Amanda Cadabra and The Cellar of Secrets

by Holly Bell

  Of course, he would have to be part of her magical world. That factor was a given, and Amanda was sensing only a little of that nature about the man sitting around the corner of the desk.

  Toby had seated her to one side of it, and made sure that she could see the computer screen. It was an open and companionable arrangement.

  ‘OK to call you, Amanda?’

  In his case, she really didn’t mind. ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘Have to ask. Rules of priority. How’s the chair? Best I could obtain from the biggest group-therapy room.’

  ‘I’m sure you were very persuasive,’ she said, lightly.

  ‘You’re too kind,’ he returned graciously

  ‘And it’s certainly comfortable, thank you, Dr Sadiqi.’

  ‘Please call me Toby. I find all of this titles business a bit antiquated, don’t you? We’re both a bit young for that, wouldn’t you say?’

  Amanda wasn’t sure how old he was. He looked 25 but was probably nearer 30, given the length of time it took to become a fully-fledged physician.

  She nodded good-naturedly. ‘You’re right. Toby, it is.’ He turned the screen towards her. ‘All details present and correct?’

  Amanda confirmed that they were, and he continued, ‘My approach is a little different from Dr Schofield’s.’

  Amanda relief was visible.

  He went on, ‘I’m a digger.’

  ‘A digger?’ she said, with amused scepticism. ‘You look like a doctor to me.’

  He laughed

  ‘It’s the white coat,’ she jested.

  ‘Misleading, isn’t it?’ he said merrily. ‘What I mean is. I like to get to the bottom of things, find the root cause, what’s underneath.’

  ‘You’re a frustrated archaeologist?’ she smiled.

  ‘Yes! I am at heart a Howard Carter, an Indiana Jones, if you will.’

  ‘Without the hat,’ Amanda observed, getting into the spirit of the thing.

  ‘Indeed,’ he agreed. ‘So I hope you won’t mind a lot of questions and going over old ground, so I can get a picture of the lie of the land, and perhaps a peek at the bedrock.’

  ‘Of course,’ she agreed, readily.

  Senara and Perran had appeared seated in chairs, to the left and a little back from Amanda and Toby, but where they could still see the screen. They each gave a little wave, which Amanda stoically ignored.

  ‘So when did the asthma start?’ asked Toby.

  ‘Just before I was three years old, according to my grandparents,’ replied Amanda.

  ‘That’s right, love,’ said Perran.

  ‘Any other members of either family have a history of asthma, eczema, anything like that?’ Toby checked.

  Senara and Perran both shook their heads.

  ‘None whatever,’ said Senara.

  ‘They say — said not, ‘ replied Amanda, hastily correcting her tense.

  ‘Any respiratory infections at that age?’

  ‘No,’ said Senara definitely.

  ‘No,’ repeated Amanda.

  ‘Do you remember being exposed to any chemicals that could have set it off?’ Toby queried.

  Senara and Perran looked at one another then shook their heads.

  ‘No,’ said Amanda.

  ‘You sound sure,’ observed Toby.

  ‘My grandparents were very informative on the matter,’ responded Amanda, truthfully. ‘I too wondered, years ago, what might have started it.’

  ‘Well, it’s all helpful. It means we can eliminate those factors. Had any scans?’

  ‘Not for years.’

  ‘OK, I’m going to send you for one. How about blood tests?’ He looked at the screen, scrolling down. ‘I can’t see that Dr Schofield …’

  ‘No, no, she didn’t, and I haven’t had any for years.’

  ‘Let’s do some now. OK with needles?’

  Amanda smiled. ‘Fine.’

  ‘We’ll leave you to it,’ said Grandpa.

  ‘This one’s much better,’ noted Granny, nodding with satisfaction. They waved and melted into the ether. Amanda was relieved. She felt that having her grandparents present was somewhat cramping her style.

  ‘Just going to pop into the lab here,’ said Toby, gesturing behind him as he got up.

  ‘I wondered about that,’ said Amanda. ‘It wasn’t here last time.’

  ‘No,’ he called through the open door. ‘They created it especially for me, would you believe? Isn’t that nice of them?’

  Amanda wasn’t sure how to respond. The word ‘why’ presented itself to her, but she was searching for a polite way to say it.

  ‘Ever wondered about the running costs of this centre?’ he asked.

  ‘Erm ... sponsors?’ tried Amanda. ‘And they said something at the inauguration about the facilities upstairs?’.

  ‘Sponsors, yes, for the setup costs,’ he said coming back into the room with a small trolley carrying a kidney-shaped disk, a long, slender, flexible tube and some phials. ‘Have you seen the big lab upstairs?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, on Inauguration Day.’

  ‘Well, that has been handling mainly lab work for other health organisations. That’s one source of income. Another is the accommodation on the same floor for patients visiting from afar. There’s also the café, and the therapists' rooms.’

  ‘The therapists' rooms?’

  ‘Yes, they rent them. They were only on full-time contracts for the first month. Now the therapists come in, as and when, as freelancers. But for the first two months of a treatment course, this place foots the bill and, after that , … well, low-income patients are subsidised, but anyone else who can afford to pay has the option of continuing privately.’

  ‘I noticed that some therapists had left and others had replaced them,’ commented Amanda.

  ‘Yes, I noticed that too. Curious. Because the low room rents are still attractive.’

  ‘And no one seemed to know why they left.’

  ‘Did you ask around?’ enquired Toby.

  ‘Yes.’

  He smiled and looked up at her appreciatively. ‘Good for you. I can see that we’re going to get on famously.’

  Amanda twinkled but said, recalling him to the original subject ‘So why have they built this lab for you?’

  ‘Ah, well, I am a trained lab technician, so I was happy to double up with the bloodwork when I don’t have patients. For the most part, I’m just a portal to the other practitioners, so I do have the time, and it saves the Centre money.’

  ‘You’re not a homoeopath then like Dr Schofield?’

  ‘No, that’s now one of the freelance therapists since she left. Now please could I have your arm, and don’t worry about a thing. I am a trained phlebotomist,’ said Toby.

  ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me? asked Amanda rhetorically.

  He grinned. ‘Just a keen student of whatever comes my way.’ Toby continued to chat as he took the blood tests. ‘Even though I work all hours, I do take breaks. Lunch breaks even. How would you like to continue our consideration of the Mystery of the Disappearing Therapists over lunch at er … The Snout and Trough, is it?’

  ‘Hold on,’ said Amanda. ‘Are you allowed to do that? Aren’t you supposed to keep professional and social relationships separate, or something?’

  ‘Once I refer you, you won’t be my patient anymore. I told you, I’m just a portal.’

  ‘Well, you haven’t referred me yet,’ pointed out Amanda firmly.

  ‘Coffee in the café here then. We can sit at separate tables if you like,’ he offered.

  Amanda laughed. ‘That I can agree to.’

  ‘Just a moment,’ he said, and picked up the phone on his desk. ‘Hi, Robert? .... Good, thanks. … Got any scan time today? … When is she in? … Uhuh …. OK, I’ve got a patient here I’d like …. Sure I’ll hold.‘ He looked at Amanda saying. ‘He’s going to see if he can get the radiologist to come in tomorrow.’


  They waited in silence until Amanda said, quietly. ‘I appreciate your expediting matters.’

  ‘You’re welcome. I am eager to find out what there is to be discover —. Yes, Robert, still here … that’s great.’ He put a hand over the phone. ‘Tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘Sure!’

  ‘Thanks, Robert, and thanks to Jen.’ He put the phone down. ‘Right. Tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you!’

  ‘It’ll take a few days to process the results. Then we’ll take it from there. Should be all ready by this time next week. Good for you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed willingly.

  ‘Coffee?’

  Amanda grinned. ‘OK.’

  Seated at the same table, with large steaming cups before them, they conferred.

  ‘You know, I did apply for this job in the very beginning,’ Toby told Amanda. ‘Thought I was neck and neck but the best man, er, person won.’

  ‘I expect Dr Schofield may have been relieved about the post winding up for her,’ Amanda responded. ‘After all, she was travelling every day all the way from Dover.’

  ‘Phew, that’s a hike.’

  Echoing what Charlotte had said, Amanda continued, ‘And I’m not sure she really felt she fitted in here, anyway.’

  ‘But she’s a homoeopath, I thought.’

  ‘So did I.’

  ‘Interesting,’ said Toby, his eyes gleaming with interest. ‘So you’ve been on board from the beginning of the whole project, being a local villager? Notice anything else odd?’

  ‘Yes, I became friends with a member of the construction crew. We were curious about what was underneath the north wing. When he asked around, he got a slap on the wrist, and the other team members didn’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Do you know what’s underneath?’ Toby asked, curiously.

  ‘Just a bombed-out pub and some cottages. It’s not like it’s King Tutankhamen’s tomb.’

  ‘Hm. Wonder if there’s any way to get down there, though?’ pondered Toby thoughtfully.

  ‘The area is cordoned off. Haven’t you noticed?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s only tape; it’s not like it’s an electrified fence.’

  ‘But wouldn’t that be trespassing?’ asked Amanda. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble.’

  ‘It’s nice of you to care,’ he said, hopefully.

  ‘Well, you’re the best doctor I’ve seen here,’ she countered pragmatically.

  ‘Er … thank you.’

  ‘Promise me you won’t do anything until you’ve made some very discreet enquiries,’ urged Amanda.

  ‘I can have a chat with one or two of the therapists,’ suggested Toby,’ or maybe Bill. Yes, Bill!’

  ‘Be careful. I must get to work now, Toby. Thank you for the consultation and the fast track scan. See you next week.’

  He stood up. ‘Back to work for me too. I’ll get another cup to take back to the office. Till next week.’

  As Amanda turned out of the door, she smiled knowingly, observing Toby chatting up the attractive café counter staff.

  Chapter 23

  Thomas Versus Penelope

  Hogarth calculated, as he observed Thomas standing in front of the bookcase again. It had been almost two months since the evening that Thomas had dashed out of Hogarth’s cottage, and raced off to London to question his mother.

  Thomas had not been forthcoming about that visit, and Hogarth had known better than to probe. However, he noticed that his younger friend was often distracted, and every visit saw him scanning Hogarth’s bookcase.

  Mike set the tea tray on the coffee table. Then he went over to the other bookcase and leaned on it, openly watching Thomas. Suddenly Trelawney noticed his mentor viewing him with some amusement, and smiled.

  ‘I’m not going to find my answers in these spines, am I?’

  ‘That depends on the questions, lad.’

  ‘I suppose that I was hoping that if I ignored them, they’d just go away. That works for some things but not this.’

  ‘Are you ready to tell me what happened, Thomas?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Want to tell me before we eat? Can always heat it up.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll feel more like food once I’ve ….’

  ‘Ok. Go ahead then, lad.’

  They sat down, and Thomas took a sip of tea and a long slow breath.

  ‘Well. After I left here and grabbed an overnight bag …’

  Trelawney had had a quick journey over the Tamar, up the M3 motorway towards London, around the M25 orbital to the North of the metropolis, and down a few miles to his mother’s house.

  Thomas let himself in and startled her. Penelope Trelawney, for she had kept her married name, concerned that the suggestion that her son had been born out of wedlock might impede his progress, was still trim of figure and youthful of countenance. She was sitting on the sofa, in pyjamas, typing away on her laptop. Her short, well-cut blonde hair was wet, and her face free of makeup. There was a glass of wine on the sustainable wood coffee table in front of her.

  ‘Good heavens, Thomas!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Hello, Mum,’ he greeted her, with a smile, going over to kiss her cheek.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Well, you might have called,’ she said, with mild exasperation. ‘You’re usually so good about that.’

  ‘It was a spur of the moment thing.’

  ‘So I gather.’

  ‘Why? You don’t mind, do you?’ asked Thomas in surprise, hanging his jacket up in the hall.

  ‘Well, darling … I might have had a man here!’

  ‘A man? What man?’ asked her bewildered son, coming back into the room, and looking around.

  ‘You know? A date?’ prompted his mother.

  ‘A date?’ The thought was new to him.

  ‘Yes,’ said his mother, testily. ‘Exhibit A: my birth certificate indicating I am not yet in my dotage. Exhibit B: Degree Absolute proving I am divorced from your father. Please see absence of death certificate.’

  ‘Oh, I see what you mean,’ said Thomas grinning. ‘Yes … er, I’m sorry, Mum … only I thought you broke up with Judas last year.’

  ‘His name was Jude, and that was five years ago. Do try to keep up, darling.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. Look —’

  ‘Sit down,’ she instructed her son. ‘I’m about to order pizza. Do you want some?’

  ‘Bit late, isn’t’ it?’ commented Thomas, perching on the edge of an armchair next to the sofa.

  ‘I wasn’t hungry before. I’m hungry now, and I’m going to order. I’m having the Vegan Four Seasons. Would you like something?’

  ‘I’ll have the same,’ he said, distractedly.

  ‘Darling, you don’t like Vegan Four Seasons. Have Ham and Mushroom Miracolo.’

  ‘Er, yes, thanks, Mum. Ham and Mushroom Miracolo,’ Thomas echoed automatically.

  As his mother ordered online, Thomas considered that he was good at his job, thought to be one of the most skilful interviewers in Cornwall, in fact. After all, he had been able, over three weeks of careful conversation, to persuade Fangs Mcnarl to grass up Jimmy The Leg. The court had secured a conviction and Thomas had even got a commendation for it.

  And yet, somehow, within minutes, he would utterly lose the thread of a conversation to his mother. Of course, the fact that she was his mother, and had been the one to tell him to eat his breakfast and to make him do his homework at the beginning of the holidays, might have had something to do with it.

  Penelope pressed the final submit button on the order screen and looked up.

  ‘There. Now, what was it that has put you in such a fever to converse with your maternal parent that you have come hotfoot from the south-east at this time of night?’

  Witnesses and offenders didn’t say that either. He had forgotten his opening speech that he
had been rehearsing on the journey up.

  ‘Um. There was … is … something that I need to know, Mum.’

  ‘Something you can’t google, I gather,’ said his mother, kindly.

  ‘About our family,’ he explained.

  ‘Ah,’ she uttered, cryptically.

  Thomas knew that tone.

  ‘Please, please, don’t put me off,’ he entreated. Somehow he had to get her on his side. ‘I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve been having dreams. Dreams about the old house and Dad’s family.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, love,’ said his mother contritely, reaching out her hand to him. ‘Yes, I see now that you do look a shade worn down. All right. What is it that you want to know?’

  He paused preparing to gather momentum with his next sentence. It was interrupted.

  ‘Please, darling, don’t use any of your police warm-up techniques on me. Just say it.’

  ‘What was the deal?’ he asked.

  ‘What deal?’

  ‘I’ve remembered. I used to hear you say to Dad, “We had a deal.”’

  His mother stared at him. In spite of her insistence that Thomas should come out with whatever it was, she was unprepared for this bald question.

  ‘Mum … what was the deal?’

  ‘Ahhh,’ she said. Penelope put her laptop aside and leaned forward to pick up her glass and take a sip. It was her turn to choose her words.

  ‘Your father’s family was very … dominating … I don’t want to speak ill of them because they are related to you.’

  ‘No, please, go ahead,’ he encouraged her.

  She continued. ‘I didn’t like them. Actually, neither did your father. But they had some kind of a hold over him. For me, it was a deal-breaker. I suppose we should never have set up home there, in Cornwall. Things might have been different but … I don’t think so. They kept pulling him back into the fold. I put up with it … because I loved him, I suppose … and then you came along, and we made a deal. He had to break with them, or I would take you and leave.’