by Holly Bell
‘Are those Michaelmas daisies?’ Trelawney asked.
‘Why yes, I believe so. How nice to meet a man who knows his flowers,’ she said, pleasantly surprised.
‘Well, not many, only the ones my mother insisted on drumming into my head. Especially the ones she likes,’ he added with a chuckle.
‘Your mother rises in my esteem every moment,’ stated Amanda as they sat down in the mushroom-coloured armchairs, set at 45-degree angles to the window and each other.
Now that the moment to get down to the matter in hand had come, they took sips from their too-hot beverages to cover the brief awkward silence. Amanda set down her cup and invited him to begin,
‘Why don’t you tell me what’s happened? The thing that prompted you to call me.’
Trelawney nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking about how to start.’
Amanda waited patiently.
‘Mike Hogarth has a quote he’s rather fond of repeating. We seem to keep coming back to Hamlet … “There are more things in heaven and earth —”’
‘“— than are dreamt of in your philosophy”,’ Amanda finished gently.
‘Is that a view to which you at all subscribe, Miss Cadabra?’
She smiled a little, and said simply, ‘Yes.’
He seemed to exhale. ‘Well, that certainly makes things easier. What if those “more things” included abilities that were out of the ordinary?’
‘Those would seem reasonable to include,’ Amanda said amiably.
‘Do you remember the last time we spoke like this…’
‘In the Big Tease?’
‘Yes. I told you about a dream I’d had. I was back in the old family mansion?’
‘Flamgoyne,’ she recalled.
‘That’s right. I was with my father, and there were other men and an old woman, and I heard them; they kept asking my father, “Can he …?”’
‘I remember,’ said Amanda, encouragingly.
‘Well, I’ve had an inkling of what they may have been asking him about.’
Trelawney paused. Amanda sensed how difficult this was for him.
‘One of those ‘more things?”’ she suggested tentatively.
He nodded.
‘Tell me,’ she invited him gently. ‘I promise I won’t laugh or disregard what you say.’
Trelawney recounted the strange flashback he had had to when he was a toddler seeing his father’s whereabouts.
‘Sort of in the reflection of the tea, or like it was a background for a movie projection. I saw my father, not in the car, but at Flamgoyne, with his mother and the other men in the family.’
‘I see,’ she responded, understanding his unease.
‘I asked Mike about it. And he told me that there’s a … a trait that is said to run in the Flamgoyne family: intuition, insight, divination. He said not all have it nor is everyone with the ability a Flamgoyne, but it sounds like I did have it.’
‘And that’s what the family kept asking your father about then,’ Amanda inferred. ‘If you had inherited the gift?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you think that your father knew that you did?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t remember, but if he did I am certain that he told the Flamgoynes I didn’t.’
‘Well, that’s good. He protected you,’ commented Amanda on a positive note.
‘Yes, of course, I couldn’t imagine my father doing otherwise, but that’s not what bothers me. And I said this to Mike. How come I stopped being able to do it? And why don’t I remember stopping being able to do it? Is that connected to my loss of memory of most of my early years?’
‘Good questions,’ responded Amanda noncommittally.
‘Well, … you know what your Uncle Mike said?’
‘No.’
‘”Why don’t you ask Miss Cadabra?”’
Amanda maintained a wary silence. Why was Uncle Mike dropping her in it? Finally, she asked cautiously, ‘Why do you think that he suggested that?’
‘Because, I think … I asked him, if intuition, divination was the Flamgoyne … gift, as you so nicely put it, what was the gift of the Cardiubarns? — their enemies, neighbours, occasional allies, however you want to term it.’
‘And he said …?’ asked Amanda curiously.
‘He said he wasn’t sure if your grandmother would ever have told you. May I ask if Mrs Cadabra ever did.’
‘No,’ Amanda answered slowly. ‘And it’s strange that you should ask that, because about two weeks ago maybe, one night, just before I was going to sleep … I wondered about that, what was the gift of those houses …. No, no one ever told me. Did Uncle Mike know what the Cardiubarn gift was? Did he tell you?’
‘Yes. He said the Cardiubarns were spell-weavers. Oh, it all sounds so outlandish!’ exclaimed Trelawney, getting up. Thrusting his hands into his trouser pockets, he walked around behind the chairs. ‘And I can’t believe I’m using words like “divination” and “spells”! I feel like I’ve entered a realm of insanity.’
‘No, Inspector, just a realm new to “your philosophy”,’ Amanda said kindly.
His face softened. ‘You’re right of course. I must say you’re taking all of this very acceptingly. Thank you.’
‘It’s different for me. I’ve grown up hearing about these things to some extent, but you have no memory of the times when your family may have spoken about them.’
Trelawney nodded. His customary equanimity returned. He resumed his seat and reached for his tea. After a few moments he resumed.
‘So then, I gather that what Mike meant when he said to ask you was that, since your family were spell-weavers, you might know whether ….’ He shook his head. ‘I do find it hard to actually say the words ….’
Amanda came to his rescue. ‘Whether I might know if it is possible that a spell was cast on you to remove your power of divination and to cause you to forget?’
‘Precisely.’
Amanda chose her words carefully. ‘Inspector, as a friend, I want to help you. I hope you believe me.’ He nodded. ‘However, if I were, hypothetically, to offer an opinion that you might consider to be informed on the question of spells, would that not, in some way, open the possibility of incrimination of my grandparents, regarding the deaths of the Cardiubarn family, when the minibus went over that cliff all those years ago?’
It was Trelawney’s turn to proceed with caution.
‘While I see your point, Miss Cadabra, and I do admit that, since that conversation with former Chief Inspector Hogarth, such an idea has occurred to me, the fact is that both your grandparents were nowhere near the scene of the crime on the day that it took place.’
‘True,’ replied Amanda.
‘Of course, I know nothing of such matters, but I believe it is reasonable to assume that even in the use of … magic … one would need to be in some sort of vicinity of the victim to execute the, er … spell involved.’
‘I would concur with that,’ said Amanda.
‘Then, perhaps you would be so good as to put your reservations to one side, and answer me as a friend, Miss Cadabra?’
‘Then my answer would be, hypothetically, and based on stories my grandmother told me, yes, I believe that there would likely be such a spell that could inhibit your powers of divination and remove your memory of that rite, shall we say. Hypothetically.’
‘And a person who could perform such … rites would be … a spell-weaver?’
‘That would seem logical.’
‘And the Cardiubarns were spell-weavers. So why …?’
‘Yes, I see,’ said Amanda, relaxing after the tension of the uneasy exchange that had preceded and catching the thread of the line of enquiry, ‘why would a Cardiubarn help a Flamgoyne?’
‘Exactly.’
Chapter 19
Into the Past
‘Let’s see … who would help a Flamgoyne? …. A renegade Cardiubarn?’ Amanda suggested.
‘Possibly,’ Trelawney agreed.
‘But
who? And why?’ asked Amanda.
‘And where?’
‘And exactly when?’
‘I can’t pinpoint it but I’d say, around when I was ten,’ replied Trelawney.
‘Your parents were still together then?’
‘Just about, I think.’
‘So then where would you most likely have been? Cornwall?’ enquired Amanda.
‘Cornwall, yes. So … why?’
‘As far as I can tell,’ said Amanda wryly, ‘no Cardiubarn ever did anything without some sort of angle or agenda, and I’m looking for it.’
‘Depriving one of the enemy family of their clan power would surely have been in the interests of the Cardiubarns.’
‘That makes sense. But why make such a secret of it?’ asked Amanda.
‘Because it was a secret that I had it in the first place?’ suggested Trelawney.
‘All right. But who among the Cardiubarns would your father have trusted?’
‘I suppose,’ he answered reluctantly, ‘there’s only one person who really knows the answer to that.’
‘Can you ask your father?’
‘The question is, not whether I could ask him, but, whether he would tell me.’
‘Would you wish to try?’ Amanda asked diplomatically
‘I think I must. It’s all linked, the two families, the deaths of the Cardiubarns in the minibus. If it gets us closer to the truth of that day on the coast road, then I must make the attempt,’ said Trelawney resolutely.
They stopped and sipped their drinks, looking out over the field towards the trees that bordered it in a protective sweep of golds, russets and greens.
Amanda looked at Trelawney with new respect. ‘Well done,’ she said. ‘I can imagine how difficult it must be for you to come to terms with that memory, and to contemplate there may be a dimension to our human existence that is beyond what is considered to be normal.’
‘Thank you. But perhaps it is normal, and physics will one day be able to put it in terms that make it perfectly ordinary and acceptable. Perhaps there are thousands of people, especially children, who can do things that ... that are outside the usual range of the physical, the mechanics of the use of the five senses. ‘
‘Perhaps you’re just ahead of the game,’ smiled Amanda.
‘What about you?’ asked Trelawney.
She knew what he was asking, and yet it was not as a detective searching for possible clues of magical assassination, but as a friend, seeking a fellow — not sufferer exactly, quite the opposite, — child, seeking the other child in the class who … was gifted.
‘My parents,’ said Amanda, ‘took one look at me, apparently, and gave up. I think my great-grandmother Cardiubarn kept hoping I’d show a sign of some sort of magical endowment, but in the end even she threw up her hands and passed me onto my grandparents.’
‘Who clearly weren’t in the least disappointed in you,’ observed Trelawney. ‘Very much the opposite. That day, when I first met the three of you, I detected nothing but love and pride in you.’
Strangely that brought a lump to Amanda’s throat.
‘Thank you,’ she said with difficulty. ‘That means a great deal, Inspector.’
‘Not at all. But still, I gather that your grandparents had stories to tell about esoteric matters, shall we say?’
‘Not very much,’ Amana said truthfully. Her days had been filled with learning the theory of magic. She was never able to get very much out of Perran and Senara about either their own or their families’ histories.
‘But enough for you to accept the possibility of the existence of things magical?’ Trelawney asked.
‘Oh yes,’ agreed Amanda. She took another sip of her drink and decided that the moment could not be put off any longer. ‘So what is it that you want me to remember?’
‘The missing portraits,’ he replied, coming to the point. ‘You said your great-grandmother showed you two lots of family portraits.’
‘Hmm. But not the earliest ones.’
‘She said they might scare you,’ he reminded her.
‘That’s right,’ Amanda concurred, ‘and then she showed me a few of the acceptable ones. Then she skipped some in the middle. She didn’t want to tire me, she said, and then showed me the ones that almost brought us up to date.’
‘Yes.’
‘Which ones do you want?’ she asked Trelawney.
‘Both, if you can get them.’
‘This is to do with your theory that you’ve developed?’ Amanda queried.
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to share it with me?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Yes, of course,’ he said with a smile, ‘but I’d rather not influence your experience of memory with it.’
‘OK. So if I can remember then you’ll tell me?’
‘Of course,’ Trelawney assured her.
‘We have a deal then,’ she confirmed with a gleam.
‘We have a deal, Miss Cadabra.’ He held out his hand.
They shook on it. Amanda put down her cup resolutely. She sat back in her armchair and gazed out on the meadow.
‘You remember being the height of a child,’ he said, softly, ’but you’re up in the air because your great-grandmother is carrying you.’
‘Hmm,’ she murmured.
‘She is old, dressed in black, a long black dress …’
‘… that rustles when she moves. It’s smooth …’
‘You hear her shoes when she walks,’ he continued.
‘ … on the stone floor … no, the wooden floor.’
‘She stops, and on the wall in front of you …’
Amanda was back in Cardiubarn Hall, in the arms of her great-grandmother. She was two years old, almost three. She heard her great-grandmother’s voice close to her little ear.
‘Now Amanda, you must meet your family. Ours is an old family, an ancient family, a venerable and powerful family, a great clan. Their blood runs in your veins – I hope – at least, somewhere or other,’ she added drily. ‘Now, you must not be afraid of how they look. Some are perhaps a little unexpected in appearance. Actually the portrait artists toned down the reality a good deal, if all I have been told is true!’
Amanda widened her eyes, but knew better than to vocalize her surprise at the image in front of her.
‘This,’ declared the old woman, ‘is Blunderbore Cardiubarn, founder of our house.’ His massive head seemed about to burst the confines of the picture frame, his snarl so pronounced it was almost audible.
‘There is no existing portrait of his son or grandson, but here is Morgawr Cardiubarn, four generations on. You see the resemblance.’ Amanda nodded mutely. ‘Say no more …. Here is his daughter, Ysbore and hers, Endelion. At about this time, the clan became, shall we say, a little over-involved with keeping wealth and power of various kinds within the family. Marriages were kept between Cardiubarns, with some rather unfortunate results. Cormonran was one of them.’
In her two and a half years, Amanda had not seen a great many faces, but a sufficient number to register that there was something outside her experience in the portrait before her. She had grasped the concept of variety in features among her fellow humans, some of which could be extreme. Her grandparents’ local baker was a man of advanced years with only two teeth, but, as part of a cheery grin, this held no terrors for her. The fishmonger had an exceptionally large nose but set between two such merry blue eyes that she soon stopped noticing it.
However, the faces that now confronted her, as her great-grandmother reeled off the names, were not just distorted but so cold and vacant of eye, so grimacing, that Amanda could hardly bear to look.
‘Finally,’ said the old woman, ‘they had the good sense to realise that to produce useful offspring they needed new blood. That was the union with a Pologyne.’ She pronounced the name with distaste. ‘A rival clan who claimed dominance over the elements, but at least ensured the survival of our blood line. This is the first result of successful breeding:
Doombar Cardiubarn-Polgoyne, the last to bear the Polgoyne name. As you see, the union was a wise decision.’
Amanda gazed upon the normal-looking female face with the light of intelligence in her eyes if not goodwill to all men.
‘And then,’ continued her great-grandmother, ‘we come to the beginning of the next era. But we shall save that indulgence for another day. Your grandmother is at the gate. You may go to her now.’ With that she placed Amanda back on her little legs. ‘You may thank me first.’
Amanda curtseyed. All at once, she saw her feet treading down stone steps. The hand holding her own was her great-grandmother’s. Down, down, they went … to a door …. Then she was seeing Cardiubarn Hall over Granny’s shoulder as she was being carried out to the car. There was something she had to tell Granny … if only she could remember. The great spiked edifice swam before her eyes into a mist that clouded her vision, then resolved into the white sky outside the Centre.
She gasped as though breathless from running, then put a hand over her mouth, looked down at the grass of the field, at the table in front of her and Trelawney.
‘Hm,’ she managed.
‘You’re back,’ said the inspector calmly
‘Yes.’
‘Are you alright?’ he asked solicitously.
‘I think so.’ Amanda put her drink to her lips, but it was cold.
‘Wait,’ he said, rising. ‘I’ll get you another.’
‘No, please,’ she said putting out a hand, ‘let me tell you.’
‘Very well, but at least have some water,’ Trelawney urged her. He filled a cup from the cooler in the corner and brought it to her. She drained it. Amanda related to him, as coherently and completely as she could, what she had seen.
‘So there was a union between the two clans?’ Trelawney checked.
‘For practical reasons,’ she added.
‘Good, good,’ he said, as though to himself.
‘This is supporting your theory?’
‘Yes but ….,’ he hesitated.
‘You need more?’ asked Amanda. ‘You need the other portraits? The missing middle section?’
