by Holly Bell
‘Go to it, DC Little-red-riding-hood.’ He grinned, and she departed post-haste.
***
It was not long before Trelawney received the news that, together with the evidence the police already had on Loftleigh, Samantha’s contribution would certainly be enough to bring him to justice. Loftus Loftleigh was, in vulgar parlance, ‘goin’ down’.
Veronica was also unquestionably complicit. It looked as though she would be downsizing, to a cell in Holloway prison. However, preferring to avoid the humiliation and privations of this lifestyle, surrounded by luxury, she chose instead to imbibe a cocktail of lethal substances, from which she slipped into slumber and thence to oblivion. And so ended the distaff side of a once noble house.
Loftleigh, by dint of feigning a heart attack and claiming he had only days to live, had persuaded his former son-in-law to accede to a request regarding Samantha’s memorial.
Consequently, Damian made a compassionate concession to Loftus and Veronica, considering that without their conniving, he would never have become father to, and enjoyed what time he had had with, the little Samantha. Damian had accordingly arranged that a third line be included on his daughter headstone:
Here lies Samantha Veronica Gibbs
Beloved daughter
Last of the Loftleighs
Those who have transitioned to another level, Granny and Grandpa had explained to Amanda, rarely visit the places where their physical remains are interred.
‘On account of such locations,’ expounded Granny, ‘tending to be depressing venues, frequented by rather gloomy persons. And there is so much and see and do here, it’s really not a popular pastime.’
Consequently, it came to pass that Samantha, accompanied by her grandmother Marion Gibbs — no longer addicted to spirits of the corporeal kind but still partial to the odd glass of good Chablis and a lively party — came but once to inspect her tombstone. Kneeling on the grass, reading down the marble slab, suddenly Sam threw back her head and laughed with delight.
‘Oh Dad, gotta love you! Look, Grandma!’
For there, at the end, appended at her father’s insistence, beneath Last of the Loftleighs, he had had written:
Gone shopping.
Chapter 59
Serious Witchcraft, A Gift from Below, and New Questions
In the workshop, tidying up for the week ahead, Amanda found herself now and then breaking into song, even dance.
‘Very nice, bian.’
‘Oh Grandpa, I didn’t see you there.’
‘That’s because I wasn’t. We just arrived.’
‘Good morning, Granny.’
‘Yes, dear, indeed it is. Just the morning to broach a particular matter.’
Amanda put down the chisel she was cleaning and leaned back against her workbench.
‘Oh?’
‘Your grandfather and I feel that, now you have this new mode of employment, it’s time you started taking your witchcraft seriously.’
Amanda, dumbstruck at first, almost imploded with the effort of restraining her indignation.
‘What? Granny! What do you think I’ve been doing until now?’
‘Barely scratching the surface, I’d say,’ replied Senara breezily.
‘Huh?’ was all Amanda could manage in reply.
‘Now then, bian, calm down. What your granny is trying to say is that you have skills you’ve yet to explore that could be very valuable to you in your … on your road ahead.’
‘What? This is in addition to improving my ability to see through Tempest’s eyes? Is there yet another hidden volume to the Cardiubarn grimoires? Yet another one you haven’t told me about?’ Amanda directed an accusing glance at her constitutionally secretive grandmother. Senara looked innocently at the ceiling.
‘No, love,’ intervened Perran. ‘This isn’t a Cardiubarn thing at all.’ Amanda was mollified. ‘In fact, it isn’t something either of us has hidden from you.’
‘Well, what then, Grandpa?’
‘It’s Cadabra magic. The most advanced.’ Now Amanda was interested. ‘Think of all the things you learned to lift and move.’
‘Yes? You want me to learn to move even heavier things?’ she queried.
‘Well, yes, that’s important. But this isn’t a very heavy thing.’
Amanda looked around the workshop.
‘I’m sure I can levitate everything that’s in here at the moment.’
‘All except one thing, bian.’
Frowning with perplexity, she continued to search the room with her eyes.
‘I don’t know, Grandpa. Whatever can it be?’
He replied simply,
‘You.’
‘Me?’
‘You might be able to learn to lift yourself.’
‘Levitate myself?’
‘Yes. Some Cadabras can.’
Amanda was stunned.
‘Wow … Can you, Grandpa?’
‘Well now, we don’t need to get into that, bian. This is about you. We think you’re ready, your granny and I. Ready to begin training to see if you’ve got the gift.’
‘Oh … Grandpa … are you sure? … I … The Cadabras can do this? They can … I … fly through the air on a broomstick?’
‘Well, the broomstick helps, but an advanced levitant doesn’t need it.’
His granddaughter stared at him wide-eyed at this string of revelations, finally managing, ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
‘Because, my dear,’ replied Granny cheerfully, ‘it’s incredibly dangerous.’
‘Er …’
‘Anyway, I can see you have cleaning up here to finish, so don’t let us hold you up. We’ll discuss this further at tea-time,’ Senara concluded briskly.
‘That’s right, bian. Now, it’s nothing for you to worry about. Just have a think and see how you feel about it. We’d better be off or we’ll be late.’
‘Croquet, dear, with the Einsteins,’ Granny added. ‘Mileva really is a most interesting woman.’
‘Albert’s wife?’ asked Amanda curiously.
‘Indeed. Must go.’
‘See you later, love.’ And with a wave, they disappeared back into the ether.
Amanda shook her head in disbelief and looked instinctively at her familiar. He stared back, communicating; I can’t believe you didn’t see that coming.
Humans, Tempest marvelled, were astonishing. It was a miracle that they’d survived this long and got to what they fondly imagined was the top of the food chain, equipped only with such primitive intelligence. Still, it wasn’t enough to keep him awake at night. Or any time, for that matter. He curled up and promptly fell asleep.
***
‘Have you seen her, Mike?’ asked Vera of her brother, as she sat with him and her husband Harry, enjoying the sunset. The deck of their house in Spain looked out over the Mediterranean Sea.
‘Lucy? Not yet,’ replied Hogarth, ‘Tomorrow. She could have told me she was making a covert trip to Cornwall.’
‘You’d have made a fuss, especially if you knew she was going to infiltrate Cardiubarn Hall,’ stated Vera.
‘I never make a fuss,’ Mike replied blithely.
‘Here,’ put in Harry, passing over a second bowl of his own homemade cheese puffs. They were Mike’s favourite of all his chef brother-in-law’s specialities. Harry and Vera had been making a comfortable living for many years writing cookery books.
‘Hmmm, thanks, Harry.’
‘You’re welcome. So … Thomas and Amanda Cadabra in partnership, eh? That will be interesting.’
‘Do you think he’s falling in love with her,’ Vera asked her brother.
‘Too soon for that, but if he is, I’d say he’s fighting it tooth and nail every step of the way.’
‘Of course,’ said Harry, ‘he’s a man.’
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ declared his wife robustly. ‘I was just the same …’ She caught sight of her hu
sband’s teasing smile. ‘Oh, you!’
‘You rise to the fly every time,’ Harry responded fondly. ‘It’s one of the many things I adore about you.’
She shook a playful finger at him. He grinned back at her, then, turning his attention again to his brother-in-law, asked,
‘Are you going to tell Amanda the whole of Lucy’s story?’
‘No, no. I doubt she’s ready for that.’
‘I wonder if the world is ready for any of it,’ mused Vera.
‘I like to think so. Or at least, perhaps one day they will. One day soon,’ replied Mike, hopefully.
‘The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr, you used to call it,’ she recalled.
Mike smiled.
‘And so it was … is.’
‘Just enough then?’ suggested Vera.
‘Yes, I’ll just tell Amanda what she needs to know. In due course. She has enough to think about for now. Yes … quite enough.’
***
The temperature was, for March, fairly scorching, at 17 degrees Celsius. Certainly it was warm enough for Amanda and Tempest to have a picnic. They parked near the library and began the walk to their favourite spot.
‘Amanda!’ came a familiar voice from behind them.
‘Jonathan?’ He was hurrying to catch up. Amanda stopped and walked back to meet him. ‘Is everything all right? You haven’t had any more of those dreams, have you?’
‘Oh no, thank you, Amanda. Everything is all right. In fact, I think it may be more than all right. See this?’
Jonathan showed her a green clothbound book, embossed in black and gold. He opened it to the title page.
‘Look.’
There is was: Observations on the Geology of Hertfordshire, 1796 by Hugh G. Stowan.
‘Oh, I say.’
‘And look at the contents page, the title of chapter 13,’ Jonathan urged.
‘“Legends of the Soothsayer.” My goodness!’ She turned quickly to the page and scanned it. ‘Yes! It’s all here. Our Oracle. But … this book?’
‘I was down in the stacks, finally getting round to cataloguing some of my books that I’m giving to the library, when I found it. Amanda, I would swear in a court of law that this book was not there before, nor anywhere else in the library.’
‘You think this is a good sign?’
‘I do. I think the Oracle wanted me to find it, to show it to you too. I think it’s a sort of message,’ he added earnestly.
‘Like, sorry I tried to kill you last time you visited, and I won’t do it again?’
‘I don’t know if it goes that far. But … I think if we don’t bother her … somehow, she’ll keep helping us. At least, you. That is, if there’s a murder. Which is very unlikely.’
‘Maybe. I hope so. I’d like to think so.’
‘Take it up to the priory with you,’ Jonathan encouraged her.
‘Does everyone in this village always know where I’m going, do you think?’ she asked comically.
‘It doesn’t take a great detective like you or Inspector Trelawney to deduce from your basket, in fine weather on Sunday, that you’re headed for your favourite place for a picnic, Amanda.’
‘It does give the game away. Thank you, Jonathan. I would like to take the book with me. I’ll bring it back.’
‘No rush, I’ve issued it on your ticket for three weeks,’ replied the conscientious assistant librarian.
‘Thank you. Er, you haven’t had any more of those dreams, then, have you?’
‘No. I’m sleeping well, very well. Shall I let you know if they come back?’
‘Yes, please. You know … you were very brave to …’
‘Actually, I rather liked it,’ Jonathan admitted confidentially. ‘That is, I was quite terrified but … I’ve never done a brave thing in my life, and I do realise it was just all happening in my head … but it felt … good.’
‘In your head … yes. Just the same, you really did splendidly.’
‘Thank you, Amanda. You know, if you or the inspector need my help again with … communicating with the lady downstairs so to speak,’ said Jonathan, for the first time, drawing himself up to his full height, and, with eyes sparkling, asserted, ‘then I’m your man.’
Amanda smiled.
‘I’ll remember that.’
‘One other thing. I found that book you said Mrs Entwhistle wanted. Yes, in the stacks. I’m sure I’ve never seen or catalogued it and so is Mrs Pagely. So how on earth Mrs Entwhistle was sure it was down there, is a mystery. Anyway, I must get back. See you soon.’ Jonathan nodded and strode, actually strode, off back towards the library.
‘Well, well,’ Amanda remarked to Tempest, ‘you really never can tell about people.’
They progressed a few paces before Amanda stopped.
‘Do you think the Oracle put the book title in Mrs Entwhistle’s head? Was she contriving to get me to go down to the stacks, so I’d find the body?’ Amanda shook her head in bewilderment. ‘Oh well, as Jonathan said, it’s just one more mystery.’
They continued their short journey to the ruins of the thousand-year-old Priory on the north side of the village. Here, Amanda scaled carefully to her aerie, her chosen place to picnic, think, look out over her village and lands beyond and take stock. It was also her place to consider her most perplexing questions.
This was the view Amanda loved the most: Sunken Madley, almost model size, framed by orchards and woods, her neighbours going about their Sunday routines. There was already plenty of colour now in the lanes and gardens, with the daffodils waving their golden trumpets. Soon there would be bluebells in the woods, and the chartreuse green of spring would spread and deepen. Best of all, the apple orchards would bloom.
Suddenly, something Humpy had said had come back to her:
‘Hillers and I are thinking we’ll spend a bit more time with Great-aunt Cynthia and Aunt Gwendolen and dear old Moffat. You know, just to be on hand.’
‘Good!’ had been her instant reply. For she had developed real affection for the couple during this last visit. It boded well for her future time working at The Grange.
‘You know, Tempest,’ Amanda reflected. ‘I feel like I’m only just getting to know them, especially Humpy. I feel like I’m only just getting to know Jonathan and, in hindsight, Samantha and, oh my goodness, the Hillands! Not just that, though: Sunken Madley. I thought I understood what makes this village tick. But I’m only just beginning to. Maybe everyone, every place, has hidden depths.’
Amanda arranged their blanket, insulating them from their makeshift stone seat, more comfortably, and got out her ham and Branston pickle sandwiches. Tempest did not care for pickle, and so she had several carefully chosen morsels in a separate shallow box for him. She placed the container before her familiar and stroked his thick grey fur affectionately.
‘Nevertheless, Granny and Grandpa seem to think we’ve done well. So ... so far, so good. At last, we know who did what and when to dispatch my nasty relations. But now ... why do I always seem to end up with more questions than I started with? I suppose one of them, at least, is an old question.’
The identity of the Wicc’Lord … it was supposed to be the most almighty secret. There never seemed to be any way of making progress with that one but ... what was Lucy’s story? Why was Uncle Mike so evasive about telling her there and then? And what about this self-levitation thing? It just sounded too farfetched. And how was this new partnership with the inspector going to work? Above all, there was the mystery of the location of the grimoire. The key to her asthma and perhaps so much more.
She drew Tempest a little closer to her. She looked out over the newly budding trees of the village and woods around, out over London, out to the West, as though she might sense the ancient magical tome’s presence on the wind.
‘Where is it? This is my toughest puzzle yet. But I have a new friend, a proper police ally now. I have you, I have two wands and three spellbooks. I’m a
witch. What’s more, I’m a Cornish witch. Tempest, that book is out there somewhere. And I’m going to find it,’ said Amanda Cadabra.
The End
Coming soon: Inspector Hogarth Investigates – The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr
Amanda Cadabra and The Hidey-Hole Truth (Book 1 of the series)
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths. I hope you enjoyed your visit (or return visit) to Sunken Madley both present and past, and your trip to Cornwall.
If the story gave you pleasure, I would love you to tell me your thoughts about your journey through the book. And if you could write a review, that would be tremendously helpful. You can post it on the e-store where you bought the book (if you’re not sure how to post a review on Amazon, there is a how-to on my website) or on Facebook, Twitter or your social platform of choice. It would mean a great deal to me.
Best of all would be if you dropped me a line at [email protected] so we can connect in person. If there is a character you especially liked or anything you would like more of, please let me know. Amanda Cadabra Book 6 is in the pipeline, and I want to make sure that all of the things that you liked about the first three books make an appearance for you.
For tidbits on the world of Sunken Madley and to keep up with news of the continuing adventures of our heroes Amanda, Tempest, Granny and Grandpa, Trelawney and Hogarth, visit www.amandacadabra.com, where you can also request to enter the VIP Readers Group or sign up for the newsletter to stay in touch and find out about the next sequel. The VIP Readers is a limited numbers group. Members are invited to receive and review an advance copy of the next book. If you are one of that treasured number, thank you for reading, evaluating and giving your precious feedback.
