Amanda Cadabra and The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr

by Holly Bell

‘Well now ... the Moor is a big place. There must have been any number of fires over the centuries. Unless ....’

  ‘Unless?’

  ‘It’s possible ....’

  ‘You know of somewhere?’

  ‘Let’s let the story unfold, shall we? All I will say is that I don’t think your flammable building came out of your imagination.’

  Once they had feasted on finest Cornish pasties and chips, Kyt suggested,

  ‘I thought you might like a stroll around the town.’

  ‘I would. But first ... if it isn’t far ... and it isn’t too morbid ... I’d rather like to see the bend in the road where the Cardiubarn van, er ....’

  ‘Where your so-charming family met its —’

  ‘— just desserts, some might say!’ Amanda finished.

  ‘Of course, we can pay it a visit. It’s only a few minutes’ drive.’

  ‘Thank you, Kyt. Simply curious.’

  ‘Well, it is a bit of a local spot for a ghost story, you know, so you’re not the only one.’

  Driving east out of Parhayle, soon brought Kyt and Amanda to the B6244. He pulled over onto a verge where the road curved sharply to the left, and parked the car.

  ‘Here?’ she asked. ‘This is where the van went over?’

  ‘That’s right.’ They got out of the car. ‘Don’t get too close to the edge now.’ Kyt held Amanda’s arm as she leaned forward a little, looking down between the pines at the rocks below. ‘No place for speeding when the fog rolls in off the Channel. If it freezes, you can skate on it. But the council is very diligent. The gritters are out overnight at the slightest chance of ice.’

  ‘That’s good. But long ago that wouldn’t have been the case, so I can see why there’d be stories about it.’ Amanda looked up and down the road for a minute or so, then said with a smile,

  ‘Thank you, Kyt, I’ve seen enough.’

  ‘Well then, how about a saunter down Gocky Street, sample the arcade, see the casino, oh, and The Alley!’

  A few minutes later they were standing in a noisome gap between the backs of two rows of buildings. Amanda looked around and said doubtfully,

  ‘Erm ... I’m not sure what it is I’m supposed to be seeing or, er, smelling.’

  ‘This, my dear, is the scene of one of my son’s accomplishments. It was on this very spot that he broke up a faceoff between Terence ‘Trigger-happy’ Jenkins and Benny ‘the Barrel’ Hines, no less.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘He never told you about that? He got a commendation for it. A very tricky situation.’

  ‘No, the inspector has never mentioned it.’

  ‘A testament to our Thomas’s modesty, as well as his courage.’

  ‘I am in no doubt as to either, I promise you,’ Amanda replied warmly.

  ‘Glad you came, though?’

  ‘Yes. I like seeing the places where he’s grown up and worked.’

  ‘Yes well, we’ll save the baby pictures. However, I could show you where the police station is.’

  ‘I’d like that, only, I wouldn’t want to disturb the inspector,’ answered Amanda anxiously.

  ‘No, we shall just admire from afar!’

  Kyt got Amanda home in plenty of time for a rest then a shower and change of clothes.

  She found herself ready 45 minutes too early. It was difficult to resist pacing and watching the clock.

  Chapter 5

  Cal’s Proposal

  At last, and punctually, Trelawney arrived to find Amanda emerging from the front door, coated, gloved and scarved against the early spring chill. He suppressed a smile.

  There was an old mattress leaning on the hall wall in Hogarth’s cottage. Later, when Trelawney stepped into the garden for a breath of air, he found large pieces of worn bedroom carpet on the patio. They appeared to have been cast out of the window above. Thomas refrained from asking Mike about them, assuming his friend would tell him if he so wished.

  Amanda likewise resisted the temptation to question Hogarth about Lucy’s story, either before or during dinner. As he served pudding and tea to Amanda on the sofa and Thomas in an armchair, he commended her.

  ‘Well done, my dear. A valiant struggle! It shall now be rewarded. To continue then ….’

  ***

  A year later found Cal tapping on the door of his parents’ department. His first attempt at talking to Sir Philip had been foiled by an important phone call that his father had had to take. This time he had made an appointment.

  Lady Rayke opened and, with an encouraging nod, ushered Cal into the room. Sir Philip looked over his glasses with a kindly air of anticipation, and his son took a seat opposite him at the desk.

  ‘Ah, Cal. Excellent. Sit down, sit down.’

  ‘I’m sitting down, Dad. Thank you.’

  ‘Yes, yes, so you are. Now your mother has told me that there is a matter regarding your future you wish to broach with me. Have I that correctly?’

  ‘Yes, Dad.’

  ‘If it’s about that er, ... girl … Winifred —’

  ‘— Imelda, sir.’

  ‘Ah yes, er … So difficult to keep up. Yes ... I really think that you are too young to consider matrimony at this point.’

  Cal chuckled. The undiscerning were all too quick to put Sir Philip down as a doddering fool, but his son knew better, and also knew an ice-breaker when he saw it.

  ‘I couldn’t agree with you more, sir. And, by the way, Imelda and I are still just friends.’

  ‘Well now, that’s a relief. So, what is it?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about this for a whole year.’

  ‘One sixteenth of a life is not to be sneezed at. Good,’ approved his father. ‘About what precisely?’

  Cal took a deep breath and launched. ‘I would like to work for you. For this department.’

  Sir Philip removed his glasses and leaned back, his expression a mask of gentle interest.

  ‘In what capacity, may I ask?’ he enquired.

  ‘A sleeper.’

  ‘An agent?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right. You see, I’ve been doing some reading — research — finding out whatever I could. It was that day, the day you took the brown pin out of Cornwall, I knew something had happened to the agent there. But look.’ Cal pulled a sheaf of folded papers from his pocket and spread them out on the desk before his father.

  ‘Look, sir. You see the kind of magical events you track and deal with? Where you have your operatives around the UK? I couldn’t help noticing — the Brythonic people, isn’t it? Those who speak Cornish, Welsh, and Breton across the Channel. Wales and Breton have at least two pins nearly always. And Cornwall is a sort of hub between them. It’s pivotal, but there’s no brown pin. You need someone there and ... it could be me.’

  Sir Philip nodded thoughtfully ‘I see. And what about your education?’

  ‘I’ve thought about all that. It’s all part of the plan,’ replied Cal eagerly.

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘I’d need to integrate as much as possible. Of course, I do have some Cornish in me from both of you, but I should be educated there. Go to university, I mean. I’d make contacts there that could stand me in good stead. All right, not in the same way as an Oxbridge college but Cornish contacts, which I think is far more important.’ Cal drew a breath and, hopefully, watched his father, who after a pause, spoke:

  ‘And what would be your chosen career for which this university education would be preparing you? Your cover.’ Cal told his father, who raised his eyebrows. ‘Hm. Well ... hm yes ... could be a sound choice. There would be a ceiling as to how far as your career could progress,’ Sir Philip warned.

  ‘Yes, I know I have to stay obscure. I’ll never be knighted for one thing,’ Cal quipped. That drew a smile from his father, who then enquired,

  ‘All right, and how would you assume this new identity?’

  ‘Well, we’d have to have a blazing row. In public. I mean, for show. I’d storm off to, oh, Timbuktu or somewhe
re, but I’d come back, I mean, to Cornwall, and start my new life.’

  ‘I see. Well now, I won’t say that there aren’t holes in your scheme, but I can, at least, see that you’ve given it some consideration. I tell you what, Cal. Let me think about it.’

  ‘Of course, Dad.’ Cal was relieved that his father had not said ‘no’. He gathered he was being given a ‘maybe’. ‘Well, I’ll be off. Got homework and, er … steak and kidney pudding tonight?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Splendid.’ Sir Philip drew an opened letter towards himself and began making notes on it. Cal lingered in the hope that his father might dispense a crumb or two as to which way his decision might go. None was forthcoming.

  ‘Right, then. I’ll get home and get my maths out of the way and then make a start.’

  ‘Good show.’

  Lady Rayke gave her son a smile and nodded towards the door. Cal took the hint.

  ‘See you later, Dad, Mum.’

  However, at the door, he was recalled.

  ‘Son.’

  ‘Dad?

  ‘You’re a good lad.’

  Cal grinned.

  ‘You’re a good dad.’

  ***

  ‘Right! Tea.’ Hogarth clapped his hands.

  And that was that for the night.

  Chapter 6

  Amanda Makes a New Acquaintance

  Trelawney detected Amanda’s unease as they drove into town for breakfast. Tempest had been checking out the local talent from the car window from the first drive through Parhayle. The day before, he’d gone about his business of charming a lady cat or two. One had been a bit standoffish.

  I could tell her who I am, of course, Tempest had considered. That usually impressed. Sometimes overawed, and very occasionally horrified followed by a speedy exit. It always had an effect, though, that was entirely satisfactory. All but in the case of The One. Natasha: she of the silken cream fur and sapphire eyes, whose domain was The Grange in Sunken Madley. Still, there was, no doubt, diversion to be found, especially in a provincial town where possibly not every human was cautious about the production of the next generation of cats. As they had learned to become in Sunken Madley.

  As Trelawney put the pay and display parking ticket on the dashboard, Amanda watched Tempest go, with a slight frown.

  ‘Is something amiss with your, er, Tempest?’ he asked solicitously.

  ‘No. Nothing’s ever amiss with Tempest except over his ice princess at The Grange. No, Inspector, I can tell he’s on the prowl.’

  ‘Oh, dear. Local wildlife lookout,’ replied Trelawney sympathetically.

  ‘No, no, he’s never serious about that; he just likes to make them nervous. No, I mean he’s cruising.’

  ‘I thought he didn’t like the water.’

  Amanda shook her head. ‘Not that sort. Looking for female, er, companionship of a very short-lived nature.’

  ‘Ah, I see. And that troubles you?’

  ‘Yes, I want to visit again in four months’ time and not find the town crawling with grey kittens and irate owners!’ Amanda remembered a painful scene with Mrs Wooley’s pedigree.

  ‘I was all set for her to produce a litter of purebred British Longhair Silver Shaded Points. White fur and blue eyes. And instead got a brood of grey with yellow eyes!’ had expostulated the enraged lady.

  ‘I’m terribly sorry, Mrs Wooley,’ Amanda had protested, ‘but I’m sure so experienced a breeder as yourself would have kept her indoors while she was in heat.’

  ‘I did! It was him. He got in. I saw him leaving!’

  ‘Oh, dear. Ah.’ What could she say? Amanda had recalled the night when, at 4 am, Tempest had disturbed her, coming in, having completed what for a human would have been the walk of shame, from Mrs Wooley’s house. The emotion of embarrassment, however, was quite unknown to Tempest, with whom Amanda had pleaded, the next morning, to confine his attentions to the moggies of the area. Tempest had heard her out in apparent patience, then yawned and looked pointedly towards the kitchen.

  Amanda had sighed. ‘I don’t know why I bother!’

  Nor do I, had thought Tempest. It is entertaining when she does, though.

  This exchange Amanda related to the inspector, by way of explanation for her anxiety. Trelawney offered what comfort he could think of, then, assured that she would be perfectly content wandering around the town, left for the police station.

  Some half an hour later, Amanda had just emerged from a gift shop when it happened. It was the child’s red coat that caught her eye. Glimpsing a cat under a Ford Transit van on the opposite side of the road from Amanda, the little girl slipped her hand from her mother’s. She darted out into the cobbled road, right in the path of an oncoming pizza delivery scooter, clearly in a hurry. Seeing the child, the rider swerved towards Amanda’s side of the street. An elderly gentleman, standing partly in the road chatting with the Transit’s driver, was invisible in his grey raincoat against the silver of the van. Amanda dashed forward, grabbing the man and wrenching him to safety, just as the young bike rider saw the danger. The motorcyclist jerked his Suzuki away with so much effort that the scooter went over, sending the boy across the cobbles, his helmet thudding into the ground.

  The force of Amanda’s rescue attempt threw the senior off his balance, and the two of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs. The man uttered an oath in Cornish.

  Amanda apologised. ‘Gav dhymm! Drog yw genev! An jynn-diwros,’ she explained, gesturing towards the motorbike.

  He looked at her in surprise and apologised likewise. Unharmed, they helped one another to their feet.

  ‘Are you all right?’ she called out to the motorcyclist, who was getting up, shaken but uninjured.

  ‘Yes, thanks. Sorry, mate!’ he called to the elderly gentleman.

  The mother, having collected her errant infant, likewise called out,

  ‘Sorry! Sorry to all of you. I don’t know how she got away from me so fast.’

  The little one pointed and, by way of elucidation, uttered,

  ‘Cat.’

  ‘Ah,’ sighed the woman.

  Typical, thought Tempest, perched on the roof of the van. Blame it on the cat.

  ‘Thank you for reacting so quickly,’ the mother said to the pizza delivery boy, who had ascertained that his already somewhat battered scooter had escaped unscathed. ‘Sure you’re ok? If you’re late with your delivery, I’ll pay for it. The least I can do.’

  ‘That’s all right, I’ve still got time. Not the first spill I’ve had, or this bike,’ he replied good-naturedly.

  Amanda looked back at the senior beside her. His hand shook as he put it to his head.

  Seeing her concerned expression, he gruffly assured her.

  ‘I’m fine. No damage.’

  ‘But that was rather a shock. You’re probably feeling it as much as I am. Look, sir, we’re right outside a café. Let’s go in and have a cup of tea and something sweet.’

  The man looked at her from under beetling brows, but answered,

  ‘All right, I won’t say no.’

  The van driver led the way with a stack of boxes for the café. Within, Amanda left her companion at a table and went to the counter.

  ‘Two teas, please, and, er, something sweet.’

  ‘Course, my lover,’ replied the lady who was serving. ‘I see what ’appened. If it’s for the gentleman, ’e likes a bit of saffron cake. Doesn’t come in here often, but when he does he’s partial to that.’

  ‘Thank you. Two slices then, please.’

  ‘Dreckly,’ the lady assured her, meaning, ‘at some point’. But Amanda was in no hurry.

  Back at the table, the man commented,

  ‘I haven’t seen you in these parts. Not that I gets out much.’

  ‘I don’t live here, sir,’ Amanda explained.

  ‘Ah. Visitor.’

  ‘Emmet?’ she replied with a gleam, giving the dialect word which wasn’t always used entirely complimentarily. ‘Not exactly a tourist either. I
’m visiting friends for a week or two.’

  ‘But you speak Cornish?’ he asked.

  ‘I was born here. And although I’ve grown up and lived my life Up North, across the border, I learned Cornish from my grandparents. I studied it formally too, took exams and so on.’

  He nodded in approval.

  ‘Well, good to hear it spoken. ’Scuse my cursing, then, miss.’

  She smiled. ‘Not at all, and please call me Amanda.’

  ‘Well then, Amanda, I wasn’t expecting you to understand me.’

  ‘Let’s say my education in the language has been fairly wide!’ That brought forth an unwilling grunt of amusement. ‘Are you feeling better, sir?

  ‘I am. And no need to “sir” me. My name is Pasco.’

  Amanda had only ever heard of one Pasco. But it was a common enough Cornish name, she thought, especially among the older generation, surely. And he seemed perfectly amiable under the crustiness.

  The two of them chatted about the town, dropping into Cornish, until they both became conscious of the time.

  ‘It’s been a rare treat,’ Pasco commented.

  ‘For me too,’ agreed Amanda.

  ‘If you fancy a cup of tea again and a bit more Cornish practice, I could make the time before you go.’

  ‘Oh, I’d like that,’ Amanda accepted enthusiastically. ‘I am at a bit of a loose end during the daytime. Would Friday be too soon?’

  ‘Hm ... I s’pose. All right then, Amanda: 2 o’clock, here, on Friday.’

  The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully, by comparison, until the chance discovery of a bargain pair of leather gloves in Amanda’s favourite colour. This so delighted her that it put her new friend quite out of her mind, even when Trelawney came to find her and drop her back to get ready for the evening.

  When Thomas went upstairs to the bathroom at Hogarth’s, he detected the smell of new carpet. Tracking it to its source, he found it had been fitted in Mike’s bedroom where he appeared to be camping out on a new mattress. The bedroom furniture was huddled in the spare room.