Amanda Cadabra and The Flawless Plan

by Holly Bell

  ‘Perhaps,’ she said noncommittally.

  Chapter 31

  Festive Spirit

  ‘Hello,’ said The Reverend Waygood brightly, entering from the vestry in splendid robes of red and green.

  ‘Rector, this —’ began Amanda.

  ‘Oh yes, Inspector Trelawney,’ said Jane shaking him warmly by the hand. ‘How very kind of you to join us.’

  ‘My pleasure, Rector. Miss Cadabra has just been explaining the origins of the Feast.’

  ‘Wonderful, isn’t it?’ remarked Jane happily. ‘Probably total fiddle-faddle, but I fell in love with the story at first sight, I promise you. Did Amanda tell you about The Appel Songe?’

  ‘Er, no … is it some kind of hymn?’

  ‘Not one that you’ll find in any book. It was discovered in the bowels of our very odd library stacks, written in medieval English, although we sing a modern version, together with a melody composed by one of the rectors in the sixteenth century or whatever, to what he claimed were the original verses. Fortunately, we have an able pianist in our midst who has kindly learned to play the organ in her spare time. Ah Neeta, here you are.’

  ‘Hello, Inspector,’ called the newcomer recognising Trelawney.

  ‘Hello, Dr Patel.’

  Amanda and Trelawney left them to their pre-service conference.

  ‘Is Sunken Madley listed in the Domesday Book?’ asked Trelawney.

  ‘No, but the priory is listed in Holy Houses of Hertfordshire by Nonius written 1171, only 31 years later, so we’re pretty much up there with the longest pedigree villages.'

  The congregation was filing in, one or two in high spirits, one or two in other spirits, having made a start on the cider, every one with smiles and anticipation of the entertainments to come. They were all, including Amanda and Trelawney, chatting away so merrily that they failed to notice the sight that now confronted the rector who stopped abruptly half-way up the pulpit steps.

  Tempest had seated himself upon the lectern and, with benevolent satisfaction, was gazing down upon, what he regarded as, his worshipers,. His witch’s first hint of the incursion was an urgent whisper from Jane, who had rapidly descended the stairs.

  ‘Amanda!’

  She looked up to see the rector’s finger pointing upwards. Amanda gasped, rose guiltily and hurriedly mounted the pulpit, gathered her unrepentant feline in her arms, and, blushing, returned to her pew. Some of the congregation were consumed by fits of giggles.

  ‘Honestly!’ Amanda addressed him quietly but emphatically. ‘You are the limit!’ Tempest wriggled himself into the space between his human and the end of the pew, forcing her and Trelawney to move up. There he sat, regarding the rector with interest, as though he had written her speech himself.

  The guffaws and chortles died away and the service began. Sure enough, the rector told the tale, and the audience rose to sing The Appel Songe. To Trelawney’s ears it was startlingly pagan, with praise for the spirits of the apple trees, the apples, the apple blossoms, the apple peel and the apple pips, the sun, rain, drizzle, wind, mist and fog, earth, earthworms and a species of bird of which Trelawney had never heard. Then came the final rousing chorus,

  Our foes will ever flee in fear

  When Ap-pel spirits do appear

  To lend a hand and find a way

  To save us as they did that day.

  The Orchards rare

  They are still there;

  Praise Ursula and the li-ttel bear!

  They all applauded loudly and strolled back out and through the rectory, collecting delicacies, some still singing. Trelawney and Amanda waited in their seats for the traffic to abate.

  ‘So, am I to have the delight of tasting your cooking?’ he asked gallantly.

  ‘Nope,’ said Amanda definitely. ‘I am excused on the grounds that I made something else. Something more enduring than apple turnover.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes. That.’ She pointed to the altar. On it was wooden casket filled with apples. It was the apples that drew the eye, bright rose red and shiny green. But Trelawney went up to examine their container. It had an appealing rusticity to it and was carved with oak leaves and apples, apple blossom, and here and there, a bird.

  ‘You did this?’ he asked in wonder.

  ‘I did. With my own fair hand-tools. Old school.’ She had too. Back in the days when Perran had insisted she learn the ways of the old non-magical crafters.

  ‘You astound me,’ said Trelawney. ‘This is extraordinary.’

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Amanda, with a smile and a flush of pleasure at his unexpected praise.

  ‘Certainly, no apple pie needed,’ he confirmed.

  ‘Shall we go and find Jim’s? That’s Joan’s husband. He makes the best apple pies, and I want to make sure that you have the best!’

  ‘Thank you for the tipoff. Yes, let’s go.’

  It seemed that the whole village was out in force. Both Alexander and Julian from The Big Tease tea and coffee shop, Sandra and Vanessa from the Snout and Trough, in fact, everyone who couldn’t get staff from outside Sunken Madley had, apparently, shut up shop for the day. All of the dance class members were there. Tempest was hanging around the pork and apple stew pot. Someone was sensibly putting some onto a plate for him. Amanda saw Esta Reiser chatting to Erik, her solicitor. Their teenage offspring, as far away from their parents as they could get, were in animated conclave, no doubt about tactics in Medieval Melée. Leo was there, by the apple fritters. Amanda was looking around for his sister, when she felt her phone vibrate. It was a text.

  Hi Amanda, I can’t get hold of Leo and don’t want to spoil his first festival. I wonder could you be an angel and pick up the crystal and plate for the after-dance party? No one else I know has a boot big enough and I have to keep an appointment with a major, very exacting client. If you could pop round? I’ll load you up. 5 mins tops promise. Love Donna x

  ‘Inspector,’ said Amanda, looking up, ‘is it OK if I leave you for five minutes? Just have a little errand to run.’

  ‘Of course,’ he answered readily.

  ‘Joan?’ Amanda called out.

  ‘Dear?’ said the postlady, appearing.

  ‘Could you take the Inspector to Jim’s pies for me? I just have to pop off for five minutes.’

  ‘Oo yes, you leave him with me,’ said Joan heartily. ‘Can’t promise I’ll let you have ‘im back though, love!’ she added with a wink, taking Trelawney’s arm. He grinned down at her.

  Amanda slid into the Astra and drove the 20 or so yards to outside the salon. Donna was coming out with a crate in her arms. Amanda hastily went to the boot to make space.

  ‘You are a life-saver!’ exclaimed Donna. ‘You can have a free appointment any time you like!’

  ‘Not at all,’ replied Amanda smiling.

  ‘No, I mean it. We’ll do your hair for the Christmas ball. How about that? And New Year!’ insisted Donna.

  ‘That’s very kind, but I really don’t mind.’

  ‘Wait here, I’ll get the next lot.’

  ‘Can I help?’ Amanda offered.

  ‘No no, I’m fine …’

  The boot filled up, crate after crate with carefully packed glasses and fine china.

  ‘This is most generous,’ remarked Amanda, admiring the quality of the crystal and flatware.

  ‘Oh, the salon I was at before used to give evening parties with champagne and caviar. When they revamped their image, they got all new plate and crystal and said I could take this lot.’

  ‘It looks expensive. Are you sure …?’

  ‘Nothing but the best for the Feast. Look, the church hall will be opening at 6 o’clock to prep for the dance class, that’s when I was supposed to deliver this lot. Just go in through the front door of the hall. Here’s the key, but if you wait until six, they’ll be there to help you carry it in. Put it on the table just inside the door, and that’ll be good enough. Take it slowly, getting it from the car, if they’re not there yet
, don’t want to bring on your asthma.’

  Amanda, silently agreeing, said, ‘That’s OK, I’ll wait until six, if that’s when they’re expecting them.

  ‘That’s great. Just wish I could be there.’

  ‘Next time,’ said Amanda consolingly.

  ‘Exactly. Must rush. Thanks a million. You’re a star!’

  Amanda drove to the church car park slowly, not wanting to cause any breakages. She found the inspector and kept an eye on the time, as she and Trelawney mingled with the feasters until it was time for the procession.

  ‘Procession?’ he queried, looking around for floats and a band.

  ‘It’s not really a procession,’ Amanda modified. ‘It’s just a ramble to The Orchard.’

  ‘Your orchard?’

  ‘Yes, well, just The Orchard. I don’t actually own it!’

  ‘Should I take my, er, whatever this drink is?’

  ‘No, there’ll be more food and drink there, I assure you.’ The air was cooling with the setting sun. ‘There’ll be hot apple juice, and cider mead.’

  ‘Cider mead? That’s a new one on me. Maybe I should get out more.’

  ‘It is on most people,’ Amanda replied reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, you can take a sip and still be legal to drive home, but I’d stay away from Mrs Kemp’s apple gin if I were you. Oh and Mr Seedwell senior’s apple dumplings. Really. On no account touch them, however inviting they may look. Lethal!’

  As they passed Amanda’s house, Trelawney noticed some of the revellers had left a rose or a daisy on the wall. He wondered if it had anything to do with the old story of the sunken maidee.

  Some of the villagers were still singing The Appel Songe.

  ‘I don’t recognise those words to the tune we sang in the church,’ Trelawney remarked to Amanda.

  ‘Those are extra verses. We only sing four of them at the service.’

  ‘How many are there?’

  ‘Forty-one,’ replied Amanda.

  ‘My word. You villagers really do love your orchards!’ he said. She giggled.

  Among the trees, were well-lit tables laid with goodies and steaming pots of fragrant liquid on battery-operated heaters. For the first time, he noticed the village children. They were helping themselves to ladles full of the aromatic drink. Trelawney pointed to it in consternation.

  ‘Is that stuff alcoholic?’

  ‘Yes, why?’

  ‘The children are drinking it!’

  ‘Yes,’ said Amanda matter-of-factly. She glanced at Trelawney’s alarmed expression and suppressed her mirth. ‘It’s ok, it’s not a school day tomorrow, and I promise they won’t be driving this evening. Especially not the ones whose legs are too short for their feet to touch the pedals.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant!’

  ‘This is what we folk do in the country, moi good sir. I started on this brew when I were just four year old,’ said Amanda in a credible Hertfordshire accent.

  ‘Good grief. That explains a lot!’ replied Trelawney with a chuckle.

  Amanda saw Leo, and thought she understood why Donna had not wanted to disturb his enjoyment of the day. Some children had drawn him into ring-a-ring-a-roses around three of the apple trees, and his face was alight with joy. This was a taste of the life he’d said he wanted. He seemed so genuine. Surely he couldn’t be here in the pay of the Flamgoynes to spy on her, … could he?

  Chapter 32

  Delivery

  At a quarter to six, Amanda excused herself, this time leaving Trelawney with Sarah and Vanessa. She made her way, at a gentle pace, to the church, and moved the car to half on the pavement at the side of Trotters Bottom, closer to the hall. Taking out one of the crates of glasses, she walked between the trees, around the south side of the building to the front, put the container down and opened up.

  The hall was in darkness. However, enough streetlight filtered through for her to see that there was no table by the door where she could put her crate down. She lowered it to the floor. Amanda went back to the car to get the next load. It was on the return from her last trip that the stage-end light flickered on, and a female voice called towards her,

  ‘Donna?’

  ‘Amanda. Donna couldn’t make it.’

  ‘Oh, Amanda! Stay there. Here let me take that! They told me about your asthma and exertion.’ Majolica bustled across the floor. But, about 10 yards from Amanda, she seemed to lose her footing. Amanda’s eye was caught by a movement up on the ceiling; legs penetrated the plaster, then something was rapidly coming down. She stepped back as it plummeted. Her eye followed it down to see the floor collapse, as if made of rice paper, under Majolica’s weight. The woman gave a shriek as she disappeared arms flailing. All at once, her cry was abruptly cut off. In the silence, Amanda stood rooted to the spot. She looked at the floorboards, uncertain as to which she could trust. Tempest appeared from the shadows.

  ‘You here?’ she said, her voice shaking a little. Her familiar came to her side and nodded towards her feet. Amanda sank to her knees. He stepped forward, testing each piece of the floor before he allowed her to shuffle towards the hole, until she could peer down into the darkness below. She could see nothing. Amanda fished in her pocket and pulled out her pencil wand. It had a stronger and more controllable beam than her phone app.

  Amanda directed it downwards. With a quick indrawn breath, she sat back. The wand had illuminated the startled features of Majolica Woodberry, lying on Mr Giddins’ collections of anvils, with the point of a stage spear rising out of her shirt.

  There was a brief, nervous giggle from above. Amanda looked up. The ceiling showed damage. But it was too high above to see clearly. She stayed stock-still, listening … for what seemed an age …. But there was nothing more to be heard.

  Amanda returned her attention to the matter of the deceased below. She reminded herself that being the person who finds the body never looks good. She had to get down there and look for evidence of what might have happened. Floors didn’t give way by themselves, and this one shouldn’t have. ‘I have to get into the cellar, Tempest,’ Amanda whispered.

  She went back to near the door and then sidled around the hall to the stage end. ‘Agertyn,’ she said softly to the door leading to the cellar. It popped, and witch and familiar entered. She repeated the spell to the door at the bottom of the stairs, and then picked her way through the dusty, cloth-covered props and stored goods between herself and Majolica’s deadly couch.

  Amanda tried not to look at Mrs Woodberry. Instead, she searched for the supports. They were no longer in place. Rather, they lay in sections on the floor, scattered, the screws in the brackets twisted in situ. Could they really have bent under so little a weight as Majolica’s? Amanda picked up one of the floorboards that had fallen through. But it was board no longer. It was little more than a thin veneer. She examined it. It was wet on the underside. Amanda picked up another fragment. She felt her hands burning and dropped the fragile wood. Her fingers tips were red. She grabbed the corner of a cotton sheet and scrubbed at them. The dust gathered on it flew up and made her cough.

  ‘Feels like acid,’ she wheezed to Tempest, who was peering at the debris from the collapse above.

  She touched the other thinned boards, but they were just damp. The one telltale piece she wrapped carefully in a tissue and put in her pocket. It might be significant. More importantly, it might be incriminating of whoever had been at work here.

  Amanda’s lungs were stinging from the dust. She flicked her wand-light over the body. Reluctantly, she felt for a pulse, but the open, vacant eyes told their own tale. Here and there, lay flakes of paint and bits of ceiling plasterboard, but no great weight that could have smashed the floor. Tempest also seemed to have completed his inspection.

  ‘Let’s get back up and sound the alarm,’ Amanda murmured. As quickly as she could, with Tempest lagging behind for some reason, she got them back up and locked the doors behind them with the spell ‘Luxera’. She called Trelawney first.
/>   ‘Miss Cadabra?’

  ‘Inspector, please come to the church hall at once. There’s been a fatal accident. Can you call Sergeant Baker or should I dial 999?’

  ‘I’ll take care of it. Do you need an ambulance?’

  ‘No. It’s too late for that.’

  Amanda returned to the front of the hall and sat on the step. It occurred to her that she and Tempest would have left footprints, if not finger and pawprints.

  Within three minutes, Trelawney was there. Amanda stood up.

  ‘It’s Mrs Woodberry. She fell through the floor and is dead. Please be very careful.’ She led him by Tempest’s route to the safe kneeling place. The inspector shone his torch down there and confirmed that Majolica was beyond medical help.

  ‘We’ll need the keys to the cellar,’ said Trelawney.

  ‘I guess the rector would have them. Shall I phone her?’ offered Amanda.

  ‘If you would. Let’s get outside. We don’t want to contaminate the crime scene. If crime there was.’

  Amanda spoke to the rector, then turned to Trelawney. ‘I think it had to be. A crime, I mean. I saw the supports myself in place. The floor was safe. Although, I saw something fall from above that might have caused it to cave in. Except I couldn’t see any blocks of masonry. Did you, just now?’

  Trelawney shook his head. ‘Are you all right? Bit of a shock, I’d think. You’re coughing,’ he observed with concern. ‘Is it the asthma?’

  ‘Stress reaction, I suppose. Yes, it was rather a shock,’ Amanda admitted.

  ‘Quite understandable. Well done keeping your head and making the call,’ he commended her.

  The sound of sirens came through the night air. Two police cars pulled up and an ambulance. Sergeant Baker approached.