“No,” Bella said, absently, certain that Alfie had been trying to tell her something. “Not at all.”
When she walked out into the car park, her eyes were drawn to the night sky and, looking upwards, she saw the huge array of stars clearly visible in the vast, infinite blackness above her. Unable to recall when she had last seen such a display, it served to remind her of how different things were to London, where she couldn’t even recall the last time she’d looked skywards at night, let alone seen a star. The sheer scale of the universe made her feel miniscule, insignificant, and whether this affected her more deeply than she realised Bella wasn’t sure but, suddenly, she was overcome by loneliness. Tiredness and alcohol didn’t help, she knew, as their combined effect tended to bring the softer side of her to the surface but sharing the rest of the night with someone would have been the perfect end to the day. But then the thought of waking with another person and having her space invaded the next morning, brought her to her senses and she got into the car with a lighter heart. Everything would fall into place, in its own good time, she told herself, knowing that getting into a relationship was the easy part. She had a book to write and that was her first priority. Realising how tired she was, Bella was thankful that the drive back to the cottage only took a short time. Once back inside, she checked that all doors and windows were securely locked then settled into her makeshift bed on the sofa and got herself comfortable. The bedding on the double bed upstairs had felt damp and needed airing.
At some point she had experienced a feeling of mild concern about being alone in the cottage at night, way out in the country, but now she was too weary to care. Sleep came quickly as first she lay thinking about the still of the evening, then the woman in the toilets at The Lamb and, finally, the room at the top of the house where she would write. In its tired state, her mind leapt from one image to another, randomly, before she drifted off. It was not a restful night, however. When in the deepest of sleeps, she imagined herself running through undergrowth, desperately pushing aside leaves and branches in her haste. Then she heard sounds, distant at first, becoming aware of people shouting as they got closer. They kept coming, on and on, getting closer still and she began to run faster, until she could feel her heart thumping as terror took hold of her. It was getting dark, and difficult to see the way, then suddenly she tripped and started to fall, falling down and down but the ground wasn’t there. She just kept plummeting downwards until….Bella woke with a start, drenched in sweat and unsure of her whereabouts.
She looked at the travelling alarm clock on the table beside her. Its luminous readout announced that it was twelve minutes past three in the morning and she groaned inwardly. Then she remembered where she was. The cottage was silent as the grave as her eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness, for very little light filtered through the heavy lounge curtains. Her breathing was still laboured and she felt exhausted, as though she had been physically involved in the chase she had dreamed about. Bella forced herself to get up as she urgently needed to go to the toilet and also wanted to fetch a glass of water but she was trying to recall her dream in its every detail. It was not a common experience for her to have dreams and she had found it especially unsettling, being in strange surroundings. At last, she came to her senses and grabbed the torch from the table, next to the clock, to help locate the light switch. There was a chill to the atmosphere and she shivered as she climbed the stairs. The dream was bothering her but she knew that being alone, in the middle of the night, wasn’t helping either. Sitting on the toilet, she had the idea of writing down a description of the dream while it was fresh in her memory. Why not? She did it with other experiences. The thought of trying to go straight back to sleep, didn’t appeal greatly, so it would also help to make her tired. A short time later, she had seated herself at the kitchen table, pen in hand, glass of water at her side, and had begun committing her recollections to paper.
Waking up in strange surroundings, tucked into a sleeping bag, took Bella back to her childhood and camping holidays with family and friends in her mother’s beloved Tuscany. Through having been up in the middle of the night it felt like she’d only just got off to sleep and her eyes were tired and scratchy. As she went to turn over, a sharp stabbing pain lanced through her lower back and, in the process of slowly becoming more awake, awareness of the dull ache in her arms took hold. She had slept on the sofa, and grabbed hold of the back of it now to pull herself up into a sitting position. Damage assessment revealed no more suffering than she would have expected from the previous day’s cleaning and knew that a bath or shower would help things considerably. Daylight awaited beyond the curtains although she had no idea yet what time it was as the alarm clock seemed to have disappeared off the table. Outside, the still of the night had been replaced by a chorus of birdsong, something Bella hadn’t woken to for years. Slumping back down, she allowed herself the broadest of smiles before unzipping the sleeping bag and swinging her feet to the floor. The back pain niggled at her and she massaged it gently as she went round pulling the curtains to reveal broad patches of blue sky dappled with clouds, some grey, others white.
Fully awake, at last, hunger transcended her every other need and she shuffled to the kitchen, still dressed in what she had worn to The Lamb, the night before. Rumpled and grubby, looking like she’d just come in from an all-night party, Bella wandered around the kitchen, preparing her breakfast, still wondering whether her dream had any significance. With the bread being toasted and the kettle on the boil, she unlocked the kitchen door and stepped out into the crisp morning air. It was country-fresh and she inhaled deeply, taking in the view of the garden in all its glory. She was no gardener but even she could tell it was out of control and knew she’d have to get someone in to look after it. From her first visit, she’d got a picture in her mind’s eye of how she wanted it to look but it wasn’t something she viewed as a priority. Get it tidied up first, then take another look. Suddenly, Bella gave a shriek and did a little skip backwards as something rubbed against her leg. Looking down she saw the most gorgeous cat. It was not a kitten, being quite large, and it had a healthy-looking coat of short, dark hair. At first she thought it was black but, as she knelt down to stroke it, on closer inspection it turned out to be a deep chocolate brown.
“Hello, beautiful! Where did you come from?”
Wherever she went, the cat followed. Bella, who had never owned a pet in her life, was captivated at first. It sat around in the kitchen, purring contentedly while she had her breakfast, defying Bella’s attempts to shoo it out the door into the garden. She tried ignoring it but when she started folding up her sleeping bag, the cat jumped up onto it, wanting to play. It began to test her patience because she was feeling a little frayed around the edges from her disturbed night. Deciding to go up and have a shower, she grabbed her tote bag from the corner and so did the cat. Prising it off, gently, Bella headed for the stairs and when she looked back, the cat was still sitting in the corner, looking up at her, like an inscrutable stone sculpture. Once under the stinging needle-like jets of the powerful shower, she felt refreshed and for several minutes she stood, motionless, giving herself up to the remedial effect of the water and feeling her body relax. Her thoughts drifted to Ben, wondering what he was doing right at this moment. I’ll be thinking of you, he had said. Was he thinking of her right now? She grinned lasciviously and reached for the soap, starting to wash her arms and shoulders. Closing her eyes she moved her hands down to soap her breasts and gave a sharp intake of breath as they proved to be ultra-sensitive. It was a sure sign her period was due and the pain that came with it. It would explain the headaches, too. She was only thankful it hadn’t happened before the weekend. When she had finished, she turned the water off and opened the door of the cubicle. There right in the middle of the pile of her discarded clothes, sat the cat and she feigned a look of displeasure.
“And who said you could sit there?” The cat, miaowed, seeking attention, as Bella reached for her towel.
“Don’t you have a home somewhere, hm?” She bent down and patted the animal’s head. There was no collar or tag around the cat’s neck. No means whatsoever of identification. Secretly, she was beginning to enjoy its company.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said, speaking to it as though it were a young child. “Just let me dry myself and get dressed and we’ll see if we can’t find you a drink of milk. What d’you say to that?” As if it understood, the cat’s purr took on a deep resonance.
In no time at all, this being only her second visit, Bella had come to feel very much at home in the cottage. More and more she was of the opinion that she would like to use it as her base and go back to London when it suited her. The success of her last book had disrupted the normal pattern of her life and, in itself, caused her to think more closely about what she was doing and what direction she wanted her life to take. So, even before the cottage had become a fait accompli, Bella had put her life under the microscope. As she had said to Ben, something wasn’t right. A way of life that she had enjoyed for years was suddenly in question, probably for a number of different reasons, but she knew now that fate had intervened and it was up to her to seize the opportunity. She finished dressing and put her wet hair up in a towel, before going down to the kitchen. Her enthusiasm for finishing off the cleaning had diminished but she knew it had to be done and then she’d like to take a good look around the garden,
“What are you like with a vacuum cleaner?” she asked the cat, hopefully, as she opened the fridge door. The only milk she had was UHT and she wasn’t sure if the cat would like it. Her worries proved superfluous as it despatched the offering rapidly and sat licking its lips before it started on a well-practised cleaning routine. Bella made herself another coffee and began drying her hair, the ache in her muscles beginning to recede and her thoughts turned to how quickly she could set herself up to work from the cottage. The idea of bringing her laptop down from London didn’t appeal, it would be simple to buy another one and install it here. She had spotted the telephone connection points but hadn’t seen an actual phone in the house but that was not important. Her mobile seemed to function ok but her understanding of Wifi was matched by her knowledge of quantum gravity. As long she could get an Internet connection that was all she was worried about. Coffee cup in hand and towel over one arm, she left the kitchen and headed for the stairs, making for the room in the roof. The cat padded along, a little way behind, its tail perpendicular, like a ship’s mast. Bella was enjoying herself. She felt excited by the prospect of this sudden opportunity that had opened up for her. As she stepped across the threshold into the room she studied the whole area and tried to visualise the best way to set it up. The dormer windows she had first seen, from the front, were repeated on the other side of the house, letting in a good deal of natural light but probably not enough to facilitate a good working environment. Setting up a desk underneath one of the windows, along one side, would probably be the most sensible thing. Her thoughts were interrupted by the cat, bunting at her legs with its head.
“Look, you,” she said, gently chiding it. “Somebody’s probably wondering where you are.” She bent down and stroked its head and the cat stretched its neck upwards, almost appearing to have a smile on its face. “I think you could put up with this all day, couldn’t you?”
The morning sun’s rays streamed into the room, from the front of the cottage, and Bella imagined it would get quite warm as the day progressed. That was something she’d have to bear in mind but, for now, seeing the sun made her anxious to get out into the garden as soon as possible. For being able to work from here wasn’t the only bonus. The apartment in Holland Park didn’t even have a window box so the thought of having her very own garden was sheer heaven. She decided that, before she left to go back, she would take the measurements of the room then she could play around with how she would like it to be, in her own time. Never far from her thoughts was the deadline for the book and the fact that she should be giving serious thought to it, right now. If she left it for too long, there would be Jane to contend with.
“Ok, cat, we got work to do. Let’s go get the vacuum cleaner.”
As soon as she switched the cleaner on, not surprisingly, the cat disappeared. It wasn’t long before Bella started to warm up from the effort of pushing the cleaner around so she peeled off her sweatshirt and continued in t-shirt and jeans. After working her way round the ground floor she was desperately in need of a caffeine fix and stopped for a coffee. It wasn’t until she was seated on the sofa, coffee by her side, that she realised the cat was nowhere to be seen but she wasn’t allowed to dwell on the fact as the ringing of her mobile distracted her and she had to remember where she’d put it. Following the direction of the sound, she tracked it down to the kitchen, where she had left it on charge, overnight.
“Bella Foxton!” she said, with a sigh, beginning to sag a little.
“Bella, where are you?” She recognised the voice of Jonathan Carey, a photographer friend whom she’d known almost as long as she’d been in England.
“Jonathan, hi! I’m in Knapthorne.” That’ll serve him right for asking, she thought.
“Where the hell’s that?”
“In the wilds of Dorset, seeing as you ask.” There was a stunned silence on the other end of the line. “Didn’t expect that, did you?”
“Well, no, I certainly didn’t. I rang to ask you what you’re doing for lunch but I guess I’ve got my answer.” Jon had been her first lover, in England, and they’d managed to remain friends ever since. Many’s the time they’d cried on each other’s shoulders and, somewhere along the line, Jon had been married twice, and divorced. “I feel quite disappointed now, I was looking forward to seeing you.”
“Yes, it’s been a while, hasn’t it.” Suddenly, she wanted to see him, to let him know what had happened, knowing he’d be pleased for her and as excited as she was. Perhaps he’d even like to come down, one weekend. “Maybe we can meet during the week, how does that sound?”
“I’ll have to check my diary, I’m not at home, otherwise I’d love to. What d’you want to do?”
“How about I give you a ring tonight, when I get back? You going to be in?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there. Look forward to your call, then.”
“Ok. Thanks for ringing.” His call gave her a new lease of life and she returned to do battle with the vacuum cleaner with renewed gusto, turning her attention to the upper floors.
It seemed like she’d been cleaning for ever but, finally, she’d got it all done, having just finished the small bedroom. Exhausted, her t-shirt wet with perspiration, she leaned against the wall and slowly let herself slide to the floor. With her head resting on her knees, she closed her eyes and realised she was starving. And nothing in the house to eat. Her initial plan had been to take a slow drive back to London, late Sunday morning and have lunch somewhere that took her fancy along the way. Her head slumped further forward. The thought of going down The Lamb didn’t appeal so she might have to look further afield. All of a sudden she felt close to tears. How stupid could she have been? She might have known that it was fanciful, to say the least, to think she’d get away Sunday morning. Well, there’s nothing for it, she thought, pulling herself together, but to have a shower then take a drive. Picking herself up from the floor, and feeling quite miserable, she trudged along to the bathroom and began stripping off. She was in the middle of giving herself a good talking to, when she stopped, and listened. Was that a noise from downstairs? Stark naked, holding the shower door open and listening intently she definitely heard a noise. Louder this time. Something or someone was in the cottage.
Dressing quickly she looked around for anything to arm herself with but found nothing. Bella tried taking deep breaths to calm her racing heartbeat. What to do? She was at the top of the stairs when more sounds came from below. For someone who prided herself on her imagination her mind was in lockdown. Panic seized her as the realisation of her isolated location hit ho
me. She made a tentative move to silently negotiate the top stair, hoping to get a better look downstairs but nerves affected Bella's concentration and she missed her footing. With a cry of alarm she tumbled down the staircase, hitting her head on the post at the bottom of the bannister.
Bella's vision, blurred at first, came slowly back into focus at the same time as she became aware of the searing pain over her right eye. Her mind began to function, and fear struck her as she recalled her situation. It registered on her face and she began to shake as shock took over. The noise in the cottage. An intruder? Lying at the bottom of the stairs and hardly able to move Bella was taken aback to see a severe-looking woman of ample proportions, about seventy-ish, appearing from out of the kitchen holding a glass of liquid.
"You'm had a nasty fall, young miss. Let me help you up then we'll sit you down. Lord knows what you think you were doing!"
The incident had shaken Bella more than she'd be prepared to admit and it took some time for her to regain her composure. The woman,'s attitude didn't help. No-nonsense most certainly. Intimidating definitely.
"I knew you was here so's I thought I'd bring you something to eat," she said, sounding affronted. "I called out when I let meself in......"
"The shower was going," Bella explained in a small voice. "I heard nothing until..."
"I always bangs about in the kitchen," she confessed. "Always have, always will and that's all there is to it. I didn't mean you no harm!"
Bella closed her eyes against the throbbing pain in her temple. She just wanted the woman to go.
"I'm sure you didn't, Mrs...." she looked up at the woman enquiringly.
"Flint," she answered curtly. "Cora Flint." Bella waited for any further information but it became obvious it wasn't forthcoming.
The Knapthorne Conspiracy Page 10
