Amanda Cadabra and The Flawless Plan

by Holly Bell

  ‘Some nice bits of wood in here,’ said Grandpa.

  ‘Décor odd. Very odd,’ pronounced Senara. ‘Reminds me of the dancing hippos in Fantasia, for some reason.’

  Their granddaughter frowned at them, and they seated themselves, in two of the salon chairs lining the opposite wall. Amanda did her best to ignore them.

  ‘May I say something?’ Amanda asked Leo, as he returned with the tea in two hand-thrown green and brown mugs, giving no sign of being able to see Senara or Perran.

  ‘Of course,’ he responded readily.

  ‘You don’t seem the type to … that is, you seem more like the City type – movers and shakers – the financial sector – dinner at Quaglino’s, Sketch …’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ agreed Leo, ‘And I look younger and perhaps fitter than I am. I have done that scene. Straight from uni with a degree in business and economics, I joined up with a friend I’d known since school days. He was a furniture maker. Real-deal artisan. We were successful to the point of burnout. Then my friend quit – met a fellow crafter and moved to the coast to set up a studio with her. They invited me down, and when I saw what they had, how happy they both were, it made me rethink my life.’

  Leo paused and looked around. ‘It’s getting rather too cool in here.’ He got up and went to close the back and front doors.

  ‘He does like to talk, doesn’t he?’ remarked Senara. Amanda did not react but waited for Leo to return and continue his story. Tempest had found a shadowy corner in the window, between the wall and one of the boxy display stands, and was regarding Leonardo with his citrine eyes aglow.

  Aglow with what, Amanda could not tell.

  Chapter 12

  Goodwill

  Leo returned from closing the salon back and front doors against the autumn chill.

  ‘Where was I?’ he asked, taking his seat again on one of the white leather chairs beside Amanda.

  ‘You were saying that your friend and business partner changed from upscale furniture designer to coastal artist.’

  ‘Ah yes. It was around that time that Donna’s relationship ended. She’d been a hairdresser for some time, and I think she was divided between keeping the domestic on the simmer and really going for the career she wanted.’

  ‘Hm,’ said Senara disapprovingly, ‘if the man had been any sort of support, she wouldn’t have had to choose.’

  ‘So Donna and I got together,’ Leo went on, ‘and I said, how about it? Go into business? She loved the idea. I did an intensive eight-month course in hairdressing, would you believe, discovered my creative side, and she found this place. It took a while for the previous owner to come to terms, finalise and wind down —’

  ‘Mr Blackaby?’

  ‘Yes. But Donna made good use of the time. She wouldn’t tell you this herself, but she went to the residential home, er …’

  ‘Pipkin Acres?’

  ‘That’s the one. She offered her services for free to the residents and staff, to cheer them up, the ones who were down, and save a bit of money for the already light of heart.’

  ‘How kind!’ Amanda was touched. ‘That must have meant a great deal to them.’

  ‘Well, that shows character,’ pronounced Senara. ‘Good woman.’

  ‘And,’ added Leo, ‘she went to the school here and offered hair and makeup classes once a week. The school just had to foot the bill for heating and lighting a classroom after hours.’

  ‘She sounds like a caring soul’ approved Perran. ‘Looking after the young and old alike,’ commented Amanda.

  ‘She’s done everything possible to create goodwill,’ Leo concluded.

  ‘Yes, she offered fifty percent off hair appointments on the dance event days,’ Amanda told him. ‘I must say, she didn’t get the response I, for one, think she deserved.’

  ‘I’d reserve judgement too,’ stated Senara, examining the hairbrush on the shelf before her.

  ‘It takes time,’ Leo said. ‘They’re not sure if she’s genuine yet, I suppose. We understand.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me, though. I’m moved by your sister’s kindness and generosity.’

  ‘She has a good heart; I’m sure of it. She might come across as a bit edgy or brittle at times or gushy. But this is all a bit nerve-wracking for her. I think she was very popular with the staff and clients where she worked. And, of course, the relationship ending was rather a blow to her confidence.’

  ‘I’d like to know what the whole story behind that is!’ Senara remarked, folding her arms across her chest.

  ‘Of course,’ Amanda agreed with Leo. ‘Well, I certainly will do all I can to make your sister feel welcome.’

  ‘Thank you, Amanda. I know she’ll appreciate it, even if she doesn’t say how much. But what about you? Have you always been a furniture restorer?’ he asked reaching onto the shelf behind him and presenting her with a dainty, white, rose-patterned Wedgwood plate, of what Amanda identified as Hotel Chocolat Foiled Hearts. These would pass muster with Tempest, who would expect her to accept them.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Amanda, picking one from the dish. ‘Yes, I’ve been very fortunate in that regard. My grandfather trained me. My grandparents brought me up, you see. They adopted me after my parents died.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Leo condoled.

  ‘Oh, don’t be,’ Amanda said at once, with a smile. ‘I don’t remember them, and Granny and Grandpa were wonderful.’

  ‘Thank you, bian,’ said Grandpa affectionately.

  ‘They’ve passed on, I take it?’ asked Leo.

  ‘Yes,’ answered Amanda, ‘but I feel there’re still with me as much as ever,’ she added with the veriest hint of gritted teeth.

  ‘So you’ve always lived in Sunken Madley?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘Would you ever move?’ Leo enquired

  ‘No, no I don’t think so. Everything I want and love is here. I have a house, a garden, a workshop, a business, good neighbours and friends.’

  ‘So …, any man who wanted a future with you, hypothetically speaking, would have to move here.’

  ‘We’ll check his bank statement,’ said Senara, ‘Make sure he’s not after your goods and chattels, dear.’

  ‘He’s going a bit fast isn’t he?’ remarked Perran. Amanda agreed.

  ‘Yes, he would,' she said discouragingly, in response to Leo’s enquiry.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean ... I’m sorry … that was far too personal a question. Please, forgive me. I’m just trying to understand what’s it like to be part of a village, that’s all, to grow up in one, live one’s life in one place. We’ve moved about so much, you see.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she said more warmly. ‘That’s something I would like to understand, but I should be going.’

  ‘Perhaps we could meet for coffee sometime. I haven’t been to the hub of the village yet.’

  ‘The Big Tease?’ asked Amanda.

  ‘That’s right. Here. Please, take my card. If you ever fancy a chat during a tea break from work, send me a text, and we can spend 15 minutes “havin’ a chin wag over a cuppa,” as I believe Joan the postlady would say.’

  Amanda laughed as she took the card.

  ‘Thank you. I will.’

  ‘And … if you ever feel like doing something different with your hair … it would be on the house.’

  ‘My hair?’ said Amanda, suddenly self-conscious.

  ‘You’ve actually got good hair.’

  ‘Mouse-brown and fly-away?’

  ‘Well, it’s not heat damaged or product damaged.’

  ‘I do prefer to do it myself.’ Amanda didn’t like the feeling of a stranger’s fingers in her hair, being so close to her.

  ‘If you change your mind. For one of the dances perhaps. Maybe for the New Year’s Eve Ball,’ suggested Leo.

  ‘Thank you. I’ll let you know. It’s very nice of you. Yes, perhaps. That dance will be a very special occasion. Well, goodbye for now. I’ll get the quote to you as soon as possib
le.’

  ‘No hurry.’

  Amanda returned to the car, remarking to Tempest, ‘He seems nice. Not show-offy or pushy or anything, and he is actually quite …’

  ‘… hot. I believe is the current vernacular,’ finished Senara, striding along beside her.

  ‘Granny! I thought you were still in the shop.’

  ‘Oh, Da Vinci’s just tidying up. Nothing to see.’

  ‘No harm in having a “cuppa with ‘im” in public,’ said Grandpa.

  ‘Yes, that’s just it,’ replied Amanda, ‘Public. By this time tomorrow …’

  ‘You underestimate our neighbours,’ countered Granny, ‘if you think it’s going to take 24 hours for the world to receive the news that you spent half an hour tête-à-tête with the new man in the village!’

  Chapter 13

  Thomas Gets a Mission

  Vera knew that her brother, Mike, was choosing his moment. She did nothing to steer the conversation in a helpful direction or drop hints. After a gourmet meal of Harry’s confecting: a twist on a 14th-century recipe for Catalan paella followed by panallets, sweet almond and potato balls.

  She did suggest to her husband that they tackle the washing up before they subsided into the alcoholic haze that an excellent Rioja was tempting them toward. Harry had been married too long to his Vera not to recognise a Sign when he saw one, eased himself out of his chair with a good-natured quip about no rest for the wicked, and ambled off to the kitchen after her.

  Mike Hogarth and Thomas Trelawney sat, wine glass in hand, gazing out at the calm Balearic Sea and sighting occasional passing ships bound for Tangier and Genoa. There was no one in whose company Trelawney felt more relaxed than his mentor and friend. Since that first day, a decade and a half ago, when the young detective constable had walked nervously into then Inspector Hogarth’s office, he knew he had found a kindred spirit and guiding light.

  As for Hogarth, there was no one whose instinct he respected more than that of his younger disciple. He recognised that Thomas tended to take a rather serious view of life, understandably a result of his father’s imprint, but that was leaved with humour that lurked beneath the deceptively grave surface, and was not always easy to discern. He did not need to advertise his sharp intelligence nor to be the smartest person in the room. Thomas’s quiet courteous manner and by-the-book approach had been the net in which many a villainous foot had been snared.

  No wonder he and Amanda inevitably bemused and somewhat frustrated one another, reflected Hogarth. Thomas was in some ways as much a mystery to her as she was to him. It was all vastly entertaining, and Hogarth was about to enjoy himself further.

  ‘Are you choosing your moment?’ asked Thomas humorously.

  ‘Yes, lad,’ laughed Hogarth.

  ‘You know you do have to tell me eventually: why you invited me out here.’

  ‘Apart from the much-missed pleasure of your company, you mean?’ Mike asked jovially.

  ‘Yours was missed just as much, I promise you,’ his protégé assured him.

  ‘Thank you. Yes, in answer to your question.’

  Trelawney waited. Hogarth put down his glass and said,

  ‘I wanted to ask you something,’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘How’s your dancing?’

  Thomas choked on a sip of wine.

  ‘My what?’ he asked, when he had recovered and put down his glass.

  ‘Your dancing.’

  ‘Why? Is Vera throwing a shindig in my honour?’

  ‘If you like,’ replied Hogarth cordially.

  ‘Thank you, but no, thank you,’ Thomas responded firmly.

  ‘You haven’t answered the question,’ Mike pursued.

  ‘My dancing? Well … it’s all right. I can … what do they say these days? Throw shapes? Or is that “so last season” now? But yes, I can acquit myself without excessive embarrassment to most things from the last four decades, I suppose. If I have to. Why? Oh and yes actually … when I was a teenager, my mother used to recruit me to partner her around the dinner-dance floor, so she taught me that formal sort of thing: waltz and foxtrot or whatever. Then she accrued a bevy of eager squires, and I managed to wriggle out of it.’

  ‘That sounds not unhopeful,’ said Hogarth encouragingly.

  ‘Hopeful for what?’ asked Thomas suspiciously.

  ‘For an undercover mission,’ stated Hogarth.

  ‘Undercover?’ queried Trelawney with interest, leaning forward. ‘Tell me more.’

  ‘I’ve had confirmation from our sole remaining witness to the day of the minibus incident —’

  ‘Miss Cadabra?’

  ‘Quite — confirmation that she is being watched,’ said Hogarth. ‘Unfortunately, the person who let slip this valuable piece of information has shuffled off this mortal coil, and his wife has departed post-haste to the Midlands. Your mission, therefore, should you choose to accept it, not that I’m offering you a choice,’ Hogarth added with a wink, ‘is to go and observe the villagers of Sunken Madley, find out who is keeping a close eye on our Miss Cadabra, and why.’

  ‘But I can’t go undercover. The village knows me.’

  ‘It knows you as “the Inspector”,’ Hogarth pointed out.

  ‘What do you suggest? I don Groucho Marx moustache and glasses?’

  ‘No,’ Mike replied succinctly. ‘You go as a student.’

  ‘Of what? Dance?’ asked Thomas incredulously.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Why would I come all the way from Cornwall for a dance class, for the love of Pete?’ Trelawney objected.

  ‘Because you’re far too occupied with your duties when in Cornwall, whereas when you pay your regular visits to your sainted mama in Crouch End, you are frequently at a loose end, and have always wanted to learn, especially well away from the mirth of your fellow police officers and staff,’ Hogarth explained reasonably.

  ‘Good heavens. But why there? There must be other dance classes closer to Crouch End.’

  ‘There are. But they lack one thing that the villagers already consider to be a magnet,’ said Hogarth.

  ‘What? Hang on! Not …?’ came the protest.

  ‘Going undercover isn’t always dressing up and assuming an alias, Thomas.’

  ‘Yes, but … well!’

  ‘Think of the mission. Take one for the team. Do it for the cause. Protect the witness, Inspector,’ Hogarth intoned solemnly.

  ‘Hmm, if you put it like that,’ conceded Trelawney reluctantly.

  ‘Oh I do, I do,’ insisted Hogarth, suppressing his amusement at his friend’s reaction.

  ‘Yes, but they’re all going to think …’

  ‘Does that matter?’ Hogarth asked blandly.

  ‘But what if Miss Cadabra thinks ...?’

  ‘Does she?’

  Trelawney paused. She’d never given any sign at all that she regarded him as anything other than, at best, a friend and, at worst, an irritant.

  ‘No,’ he conceded.

  ‘Well then. You can explain the undercover situation to her when you see her. So there need be no possibility of any misunderstanding of your intentions.’

  ‘Good,’ said Thomas shortly, less than delighted with the situation. He retrenched. ‘But why does it have to be a dance class?’

  ‘Because it’s the only community activity several of the villagers will be engaging in regularly as a group. It’s a chance to observe and interact with as many of them as possible in perfectly unexceptionable circumstances. The dancers rotate, you know; each leader dances with each follower for a few minutes before changing. Although couples can ask to stay together, but I think that would look rather singular and not suit your purpose as well.’

  ‘I agree, entirely. But, well, … are you absolutely sure that there’s nothing else the villagers do as a group? No ramblers association or bird-watching or scarecrow-building or … penny-farthing-riding … or …’

  ‘Alas no, Thomas, I am afraid the Sunken Madleyists lack the herd inst
inct. They are a very individual collection of individuals. The only other thing they do as a group is gossip. And if you win them over at the classes you may become privy to a good bit of it. Some of that might even prove useful.’

  Thomas sighed resignedly. ‘Oh very well.’

  ‘Now, it will be to your advantage if you are both a desirable partner to the followers and a source of assistance to the other leaders.’

  ‘All right,’ Thomas agreed switching to professional mode now that the inescapable was upon him.

  ‘So you need to be ahead of the game.’

  ‘How do I do that?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘Get your mother to give you a few lessons and practice with her.’

  ‘Won’t she think that odd?’

  ‘Thomas, you can tell her why.’

  ‘Yes, but this is pertaining to a … well, it’s not ...’

  ‘You can tell her that there is a potential threat to your witness,’ Hogarth replied patiently, ‘and you are charged with finding out more about it, and the dance classes are your cover story.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I can tell her that. It’s true, after all,’ said Trelawney, getting into the spirit of the thing.

  ‘All right. This weekend then.’

  Thomas nodded. ‘When do the classes begin?’

  ‘Saturday week,’ replied Hogarth.

  ‘That gives me only one weekend. Still, there’s always YouTube. I’ll ask Miss Cadabra to see if she can find out what dance we’ll be starting with. I’ll need to make sure I have the right gear … shoes and so on …’

  ‘You can go in a suit with a waistcoat and just take your jacket off. The ladies will like that.’

  ‘Good grief,’ said Thomas, reaching for his glass. ‘Now I know how a human sacrifice feels!’

  Chapter 14

  The Grapevine, and Recruiting Ruth