by Holly Bell
‘What did he want?’ asked Ruth, returning and indignantly plumping herself down in Kieran's vacated chair.
‘To plead his case,’ replied Amanda gently.
‘What case?’
‘The case for being able to be intelligent, a lover of history, an online gamer of Medieval Melée, and, just a little bit, entirely unintentionally, rather good at a sporting activity.’
But Ruth had sprung to attention as if by an electric shock. ‘He plays MM?’
‘Indeed.’
‘He likes history? What history?’ interrogated Ruth.
‘Thirteenth century French and the Crusades.’
‘Hm,’ said Ruth, pulled up short in her tracks. Amanda maintained a tactful silence while her friend digested these startling revelations.
Clap! Clap! Majolica’s hands commanded attention. ‘Let us all assemble, ladies, gentlemen, leaders and followers!’
Jonathan returned to the floor, now carrying a camera, intending to get some shots of this historic first class for the library Community Board. Mrs Pagely had advised him to wait until everyone had warmed up and got their confidence before capturing them in the act. He had intended to be discreet, but had been spotted by the eagle eye of his teacher.
‘Oh. Oh dear, no,’ bemoaned Majolica, opening her hands either side of her face. ‘Gentleman-here-on-the-left … your name? Jonathan? Yes, Jonathan, if you wouldn’t mind, returning your camera to your bag. You see, my husband likes to be the one to take photographs. Thank you.’
Vic appeared momentarily bewildered but, at a stern glance from his wife, looked helplessly at Jonathan, then walked up to the young man. ‘Here, son, I’ll look after that for you,’ he offered kindly. ‘Perhaps once she gets used to you, she won’t mind if you do the business.’
‘No problem, Mr Woodberry,’ replied Jonathan, whose hands shook a little as he gave his camera into Vic’s keeping. ‘Got lots of things I can practice on.’
‘Got your St Ursula festival coming up, and when the new floor gets constructed I’ll bet the rector would love some blow by blow photos of that.’
‘Yes, the library would put them up on the Community Board too,’ said Jonathan enthusiastically. ‘I work there,’ he added with simple pride.
‘Good man. That’s the ticket,’ Vic commended him and patted his shoulder.
The class practised what they had learned in part one, and more steps were added to create a little routine. This required sufficient concentration to be a bar, for Amanda at least, to any further conversation with any of her partners, beyond the thank you’s at each parting.
Finally, the lesson was pronounced over, applause followed, and the dancers headed for their bags and street shoes. Amanda found Ryan at her elbow.
‘Have you heard about the new chef?’ he asked.
‘Erm ….?’
‘At the Snout and Trough?’
‘Oh yes, Sandra hopes for her Michelin star with this one, doesn't she?’
‘Yes, and that’s just it. He’s doing a grand sort of opening on Sunday week, and she’s asked me, in my capacity as local celebrity, to be seen dining there.’
‘And are you going to?'
‘Of course. But it would look so much more attractive in the press photos if you would join me.’
‘Attractive? If you want a trophy date,’ said Amanda, practically, 'you’d much better ask Jessica. She's a model after all, and practised at that sort of thing.’
‘Actually, she’s already going with the local pinup. At Sandra’s request and Mrs Pagely’s cajoling.’
‘Jonathan?’ Amanda asked in amazement.
‘Indeed. Sandra suggested that I ask you.’
‘How about Vanessa?’
‘She’s got a prospective date in her sights.’
‘Then what about Penny? She’s pretty.’
‘The doctor's receptionist?’ he said with a hint of distaste.
‘Don’t be such a snob,’ Amanda teased him.
‘Please, Amanda. Do it for Sandra,’ he pleaded, ‘if not for me. Come on, my treat; I still owe you that dinner.’
Amanda tried not to look or sound like Ruth.
‘Thank you, Ryan, that’s very nice of you. And of course, anything I can do to help Sandra.’
‘One o’clock then?’
‘See you there.’
Amanda groaned. She had been planning a nice quiet Sunday lunch with Tempest and Blythe Spirit on DVD, digitally remastered. Still, it might be a chance to get a feel for a possible spy.
‘Well done, dear!’ Miss Armstrong-Witworth commended Amanda as Ryan moved off, mission accomplished. ‘You move so gracefully; it’s a pleasure to watch you.’
‘I do?’ responded Amanda in surprise. ‘Thank you.’
‘Have you observed our dear Sylvia and our new preceptress?’
The two ladies were nodding graciously to one another across the length of the hall, then each turning away, the one to her sound equipment and the other to the door.
Amanda giggled. 'Are they pretending that they’ve never met?' she asked.
‘I think that was the sight of two worthy opponents saluting one another,' replied Miss Armstrong-Witworth, mischievously.
‘En Garde!’ laughed Amanda.
‘Indeed. Such an entertaining evening. Ah, I believe the inspector wishes to bid you farewell,' Miss Armstrong-Witworth pointed out, helpfully.
Trelawney was looking in Amanda's direction as he moved slowly towards the exit. She went to join him as they walked to their cars.
‘You look vastly entertained,’ she observed.
‘That was fascinating,’ Trelawney replied. ‘My first sight of a proper old-fashioned English village up close and personal.’
‘Terrifying, isn’t it?’ quipped Amanda.
‘I see what you’re up against in the gossip stakes.’
‘At last.’
‘And how intricately interwoven they all are,’ he marvelled.
‘Quite.’
‘The ladies seem to adore you,’ he remarked. ‘Every one of them gave me a glowing testimonial. Even Vanessa.’
‘I don’t know her very well. But she did seem rather taken with you,' said Amanda impishly.
‘A charming lady,’ Trelawney responded blandly.
‘Good. Someone else for you to start a gossip chain with,’ she said triumphantly.
‘Not sure I want to encourage that. I have the feeling that she wants to drag me off to her cave.’
‘Well, I’m sure it’s a very comfortable one. I think she’s done OK for herself. You could be onto a winner there,’ Amanda teased him.
‘Thank you so much for your sympathy and understanding, Miss Cadabra,’ he replied dryly.
'And what about the spy? Maybe they weren't even here.'
Trelawney was suddenly serious. ‘Oh, they were here,’ he stated. ‘Every instinct I possess tells me unequivocally … that they were present.’
His assurance impressed Amanda. She thought, as she had so often been compelled to, that there was more to the inspector than met the eye or she gave him credit for.
‘Any ideas of who it might be?’ she asked.
‘Ideas, yes,’ he replied.
‘Are you going to share them with me?’ she asked, hopefully.
‘Share? No,’ he stated affably but finally. Amanda regarded him speculatively and decided that there was no point in trying to persuade him. He glanced at her, read her expression correctly, and said, ‘Good call, Miss Cadabra.’
Amanda laughed. ‘Thinking better of attempting to persuade you, you mean?’
‘Quite.’
‘I seem to remember,’ she said, changing the subject, ‘that we shan’t have the pleasure of your company next Saturday.’
‘No, Halloween is a busy time for the station. People do get a bit carried away. But the following week, of course.’
‘Will you try to see your father in the meantime?’
‘I will. I shall try to have news
for you by the Feast of St Ursula of the Apples at any rate, and I very much look forward to your expert guidance around Sunken Madley, past and present.’
‘You remembered. Good.’
‘See you in a fortnight.'
Amanda waved him off. She now had a new date, an elevenses, and a village tour booked. She noticed Tempest on the roof of the Astra.
‘That was exhausting. I want my sofa,’ she told him.
He stared back with affront.
‘Oh OK; our sofa!’
Chapter 26
Storm Warning
During the following week, Amanda asked her grandparents to assist with her dancing practice later in the evenings as well as with her programme of magical training.
‘You’re coming on, bian,’ pronounced Grandpa, on Monday, as she gently lowered the second workbench and a chest of drawers to the floor, while continuing to keep the stirring action of the brush in the glue pot going.
‘Much better control,’ agreed Senara. ‘Now. Just the armoire.’ Amanda looked doubtfully at the enormous 18th-century French wardrobe that needed new pegs and a strip and wax.
‘Remember, love, don’t push it up; allow it to rise,’ urged Perran.
Amanda took a breath and deliberately relaxed her shoulders. She pointed her Pocket-wand at the massive piece of furniture and gently spoke the word: ‘Aereval.’ It lifted like a cloud.
‘Up,’ said Perran. ‘Good. And hold … now …. without turning around, raise the hammer off your bench behind you.’
‘But I can’t see it,’ objected Amanda.
‘Feel for it. Feel for the iron.’
‘OK …. Yes! I can feel — ‘ Thump! The wardrobe hit the floor. ‘Oh dear. I was so pleased with locating the hammer I lost my concentration.’
‘That’s all right, bian. I gave you a new thing to do as well as a heavy thing to lift. But you have to be prepared to do unexpected combinations of things without losing your focus. Tell you what: tomorrow we’ll practice locating materials separately, all right?’
‘Yes, please, Grandpa,’ answered Amanda with relief.
‘You’re coming along nicely, isn’t she, love?’
‘You are indeed, my dear,’ agreed Granny.
Amanda arrived at the Reiser’s house as her phone alerted her to a text.
Hi, really sorry but got a panic client at 10.45. Sis says rest of week's jam-packed. Hope to see you Saturday, Leo.
She was slightly relieved, still a little tired from the previous week and the class. The cancellation meant that she could just work steadily through the morning.
On Tuesday, Amanda went, as she often did, for dinner with Aunt Amelia in Muswell Hill, a few miles to the south of Sunken Madley. Amelia Reading was not an actual aunt but a close family friend who had helped to bring up Amanda to be the fine covert witch she was today.
A once famous, but now mostly retired, glassblower, Amelia had been nominally training her de facto niece to ‘see possibilities’ since she was nine years old. Amanda loved the colours of the globes that Amelia had created, but never saw anything in them but goldfish (whom she had seen so often she had named) or a representation of Paris in the snow. Regardless of this, and more importantly, Amelia had remained Amanda’s chief confidante and occasional supplier of titbits of information about her grandparents’ pasts that were hard to come by from the horses’ mouths.
Amanda had plenty to tell her aunt about the first dance class and her impressions of the teachers. Her impersonation of the overpoweringly gracious Majolica Woodberry had Amelia chuckling heartily. Amanda reported that the Inspector, as she invariably referred to him, was turning up in the guise of a student to discover the identity of the person in the village who was spying on her.
‘And does he have any notion yet of whom it might be?’ enquired Amelia.
‘Yes, but he’s not telling. All he gave away was that he was sure it was someone who’d been present at the first class. But of course it could have been someone who was there unseen.’
‘Hm,’ said Amelia, getting up from the dining table and sailing into the drawing room, her long elegant green gown swaying about her as she walked. Amanda followed her to the chairs at a round table where Tempest had chosen to sleep, next to an orb filled with silver stars and a rainbow. Amelia sat down, pushed back her dark chestnut wavy bob, took the globe in her hands and gazed meditatively. Amanda wasn’t sure if she actually saw things or it just helped her to focus, but, presently, her aunt spoke.
‘I don’t like the look of these clouds .… Of course, they might disperse …’ She glanced up at Amanda, ‘How is your training coming on?’
‘Pretty well, I think. Why?’
‘Can you support a weight and perform a minor spell at the same time, with control and accuracy?’
‘Yes, Aunt Amelia.’
‘Good. Keep training,’ said her aunt, sitting back from the globe
‘I will.’ Amanda got up. ‘I must get home, I’ve got work tomorrow, and I keep having to use manual methods instead of magic with Mr Branscombe around.’
‘You are careful, aren’t you?’
‘Of course,’ said Amanda putting on her coat. ‘It’s mainly just setting the cabinet scrapers on the go.’
Amelia rose, put her niece’s scarf around her neck and looked into her eyes.
‘And you never use magic on humans, do you, sweetie?’
‘Of course not.’ Amanda was surprised by the question. ‘I have no reason to.’
‘It is very important, Ammy.’ Amelia looked at her seriously. ‘You must never … cast a spell on a human … again …. Do you understand?’
Amanda had never seen her aunt look so grave.
‘Yes, … I mean, I know about the ripples in the ether that it causes. I know how dangerous that would be.’
Amelia lowered her voice. ‘Right now they suspect that there is magical power in your village.’
‘They?’
‘The Flamgoynes. The spells you have used so far, on people, have shown up on their radar as vague clouds with Sunken Madley as some kind of epicentre. But they will not use their resources unless they are sure. They must not become sure,’ said Amelia with emphasis.
‘OK,’ Amanda responded a little bewildered. ‘What is it that you saw in the globe, Aunt?’
‘All I can tell you is this: one more spell of that kind and the balance will surely tip,’ she warned.
Amanda looked solemn and nodded. ‘I understand.’
Amelia arranged her niece’s scarf more becomingly. ‘There now,’ she said giving it a final pat. ‘Orange always did suit you. No need to worry now. You just need to be a little circumspect. Let your inspector —’
‘He’s not my inspector.’
‘The inspector then. Let him do his job, and all will very likely be well.’
Amelia opened the door. Amanda kissed her cheek.
‘Take care,’ said Amelia. And somehow Amanda had the distinct feeling that she meant it as no ordinary farewell.
Amanda returned on Saturday to celebrate Halloween, Samhain, with her aunt, They were to dine as usual, but first, as Amelia said, ‘We shall do our remote work.’ Amanda nodded. ‘Which we keep absolutely secret.’
‘Yes, Aunt.’ Amelia lit the candle, arranged the crystals, Tempest came to the table to join them, and they began. It was, as always, over far sooner than it seemed. Then Amelia took the nut-stuffed pumpkin, spiced bread and baked apples out of the oven and they feasted.
Amelia did not mention again what it was she had seen in the glass globe. Amanda was relieved, but the memory of her aunt’s warning stayed with her. It had been very clear: if she did not want the Flamgoynes to close in on her village, she must never again cast a spell on a human. Surely that was a rule that it would be easy enough to keep?
Chapter 27
Earworms
On Saturday, Amanda, arriving early at the church hall, had been planning to chat to Vic, as he seemed the friendlier of the two
Woodberrys, but the front door was locked. She saw him carrying in the various pieces of sound equipment from his van through the side door.
‘Hello Vic,’ she called. ‘Can I help?’
‘’Allo Amanda. Yes, you can open up the front for me.’ He tossed her the key. She applied it and returned to his side, handing it back to him. ‘Can I carry anything?’
‘No, I’m used to it, but thanks for asking. This is my part, you see. I carry in the equipment and put it out, and Majolica does the fine-tuning and sets up her playlist for the afternoon.’
‘I see.’ She heard the crunch of tyres on the gravel of the car park, and soon Majolica entered.
Amanda issued a greeting then retired to a chair nearer the front door to await the arrival of the rest of the students. Within a few minutes, the class began arriving, and Amanda was besieged by dancers asking where Trelawney was. Vanessa, in particular, seemed disappointed. Leo was apologetic about Monday. The salon was taking off, and he couldn’t be spared.
‘Good,’ said Amanda. ‘I’m glad business is flourishing.’
‘Just a rain check though,’ Leo insisted. ‘As soon as I get a breather, I still want to keep our tea-break appointment.’
‘Of course,’ she agreed.
Ruth made no effort to make a get-away when Kieran diffidently approached her. Nor did she issue any complaint about him to Amanda, who diplomatically refrained from questioning Ruth on the subject, when Kieran withdrew to beneath the wing of his cricketing hero, who was on the opposite side of the hall. Good, thought Amanda, if Ruth is Kieran’s friend and Kieran is Ryan’s friend, there might be a chain of communication there. But also, the teens seem well-suited and could probably both do with a friend.
Once again, Majolica put her students through their paces with her characteristic combination of sharpness and sweetness. However occasionally off-putting her presentation, the class was grasping the basics of the waltz and building their confidence.
At the conclusion of the lesson Majolica made an announcement.
‘As you are all aware, next Saturday falls on 11th of November, Remembrance Day, when we are mindful of all who have perished as a result of war. In honour of those who endured the conflict during which this hall was built and in which peace would have been celebrated, after the class, there will be an extra one-hour social. If anyone has any requests of songs or music that were popular in the 1914-to-1918 period, please, do let me know and I shall do my best to play them for us all to dance to. That is all. See you next Saturday!’
