A wide selection from her wardrobe was laid out across her bed and Bella stood back looking at it all, still unsure of what she should be taking. She had given herself strict instructions to keep it simple, but what confronted her was anything but. What would she need it all for? It was Dorset, not Davos. And why was it so hard to choose? Look, she told herself, you’re not going to be away for ever. It’s mainly sloppy, casual stuff for daywear and maybe three or four outfits for going out somewhere nice. Settle on that and get on with it. While she was deliberating over what to put back, her mobile rang and she picked it up, glad of the interruption.
“Bella Foxton!” She waited for the voice of the caller but nothing came, and then the call was disconnected. Shrugging it off, she decided to ring for the pizza seeing as she had the phone in her hand. The company’s number was programmed into the phone’s memory and she could almost taste the anchovies as she called. It had to be the Seafood Special with extra anchovies, as it was a celebration. Within less than a minute she had placed her order and felt very content at the prospect of the evening in front of her. Was it too early for a glass of wine, she wondered? Probably, but what the heck? There was still the matter of the packing that was concerning her and she should also make a list of all the things that she needed to take care of before she left. Maria had got her into the habit of making lists, right from the time when she used to send her out for the shopping, in Lucca, because Bella had made so many mistakes. She remembered those times fondly, recalling her mother as a warm, caring person with an infectious vitality. It prompted Bella to think how much she really missed her, another example of the fickle wind that buffeted her emotions. If there is any one person I’d want to visit me, at the cottage, she admitted to herself, it’s Maria. I must ring her and invite her to stay. The thought fortified her and she made a promise to call her before she left. As she got up from the table there was a ring at the door. In good spirits, Bella went out to the hallway and opened the door. Laura, her face a picture of malevolence, enjoyed the moment as she watched the smile fade from her sister’s face.
“Sister, dear, how nice to see you again, so soon!” Bella made no attempt to invite her in. She had been expecting the pizza delivery man, thinking he’d got there in record time.
“Laura!…” Bella was at a loss for something to say.
“Surprised to see me? She looked like the cat that had got the cream.
“What are you doing here? What do you want?” After their last meeting, Bella was instantly suspicious.
“Well, if you invited me in, like most normal people would do, you’ll find out, won’t you.” Having got the idea of a quiet restful evening settled in her mind, the last thing Bella wanted was to have Laura come in.
“Why don’t you just tell me, here. As it happens I was planning to have a bath, then go to bed. I’ve got a lot on tomorrow.” Laura looked at her watch, in an exaggerated fashion.
“At 7-o-clock? My sister going to bed? I don’t think so, Arabella. Come on, let me in. I’ll only be a few minutes.” Her attitude only made Bella all the more determined to keep her out and she wanted to have her gone before the pizza was delivered. In the dark recesses of her mind, Bella’s brain suddenly made a connection.
“That was you, on the phone earlier wasn’t it?” She could see it in Laura’s face, her sister didn’t have to say anything.
“For god’s sake, Laura, what are you playing at? At least speak to me if you want to find out that I’m in.” Bella sighed, heavily. She seemed to be sighing a lot, lately. “Just what is it you want? Tell me and be on your way. I’m really feeling rather tired.” Laura adopted a look of mock sympathy.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Arabella, dear. Well, I won’t keep you. I wanted to let you know when Maggie and I will be coming down, that’s all.” Bella’s face darkened and she felt her blood rising.
“What’s prompted the sudden interest, Laura? Why are you doing this?” There was the vestige of a smile on her sister’s face but there was no warmth about it. It was a cold, calculating look that was reflected in the tone of her voice.
“For years I had to put up with you and mother acting like I didn’t exist, or I was some kind of second class person. You and all that patronising crap you used to come out with. You’ve no idea how I despised you, Arabella!” She spat the words out, her face contorted by hate, and Bella was appalled by her sister’s accusations.
“That’s not true, Laura, and you know it…how can you even think…”
“I don’t think, Arabella, I know! I was there, remember? What a crock of fucking shit you made my life. Well, it’s payback time. As usual, you’ve got what you wanted. A nice little cottage in the country. Well whoop-de-doop! Your sister would like to share in your good fortune, so I’m making a booking for the weekend after next, whether you like it or not!” Behind Laura, and to her right, the floor indicator light came on above the lift doors and the bell pinged as the lift arrived. Bella saw the pizza delivery man step out and walk towards her. Laura turned at the sound of his approach.
“Seafood Special for Foxton?” Bella had the money in her hand and passed it across in exchange for the flat package. The delivery man thanked her and headed back to the lift.
“I guess I’m not invited in for dinner, so I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be in touch for the address and directions.” The pizza smelled delicious and Laura looked at the package enviously. “Don’t eat it too quickly, sister dear. I wouldn’t want you to choke on it .” Amused at the thought she turned away and laughed all the way over to the lift. Bella slammed the door, fiercely, to shut out the grating, offensive sound and, fraught with conflicting emotions, burst into tears.
Driving down to the cottage, the day after her confrontation with Laura, Bella was still plagued by a headache which had started even before she had gone to bed the previous night. The evening had not gone well from the moment her sister had left. Having been on a high, moments before answering the door, it was not surprising that Laura’s outrageous behaviour had been responsible for destroying Bella’s mood. Not only had she been unable to stop crying for some time but the experience had also served to kill her appetite. It had, however, tempted her to drink more wine than she usually would have done and she knew she was paying the price for it now. Red wine, too. She felt seedy in the extreme. It was not the way she had imagined her great adventure would start. It was a good job Jonathan couldn't see her, she thought, but knowing him he would have laughed anyway. It occurred to her that perhaps that’s what she ought to be doing but somehow it wasn’t possible to find anything funny in Laura’s antics. And why, all of a sudden, had her sister’s behaviour reduced her to tears? Bella couldn’t understand it. She wasn’t normally the sort of person who cried easily but on more than one occasion recently she had felt close to tears. Even now, as the events of last night preyed on her mind, she was feeling weepy. Had the pressure of the past weeks taken more out of her than she would care to admit? For once in her life she was beginning to question things that, previously, she would never even have thought about. In the past, life had just flowed and she had taken each day as it came, rather like a marriage, for better or worse, and got on with it. Was it a case of simply getting older and not being as resilient? Older? How old was thirty-four? And why had she begun to feel happier with her own company? The miles slipped past as she tried to put everything into perspective but the process of self-examination posed many questions she couldn’t answer and only served to make her feel tired. And the headache wouldn’t go away. Through it all, the prospect of going down to the cottage comforted her. For the first time in her life she felt vulnerable, in some strange, inexplicable way. She felt a weight bearing down on her, associated with recent events in her life, that she couldn’t identify but knew that she needed to get right away from London as quickly as possible. The thought of getting to Willow Cottage spurred her on and she pushed her foot down firmly on the accelerator, feeling the response as the car surged ahead.
>
Chapter Eight
The silence was a luxury, a precious commodity in today’s raucous, noisy world. Bella lay and wallowed in it, and the darkness that engulfed her. It was not yet 5am but soon the vanguard of the dawn chorus would mark the beginning of another fine summer’s day and she knew she should rise. What day was it? Wednesday. She had been at the cottage for just two days. Her thoughts went back to when she had first arrived, late Monday afternoon, relieved to be away from London, and Laura in particular, but still feeling the effects of the previous night. The tension was there in her neck and shoulders and she had sat, for a moment, just moving her head in a circular motion to try and ease it, before getting out the car. Throwing her things just inside the lobby, she had decided that the best therapy was to relax, perhaps have an early meal, a bath and then bed. Had that really been two days ago? Yesterday, she had woken after a good night’s sleep to find a glorious morning waiting for her and it was just the tonic she needed.
There was plenty to do and she had wanted to keep herself busy. An early start had meant she could get into Dorchester, look round the shops, and be back before lunch. The phone technician had arranged to be there in the early part of the afternoon and he duly arrived, much to Bella’s relief. By the time he had gone, she was feeling more like her old self although there remained some discomfort around her shoulders, and her wrists ached a little, but she put it down to the driving. Bella had always managed to avoid the fitness craze that had swept the country in the last decade, seeming to have a metabolism that kept her in perfect shape notwithstanding her minor excesses. But since acquiring the cottage she had promised herself that she would get into a routine of going for a walk when she was there. Every day, if she could, otherwise as often as possible. When she had walked up the garden, on her last visit, she recalled seeing a well-defined track running across the fields, into the distance, and thought she’d explore that at her first opportunity. It looked to go in the direction of the village and it would be interesting to find out if you could actually get to the main street that way. She had it in mind to go for a short walk this afternoon, after setting up the room upstairs.
It was nearly five-o-clock by the time she left the cottage, wearing a quilted anorak over her sweatshirt as the evenings could be chilly, and followed the path to the end of the garden. Running through the trees that marked the boundary, was a series of slim wooden posts, each about four feet high and two–and-a-half inches square. They were roughly six feet apart and supported three individual strands of wire, spaced at twelve-inch intervals, and formed the fence for the property. Tall grasses and bracken had sprung up along the fence line, on either side, but it wasn’t difficult for her to squeeze herself through between two strands of wire and step into the field beyond. The land here sloped gently up to the immediate horizon, in front of her, and there was a crop of either maize or corn, flourishing in the afternoon sun, for as far as the eye could see. It seemed as though there had been a path, at one time, running along her boundary line but it was now quite overgrown. Bella followed it to her left and it took her down the side of her property, leading to the road. It was now possible to see that the track that she had first seen, also came out to the road, on her left, about thirty yards away, where the road took a sharp bend to the right. She started along towards it when her mobile, in a pocket of the anorak, began to ring. Bella thought it a strangely incongruous sound in the rural setting, as she stopped to answer it. A male voice spoke before she had a chance to say anything.
“Bella? Is that you?” To her delight, it was Ben Hollingsworth.
“Ben, where have you been? I’ve been waiting for your call!” She hadn’t realised how pleased she would be to hear his voice.
“Sorry, Bella, things have been a little busy lately…”
“But surely you could have phoned? It must be all of three weeks since I came in to see you. I thought you’d forgotten about me.” She was teasing him but his next remark took the grin off of her face.
“No excuses, I’ve just been run off my feet. One of the partners dropped dead in the office a couple of weeks ago. It was awful…” Now, of course, she felt terrible. Without fully realising it, she started walking again.
“Oh, Ben, how dreadful! Was he very old?”
“She," Ben corrected her. "Just turned fifty, a couple of weeks ago. Her married daughter’s expecting a baby any time, it would have been her first grand-daughter, too!”
“That’s so sad. It’s such a shock when something like that happens…”
“It threw us into a bit of a panic, I can tell you. Donna, the woman who died, was notoriously bad at keeping records and we had the devil of a time trying to sort everything out. Anyway,” he said, after a brief pause, “What are you up to? Are they birds I can hear in the background?”
“Yes, starlings I think. There’s hundreds of them flying around…”
“Where are you?” She could tell that he was obviously intrigued.
“Walking along the track that runs across the fields out the back of the cottage.”
“You’re at Willow Cottage?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I’m doing exactly what Rupert would have wanted?”
“Uncle Foxy?”
“Hey, come on, don’t be cheeky. I’ve moved in for the time being to start work. I’ve got a deadline to meet for the new book.”
“What about the formidable Mrs. Flint?”
“What about her?”
“Have you seen her again?”
“I’ve only been here a couple of days but no, I haven’t.” There was silence between them, for a moment.
“When am I going to see you, then?” Ben asked, sounding a little miffed.
“That’s a good question,” Bella replied, steadily approaching the brow of the hill. “The only way that’s going to happen is if you come down here.” He turned his mind to the possibilities knowing how difficult it was likely to be and, for an instant, she thought they’d been cut off. “Ben? You still there?”
“Yes. Yes, of course. I was trying to think how I could manage it. If I can manage it.” He emphasised the if very heavily.
Bella had reached the top of the rise and found herself looking over a small wooded area, down in the distance, beyond which she could see the spire of the village church which was not very far down the road from The Lamb. She estimated that it would take her maybe twenty to twenty-five minutes to walk to the village.
“Couldn’t you say that you’ve got to go and see a client?” she asked, hopefully.
“I’ll have to give it some thought. Tina’s pretty suspicious these days and she’s no fool. I’ll need to be very careful.” Bella felt disappointed but understood how much more difficult it would be now that she’d left London.
“Maybe we’d just better leave it and I’ll give you a call when I’m back in town…”
“No,” Ben said firmly, interrupting her. “I’d really like to see you again, and soon. Let me see what I can do.”
“Ok. If you’re sure.”
“I’m certain. I’ll give you a call when I’ve got something fixed, how’s that?” She had started walking towards the distant trees, intent on getting most of the way there before turning back.
“Fine, I’ll wait to hear from you.”
“Great!” he sounded relieved. “I’ll be in touch.” And that was it, the line went dead.
Ben ended the call, looking thoughtful. He hadn’t told Bella the full story. There was no way that he could. Donna had died in her office, alright, but only after a heated argument between the two of them. Ben still couldn’t believe it. Donna was a virago feared by many of her male colleagues. By a sheer stroke of misfortune she had uncovered the fact Ben had been systematically milking clients’ funds for more than twelve months. She had confronted Ben with the news she was on her way to inform the other partners. Faced with spiralling debt because of Tina’s lavish ways, Ben had known for months that he was going to have to do somethin
g about it and had explored all the possibilities. Getting rid of Tina, one way or another, held great appeal but he knew he neither had the balls to do it nor the ability to live with himself afterwards. Appropriating the funds seemed the most logical idea but he had known that he would need an accomplice to help cover his tracks. Enter Barbara Richmond, the firm’s ‘thirty-something’ Financial Controller, who had joined them eighteen months previously and had very soon made it obvious that she had eyes for Ben. Ambitious and greedy, Ms Richmond was very good at her job, displaying a confidence in her abilities that instilled faith in others. The partners were more than happy to just let her get on with it, especially as the firm appeared to be doing so well.
Very particular about her appearance, Ms Richmond had the habit of dressing in formal, dark, business suits, like her male counterparts, a trait that had been responsible for whispered innuendo among the junior staff. She was neither slim nor overweight for her height and possessed a firm, shapely body well-disguised by the cut of her expensive clothes. And she wasn’t a tall woman, by any means. Even with her high heels, which she always wore, she was no more than five foot eight inches in height. Dyed-blonde hair worn short, brushed back, and parted, like a man’s, gave her a rather severe look that was more than compensated for by the combination of her soft brown eyes and seductive rosebud-pink lips. To most of the staff she was an enigma, seemingly arrogant and aloof, even aggressive sometimes but respected, nevertheless. Initially, even Ben, who considered himself something of an expert, wasn’t sure about her sexuality though he found himself strangely attracted to her. His type of woman was quintessentially feminine, the more obviously so the better, and he liked them tall but then he had never met anyone like Barbara Richmond. At first, in their daily encounters, she was the consummate professional and gave no indication of her feelings. But gradually that began to change and she would do things to stir Ben’s interest. Sometimes in a subtle way, sometimes not so subtle until Ben took action to see if she would respond. On the pretext of discussing the forthcoming budget presentation, he informed her that he’d arranged an after-hours partners’ meeting, for the following day, and asked that she be present. A few minutes before the appointed time, Barbara Richmond arrived, to find him alone in his office. At first, of course, she had been surprised.
The Knapthorne Conspiracy Page 12
