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

the familiar tide of fear and uncertainty washed over her. Her parents were arguing again. Laura crept to her bedroom door, all her senses on alert, and made her way along the landing to the top of the stairs. She was in her school uniform except for her socks which she had been about to put on in preparation for Patrick to run her to school. Her sister had already departed having been picked up by one of the mother’s who also had a child at Arabella’s primary school. For a moment she hesitated as the sanctuary of her bedroom beckoned and she thought about running back and shutting herself in, barricading herself from yet another row but curiosity overwhelmed her. A compelling fascination with discord and disharmony drew her inexorably downward, her hands gripping the bannister to steady her progress. At the bottom of the stairs Laura stopped, listening intently, then she turned towards the kitchen. The voices were louder from here of course but she still couldn’t make out the actual words. There was nothing for it but to get closer. As she placed one foot carefully in front of the other she could feel the beat of her heart thumping in her chest. Damp patches showed at the armpits of her school blouse and a nagging pain began to throb at her temples. Any moment the door could fly open and she would be discovered eavesdropping on their argument. Laura got as close as she dare, her parents seemingly at the far end of the kitchen, then sucked in her breath as she heard her sister’s name mentioned not once but twice. Shouted, in fact. First by Patrick then her mother. She held her breath, concentrating as hard as she could to try and understand what they were saying. Patrick’s voice was bitter and accusing, laced with anger, sending a tremor of fear through Laura but she couldn’t tear herself away. Her mother’s tone was sometimes defensive, sometimes not, rising to a crescendo when she broke into her native tongue. Like the crack of a whip, the sound of a vicious slap was followed by a dreadful silence and Laura decided she had to get out of there fast. Patrick was far too obsessed in his anger to notice Laura’s bare feet disappearing up the stairs as fast as they would carry her as he stormed out of the kitchen towards the front door of the house. Back in the safety of her bedroom and trembling from head to foot after her narrow escape, it seemed to Laura as though the whole house shook as her father slammed the front door after him. Downstairs in the kitchen Maria covered her face with her hands, pressing the fingertips into her forehead to try and ease the pain. The force of Patrick’s blow had given her an instant, savage headache and the pain in the left side of her face was shocking in its intensity. It was a little time before a reaction set in then a virtually soundless sobbing wracked her body in gulping, staccato spasms of grief and sorrow as she fought to hold back the tears. When she finally slid her hands down, away from her face, the livid imprint of Patrick’s hand was still clearly visible.

The memory of the door slamming jerked Laura back into a consciousness of her present surroundings but her recollections had served to kindle the flame of her hatred for Bella and keep it burning. Life had been so good until the birth of her sister. Driving Patrick away, to his death, had changed everything once and for all and it was all Bella’s fault. More so even than when her father was alive, Laura had seized every opportunity to antagonise and belittle her sister to the point where her mother had once taken her to see a psychiatrist. But Laura was devious, cunning and very bright and acted absolutely normally showing no signs of the truculent, disturbed child her mother thought her to be. Now, the rancour lingering from more recent events was eating away at her, demanding that she act in some way to exact retribution. She mulled the situation over in her mind, thinking about the cottage and her sister. Her and that smartass lawyer she was obviously having an affair with. How dare she flaunt him under her nose like that, knowing she was coming to visit? And then lock her out of the house while they’re away getting up to God know’s what. An idea came to her, right at that moment. Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing her sister was having an affair with the lawyer who was the executor of Rupert’s will. What was it the Yanks said? Leverage. In her mind she pronounced it the American way rhyming it with beverage. That’s the word. It might just give her a bit of leverage.

Chapter Sixteen

True to his word Samuel Handysides had got someone to come up and fix the windows at Willow Cottage. The damage hadn’t been severe as each window comprised twelve small panes of glass and only a single pane had been smashed in two separate windows. The man had arrived at about 4-o-clock, apparently having been earlier to measure them up. Bella had heard the sound of his vehicle arriving and went down to speak to him briefly, mindful of how her every action appeared to be communicated through the village. Close to sixty, one way or the other, he was dressed in an old grey suit which hung baggily on his spare frame. Tall with a craggy weather-worn face he wore a permanent, morose expression and had a slight stoop, as though he’d been leaning into a strong wind all his life. Where Samuel Handysides had found someone in Knapthorne she had no idea but he had finished the job in less than an hour and Bella had heard him leave in the old Bedford truck