ‘im back there, double-quick like, an’ gives ‘im all sorts o’ tests. Turns out ‘e’s got a blood clot on the brain so they gets some specialist in, to hoperate…”

“Oh, how awful,” Bella put in, sympathetically.

“It was a right drama, I can tell you, Miss. But it didn’t end there.” She looked at him, in surprise. “He goes into a coma for six weeks after. ‘ad everyone in the village, a-worryin’, I can tell you! An’ when he comes round the poor lad’s not got all his marbles.” Samuel Handysides sat back, shaking his head slowly, from side to side. “He stopped breathin’ apparently, twice during the hoperation and they reckons that’s when it ‘appened, the damage to ‘is brain.” The landlord lapsed into silence, not taking his eyes off Bella. Behind the calm, impassive look he was trying to read her mind wondering exactly what thoughts were going through her head.

Samuel Handysides toyed with the cup on the table in front of him, the tea in it now stone cold, as he sat watching Bella. Studying her face it suddenly occurred to him that he had once sat in this very room with her father, many, many years ago. Strange how he had only just remembered it. Given the events that had happened afterwards he was surprised that he’d forgotten about their meeting. It was the only time that he’d ever had the chance to get to know the man, an infrequent visitor to The Lamb, and found him to be witty, irreverent and quite personable, full of Irish charm. The recollection sent a shiver down his back as other, far more unpleasant memories surfaced and he forced them from his thoughts. All the while the set of his features never changed, giving nothing away, as he realised how important it was she believed what he had told her.

“But what I don’t understand, is why was Alfie throwing stones at the cottage, Samuel? And you should have seen the look on his face!” He nodded, knowingly, as if it were no surprise to him, at all.

“Alfie talks about the cottage, quite a lot. Always has done but it’s got worse since you’ve arrived. No offence meant, Miss Foxton,” he added, hurriedly. “There’s something in ‘is brain seems to blame Willow Cottage for all ‘is troubles. The family ‘adn’t long been there when he ‘ad ‘is accident.” Her eyes widened and she leaned forward.

“But you said he’d been ploughing those fields for years!”

“And so ‘e ‘ad!” His reply was almost over-eager