Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths

by Holly Bell

  ‘Thank you for asking me, Inspector. May I think about it?’

  ***

  After saying their goodbyes, Trelawney let Amanda go on ahead to the car. He turned back to his father at the door.

  ‘Did Mike tell you what this new post will do to me professionally?’

  Kyt put a hand on Thomas’s shoulder.

  ‘Yes, son. And it may finish your career, but I think it will be the making of you.’

  Chapter 56

  The Ball

  The following morning, while Trelawney waited in the car, Amanda called in to Mr Keast. She confirmed the Cardiubarn Hall plans, gave him the photos on her phone for the valuers and promised to return soon.

  The inspector was careful not to press her on the matter of the job offer, and they passed the journey back to London discussing the Hall, the comically timed flight of Messrs Mortlake and Dowr, taste in car trip radio stations, and the ball, now just three days away.

  In the afternoon, Thomas returned to Cornwall to run along his favourite stretch of beach and think.

  At about the same time, Amanda was in lengthy colloquy with Perran.

  ‘I know what Granny would say, Grandpa. Of course, she’d say “yes, do it”. She’s been enjoying herself playing cat-and-mouse with the inspector since the moment he first rang our doorbell!’

  ‘Well, you’re right there, bian. But it does seem to have more pros than cons, this job.’

  ‘But it’s a big con. Up until now, I’ve had complete autonomy.’

  ‘And in magical matters, you’d still call the shots, as they say. Didn’t the inspector say so?’

  Amanda sighed. ‘I suppose so … but what about my work, the furniture restoration?’

  ‘I think you’ll find the two dovetail just fine.’

  ‘Hm.’

  ‘Ammee, don’t turn it down because you want to do it. Maybe your wanting to do it is the right instinct.’

  Granny appeared. Amanda thought she might as well ask her opinion.

  ‘Why not?’ was Senara's response.

  ‘Well … up till now I’ve had autonomy.’

  ‘Ha, you’ll always have that. You’re a Cardiubarn. It comes with the territory.’

  ‘I’m also a Cadabra,’ Amanda pointed out.

  ‘Yes, and if you want to send furniture flying around the room, no Flamgoyne is going to be able to stop you.’

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t call him that. He’s a Trelawney.’

  ‘Well … I don’t know anything about th—hold on— is that “Trelawney” with an E.Y?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘Trelawneys … hm … I’d completely forgotten. Can’t they call up m—?’

  ‘Well, I’m sure we don’t need to go into all that, my love,’ interrupted Perran. ‘The point is that whatever is surfacing in the village is not going to go away, and the Oracle did say our Ammee has to solve the riddle or something of Sunken Madley. She needs help, and she can’t deal with police matters.’ He turned to Amanda. ‘There’s no denying that, in spite of everything, you and the inspector are friends, bian, and you work a treat together.’

  ‘And above all,’ added Senara, ‘we think you’ll have fun.’

  ‘Really, Granny, life isn’t all about having fun,’ her granddaughter replied severely.

  ‘Yes it is. That’s exactly what it’s about. I wish I’d realised that when I was on your plane of existence, my dear. And now I know it’s true, I don’t waste a minute, I promise you. And neither should you.’

  ‘What your Granny is saying, bian, is that we think this is going to be your next big adventure, your next bi—’

  Ding, dong!

  ‘I’ll see you later, love. That’s your fairy godmother, if I’m not mistaken.’ With a wink and smile, he was gone, and Amanda went to the door.

  ‘Claire!’

  ‘Hello, darling.’ They hugged enthusiastically.

  ‘Come in.’

  ‘Tell me how your Cornwall trip went,’ invited Claire as they sat down. ‘Did you have all of the male members of impoverished aristocracy making bids for the hand of the new Cardiubarn heiress?’

  Amanda laughed. ‘Hardly. It’s a mouldering ruin. Give it another fifty years, and it’ll do everyone a favour and fall down of its own accord, I shouldn’t wonder. Musty dustiness and paperwork. But I shall have to go back soon for more. What are you hiding behind your back?’

  Claire brought out a large white box tied with string.

  ‘Da-daaah. For you. Open it.’

  ‘Thank you! It’s very kind of you.’ Amanda undid the bow and began easing off the lid. ‘I do hope it’s not something extrava— … Oh! It’s like Belle’s dress from Beauty and the Beast. The one Emma Watson wears. Oh, Claire, it’s lovely but —’

  ‘No buts. You must have a dress.’

  ‘I have plenty of dresses,’ protested Amanda laughingly.

  ‘No, you don’t. Not one for the Spring Equinox Ball. It’s not orange, note.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Orange is for autumn. This is yellow for spring,’ stated Claire, who knew about these things.

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Perfectly. I Googled and scrolled and scrolled and clicked, and suddenly I had it! Someone had the costume department run one up for a publicity party. I had to have it shortened, or it would have got under your partner's feet. It was rather a shame to lose that handsome border but needs must, and it made it simpler, which I knew would please you.’

  ‘It’s so generous but … I don’t want to turn up looking like a character from a fairy tale, Claire.’

  ‘My darling, you are a fairy tale. All alone with just your cat in an old cottage at the edge of a village. And you shall go the ball and have your happy ending,’ Claire insisted with a twinkle.

  ‘But I am happy,’ protested Amanda.

  ‘Mouldering away in lonely spinsterhood,’ her friend continued with mock pathos.

  ‘I’m not lonely.’

  ‘Stop spoiling my rampage. I’m on a roll here!’

  Amanda gave in and chuckled.

  ‘Very well. It is just the loveliest dress. Your taste is always excellent. If you say it will work, I believe you.’

  ‘Now that’s what I like to hear!’

  ***

  Claire’s present had somehow made Amanda think of Pamela, who had arrived back at The Grange for a long weekend, and to attend the Spring Equinox event.

  ‘I wish I could do something for Pamela,’ Amanda mentioned to Tempest, who responded with a gentle snore. A few minutes later, he replied in the same vein to her moment of enlightenment.

  ‘I’ve got it.’ Amanda made a call. Two days later, she introduced Pamela to her most glamorous friend.

  ***

  At Tempest’s behest, they had arrived at the ball at the beginning of the evening. He wanted to get in a good hour or so parading around the gardens under Natasha’s window. This was in order that the unrelenting object of his desire might witness the extreme degree to which he was ignoring her.

  Natasha, from her seat on the sill, warmed by the radiator beneath, enjoyed his performance immensely. She observed him with smug satisfaction, occasionally passing a cleansing paw over one ear with coquettish nonchalance. Unlike the humans of the village, this was how she liked her men: helplessly obsessed and comically desperate.

  The evening began with Neeta Patel giving a fine performance, especially for an amateur, that put the piano through its paces. By the light only of the great chandelier, she began with an adaptation of Spring by Vivaldi and ended with An English Country Garden, getting everyone to sing along for the final chorus.

  After the rapturous applause had died down, the next turn was introduced. This was an unexpectedly nimble Humpy and the athletic Hillers surprising the assembled company with a brief exhibition dance of The Black Bottom, including a somewhat risqué move. They wowed the crowd and put everyone in a d
ancing mood. Cynthia then bade DJ Bill MacNair, manager of the Asthma Centre, to ‘take it away’, and the party began in earnest.

  Joan, in a long cream dress with daisies around a rather daring neckline, suddenly clapped her hands.

  ‘Hello, Inspector! Oo, black tie suits you no end. I hope you’ll ask me for a dance later.’

  ‘Good evening, Joan. You are looking very glamorous. I hope you’ll say yes when I do.’

  ‘Oh, you know the right thing to say to please a lady, Inspector. Looking for your Amanda?’

  ‘She’s not m— ’

  ‘Come along then, she’s right over here.’ Joan led Thomas along the edge of the tables lining the room, amidst music and the chatter of happy, excited voices.

  ‘Cooee!’ Joan called as they approached Amanda. ‘Dear, here’s your Inspector. Oo it’s a jive! Where’s my Jim? ‘Scuse me!’

  ‘He’s not —' Amanda replied to the empty air.

  ‘Your inspector,’ he supplied with a smile, ‘is here.’ She laughed. ‘And,’ he continued, ‘I’m hoping you’ll take the floor with me and remind me of the steps I’ve forgotten, with all of the classes I’ve missed.’

  ‘With pleasure.’

  ‘By the way, you look enchanting, Miss Cadabra. Belle’s dress, yes?’

  ‘You’ve seen that film?’ Amanda asked in astonishment.

  ‘I do have an array of nieces and nephews, you know. Actually, they’re my cousins’ offspring, but the results, are the same, believe me. Many’s the Sunday I’ve been tied to the sofa by Poppy and William, and schooled in the delights of Disney. You can ask me anything.’

  ‘Aha, that explains it! Yes, I shall quiz you at some stage,’ she promised teasingly. ‘I’m a fan too, you know.’

  After a couple of dances, as Trelawney led Amanda back to her seat, he caught sight of an elegantly dressed young lady, shyly entering the ballroom. He did not recognise her at first.

  ‘Is that … Pamela?’ he asked.

  Amanda responded with a mischievous smile,

  ‘It is indeed.’

  It had taken a while for Pamela to gather her courage, even with her grandparents to support her. However, now, although blushing, she held her head high. She was arrayed in a mint green strapless dress. Its bodice accentuated her tiny waist then flared out and down to her ankles at the back and to the knee in front. From the elegant teased knot of her pale auburn hair, tendrils spiralled beside her face, which was subtly enhanced with skilfully applied makeup.

  ‘A remarkable transformation,’ he observed.

  ‘I’m glad you think so, Inspector.’

  ‘I gather from your delighted expression that this is your work.’

  ‘Oh no, I wish I could claim as much. I only played a very small part. Pamela looks gorgeous. I think it will take her a little time to get used to all the admiration and attention, though.’

  ‘My dance, I think!’ declared Dennis, coming up. ‘Amanda, you’re looking lovely as usual. Mind if I steal your partner, Inspector?’

  ‘Good evening, Dennis,’ replied Trelawney affably.

  ‘Hello Dennis, thank you, I’d love to,’ Amanda accepted.

  ‘Come on, let’s show them how the foxtrot is done, shall we?’

  It was during the next dance, a waltz, that Pamela started to get her confidence. She was to be seen being squired around the floor by Trelawney. The girl was serious at first, concentrating on her feet but soon smiling and even laughing.

  Suddenly Claire was at Amanda’s side looking at Pamela with narrowed eyes.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Amanda asked anxiously.

  ‘Nothing … nothing at all … I'm just wondering.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I recognise that dress. It’s been adapted, but I’d swear blind it’s one I’ve seen our Jess in.’

  ‘Jessica James?’

  ‘Yes. On the catwalk, in photos in the glossies.’

  ‘Very possibly. She did Pamela’s makeover.’

  ‘Hmmm… you don’t say …. That’s what I thought. Hm … yes … I think I may be having a brainwave ...’

  ‘Now then young Claire, Amanda,’

  ‘Hello Dr Patel,’ they responded with pleasure.

  ‘Claire, how would you like to show an old man around the dancefloor?’ he asked ruefully.

  ‘Well, I don’t see any old man,’ responded Claire gallantly, ‘but I’d be delighted to dance with you!’

  ‘Excuse us, Amanda.’

  ‘Of course.’

  She stood watching her friends affectionately. This was always Amanda’s favourite moment of village balls, when the floor was filled with the people she loved. As well as Claire and Dr Patel, the inspector and Pamela, there was Joan dancing with Mr Sharma, Mrs Sharma elegantly helping Alex with his steps, Miss de Havilland and Joe the milkman, Sandy and Neeta, Sylvia and Dennis, Pavel and Gwendolen, Ruth’s mother, Esta Reiser and Erik, Amanda’s solicitor and Kieran’s father, Ruth and Kieran themselves, the only minors privileged to receive an invitation, executing a much-practiced chassée with precision. And there were other more shadowy forms: a man and woman from the 1930s perhaps, what might have been a Regency Frenchman and his partner, and of course, Granny and Grandpa.

  Amanda heart swelled. Suddenly she felt an arm around her waist and smelled an unmistakable scent. She turned to see the rapturously beautiful face of Jessica James, close beside her.

  ‘Hello, angel,’ said The Ice Queen, supermodel, village belle, and daughter to Irene of The Elms.

  ‘Jessica, glad you could make it,’ smiled Amanda, giving her a careful hug, so as not to disturb her flawless makeup and coiffure. ‘You’re looking very fine indeed.’

  ‘Thanks. You too. But this is a flying visit. I have to be at a do by 11. Just wanted to see Pamela in action.’

  ‘You’ve done a fabulous job. She’s so happy, anyone can see.’

  ‘You know, I really enjoyed it. I mean, really. Using what comes naturally to me after all these years to see her so … transformed.’

  ‘I think, before you leave, you should go over to Claire and tell her what you’ve just told me,’ Amanda suggested merrily. ‘I think you may both be the answer to one another’s prayers.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The modelling exit strategy you need and the meaningful project Claire needs.’

  ‘Sorry? I’m all at sea.’

  ‘Doing something you clearly love and have an aptitude for, Jessica,’ elucidated Amanda. ‘No one is doing a makeover show for teenagers. Especially not with a supermodel.’

  ‘Oh my goodness … You really think Claire might be interested?’

  ‘Jessica, I think the chances are excellent.’

  ‘Thank you, darling.’ A quick perfumed kiss on Amanda’s cheek, a swirl of black bob and she was gone.

  ‘Amanda?’ came sheepish tones from beside her.

  ‘Ryan, good evening. Are you enjoying the party?’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘I imagine you and your family are still feeling the relief from all you’ve been through.’

  ‘Of course, we are … look, I never apologised to you properly. I know I gave the impression that I … we … I’ve always liked you, you know. Really. Not just because I was being … trying to get … information. I didn’t mean to …’

  This blundering speech, so far from Ryan’s usual smooth manner, propelled her into inappropriate giggles.

  ‘Oh please, Ryan, it’s quite all right. I promise you, my heart is more than intact!’

  ‘I’m glad, and again I’m so very, very sorry and I’m hoping that now we can honestly be friends.’

  ‘That’s very good of you but, you know, it’s not like you had a choice. There truly is no blame here except on the Flamgoynes. But that’s all over now. Yes, indeed: friends. And we have Cornwall in common now. Although, I thought Gordon French said you were born in Portsmouth.’

  ‘I was
born in Plymouth. People often get them confused.’

  ‘The Cornish side?’ asked Amanda.

  ‘No, I regret to say, the less romantic side.’

  ‘No crime in that.’

  ‘Indeed. So really … friends?’

  She laughed at his anxious puppy expression. ‘Really. Friends.’

  Ryan smiled for the first time that evening, held out his hand and they shook on it.

  At the same time, Trelawney was being presented with an equally sheepish John Bailey-Farrell.

  ‘Inspector, I know this isn’t the time or the place, but could we step into the hall?’

  ‘Of course, John. In fact, I’m sure Miss Cadabra won’t mind if we use her onsite workshop,’ replied Trelawney, and led the way to the small dining-room. Once in seclusion, Bailey-Farrell launched into speech.

  ‘I had to tell you something, Inspector. I feel dreadful for not telling you when you interviewed me, but it just would have … looked … and it really had nothing to do with it …’

  ‘Please tell me, John. I did think at the time that you were holding something back. I suspected equally that it was something not necessarily relevant. It’s good of you to want to tell me now.’

  Encouraged, John slowed down and spoke the awful truth.

  ‘Samantha did say something to me that I didn’t mention. You see … my book … well, it’s not really my book … that is … I had a ghost writer, only the publicity machine told me not to say. Only Samantha was so much on the inside of the whole team thing that she found out somehow. When she came to say hello, she whispered in my ear that she knew.’

  ‘I see. As a matter of interest, what did she say?’

  ‘Erm … “Oh, all your own work, hey? Not going to give up the ghost?” She looked at me sort of challengingly and seductively then she went off. I’m sure it was just more of her nonsen— well … not to speak ill of the dead …’

  ‘Thank you, John. What would have happened if the information had become public?’ enquired Trelawney.