by Holly Bell
As the interview with Jonathan, although at Amanda’s suggestion, was also at Trelawney’s request, she was to be lent the ‘Situation Room’ partition of the library for the purpose. Amanda had explained that this would suit Jonathan best, a secluded area in the place where he felt the most comfortable.
With two steaming cups on the low table before the well-padded, mid-blue seats, she opened with,
‘First, Jonathan, I want to say I’m sorry I haven’t found the time to talk to you before now about the stacks. I know you wanted to tell me something about them. Mrs Pagely has mentioned it to me more than once.’
He gave her his mild and unconsciously but devastatingly attractive smile. ‘That’s all right. I know you’ve been busy.’
‘That’s kind of you. And now … please … would you tell me all about it?’
He looked at the tea, watching the water vapour gently rising.
‘I don’t really know where to start. And now this has happened,’ said Jonathan, troubled.
‘Perhaps if you tell me what you were going to tell me before it happened?’ Amanda suggested gently.
Jonathan nodded his handsome head.
‘All right. Well, you know that day?’
‘The day I felt uncomfortable, while you were copying the maps for me?’
‘Yes, and it made you asthmatic. Well … it’s always felt odd down there, as I told you. But it’s more than that. It’s as though it has a sort of … personality. It doesn’t seem to mind me. Doesn’t seem to mind Mrs Pagely, but she seems to sense something about it, and never goes down there if she can ask me to instead.’
‘That’s interesting, Jonathan. A personality?’
‘Yes, with likes and dislikes and,’ he lowered his voice, ‘a sort of mind of its own.’
‘Regarding who is welcome?’
‘Yes … but not just that.’ He lapsed into bemused silence.
‘What else?’ Amanda prompted softly.
He looked at her and nodded again.
‘About the books.’
‘What about them exactly?
‘About what books are down there,’ Jonathan replied.
‘You mean it chooses …? No, I don’t quite understand. Can you explain it to me, please?’
‘Well … books appear and disappear. Books appear that I’m sure I’ve never seen before, never catalogued, or Mrs Pagely either. And then there are others that simply disappear and then, sometimes, later, are found somewhere else down there entirely.’
‘Misshelved?’ suggested Amanda.
‘Not just that, but in storage boxes or inside a ring binder. Places they’ve no business to be,’ Jonathan explained intently.
Amanda sat back. ‘That is odd,’ she agreed.
‘But there’s more,’ continued Jonathan earnestly, encouraged by her curiosity and acceptance of his narrative.
‘Oh?’
‘And this is the strangest thing of all …’
‘Please tell me, Jonathan.’
‘You’ll think I’m …’
‘I won’t. I guarantee,’ Amanda promised.
‘Well, there have been times when …’
‘Yes?
‘You know that bit of open space? Where the A3 copier with the table and chairs are? Between there and the ends of the aisles?’
‘I do.’
‘I could have sworn I’ve … seen things in precisely that place.’
‘I believe you,’ Amanda assured him. She knew all about ‘seeing things.’ ‘What sort of things, Jonathan?’
‘Like a sort of hole, an entrance in the chalk that’s deep underneath the ground, and …’
‘Yes?’
‘There’s a drain there but it’s odd,’
‘What?’
‘It isn’t connected to anything. There’s no pipe to take away the water,’ said Jonathan earnestly.
‘Just ground underneath it?’
‘There must be. And …’
‘And?’
‘And then I’ve had dreams … I fell asleep down there once. I’d been reading very late the night before, and I was in the stacks cataloguing, and I just dropped off. It’s not the sort of thing I do. But I remember feeling sort of woozy and then I had a —’
‘You had a dream?’
‘Yes,’ Jonathan replied eagerly. ‘I was going down the hole in the floor into a cave, down steps cut into the chalk. And there was a vast network of tunnels and rooms, cave rooms, and it was all strangely spacious. And some were watery, some were sunken, and there was one huge vault, like a cathedral, where there was a figure. A woman, I think, in long robes, and a couple of other people who seemed like acolytes or servants.’
‘Interesting. Do you know who the she was?’
‘No, but she must have been very important. She had a sort of throne, a great seat in the stone. And there was a narrow pool beside her. It seemed to steam or emit some kind of vapour. I can’t be sure which. Suddenly, she looked straight at me … like she saw into my soul.’ Jonathan’s eyes widened. ‘It was so alarming that I woke up. I got up into the library, shut the place up and got into the fresh air as soon as I could.’ His face became pensive. ‘It was the strangest thing. I had this feeling that she was all-knowing. And she looked up at the ceiling of the cave as though she knew who I was and where I was from.’
‘Good gracious! What an extraordinary dream. What did you make of it, Jonathan?’
‘I didn’t know what to make of it. But I’d swear it was absolutely real.’
‘Have you had experiences like that before?’ Amanda enquired carefully. She’d always wondered if there was more to Jonathan than met the eye.
‘Not on that sort of scale!’
But Amanda had. She knew of overlapping time zones, where the present could give way to the past, in locations that seemed perfectly ordinary.
‘Well, let’s see. Shall we try and unpack this?’ She knew that that would appeal to the scholar in Jonathan. He nodded with relief. ‘First of all, were there chalk caves here in the past?’ Amanda asked.
Jonathan, distressed from his disturbing recollection, gathered his wits. This was the sort of question he could handle.
‘There is chalk here. We’re at the edge of Hertfordshire. Chalk has been mined for thousands of years. It’s possible it was mined here too, and that would account for the caves. They might even still be there, I suppose. Or I was just having a vision of the past.’
Amanda sidestepped that one. ‘Good. Thousands of years is a big scope, though, so let’s try and narrow down the time period. You mentioned that the woman wore robes? Could you get a date range from that?’
Jonathan picked up his cup and took a sip of tea as though for inspiration.
‘Well, let me see … she had a long, belted dress, I think. Very long, onto the floor around her. It could have been white. Over the top was a cloak, but like a monarch would wear. It was trimmed, lined with … with fur, I’d say.’
‘Any jewellery?’
‘Yes! A necklace.’
‘And the belt?’ asked Amanda.
‘Erm … woven metal … filigree … and jewelled,’ replied Jonathan. ‘I’m not sure what metal but the necklace was gold, I’d say. It was a twisted, thick necklace that looked like a torc.’
‘And her hair?’
‘Complicated plaits and a headdress that reminded me of a bird.’
‘Sounds like a mixture of periods,’ Amanda mused.
‘Yes, iron-age Celt and medieval fashion, and very high status,’ replied Jonathan, who was something of a history buff.
‘Around the 11th century?’ she suggested.
‘Perhaps. Only … I had the sense that the woman was … far older.’
‘Hm. You used the word “acolytes” for her attendants,’ recalled Amanda.
‘Did I? Yes. So perhaps she was a priestess of some kind.’
‘Aha, like …?’
‘Delphi!’
‘An oracle?’ suggested Jonathan excitedly
‘Why not?’
‘Is it possible there was an oracle here once?’ speculated Jonathan. ‘Deep below?’
‘Surely possible.’
‘Was I having a past life experience?’ he pondered tentatively.
‘I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe you were an acolyte?’ Amanda hazarded.
‘Or a supplicant,’ wondered Jonathan.
‘No,’ responded Amanda thoughtfully. ‘I think more likely you were a member of her court or whatever, and that’s why she accepts your presence there.’
‘I suppose that would fit. Do you think it’s possible she communicates through the books?’
‘That would explain the way they come and go, Jonathan.’
‘Maybe she wanted to communicate with Samantha?’
‘Hm,’ Amanda demurred. ‘Doesn’t seem likely. I wouldn’t have called Samantha intuitive. But what if Samantha was there for her own purposes and the priestess or whatever didn’t like it?’
‘Could the Oracle have caused the shelf to fall on Samantha?’ asked Jonathan wide-eyed.
‘Maybe. We both felt the tremor, didn’t we?’ responded Amanda. ‘But only we two.’
‘What does it all mean?’ Jonathan asked.
‘I don’t know. But if she is an oracle, she’ll have the answers.’
‘Oh Amanda, I would never risk falling asleep in the stacks again. I wouldn’t want to dream of going down into that cave ever again. I had the strongest feeling that, whoever she is, she is an extremely dangerous woman.’
But, thought Amanda, if we in Sunken Madley are to continue using the library and she considers it part of her domain, somehow we have to connect with this Oracle. Not just for answers but to make some sort of peace with her that guarantees the safety of the village.
‘Please don’t ask me, Amanda,’ Jonathan beseeched her agitatedly.
‘Of course not, Jonathan,’ she soothed him. ‘There may be another way. The police have all sorts of perfectly normal avenues to pursue, for the most pressing matter of finding if a human was responsible for Samantha’s death. Nevertheless … as a last resort …’ she pondered, then added on a postive note ‘But let us hope that it does not come to that.’
Chapter 25
Confidential Informant
Trelawney had barely arrived back at Parhayle police station, when a text came through.
Inspector, just landed. Thank you for getting the news to me. Can see you as soon as you like. Do feel free to bring Amanda. She was so helpful on the last case. Damian Gibbs
***
‘I don’t know,’ said Thomas restively to his best friend, Mike, as they sat in the warmth of Hogarth’s Cornish cottage sitting-room. ‘This text … Miss Cadabra must be the least sociable person in the entire village. Locks herself away in that sorcerer’s den of hers she calls her workshop. Only emerges to get food for herself and that deeply unpleasant animal, and to go to clients. And yet everyone seems to think the sun shines out her eyes.’
Hogarth grinned appreciatively.
‘Bothers you, does it?’
Trelawney had to laugh. ‘All right, all right. You did say the Cadabras would get under my skin. I know that Miss Cadabra is … her neighbours have every reason to be … fond of her. It’s just that I don’t like people think— I don’t like feeling as though I can’t do my job without her!’
‘Of course, you can, lad. No one, including your father, has any doubt whatsoever regarding your capabilities. It’s just that, at times, Amanda can facilitate matters. Oil the wheels. And you know, Thomas, a good policeman accepts help that comes his way, the lucky breaks. It is good judgement. It is generosity of spirit.’
‘Hm. Really? I suppose … Like someone on the inside, a confidential informant.’
‘Just so. Speaking of which. You meet with the person tomorrow morning, don’t you? Your “well-wisher”?’
‘Yes, it should be … interesting.’
***
Trelawney arrived at the Cosy Coast Café ten minutes early, took a corner seat with an eye line to the door, ordered tea and waited. He checked his watch: 9.55am.
Just two minutes before the hour, he abruptly ducked. Dash it! Gran Flossie was coming in. He pretended to be tying his shoe. She was heading for the counter now. Hoping, while her back was turned, that he could slip out the back way or at least into the gents, Trelawney prepared to make a dash.
But she headed straight for his table.
‘Awright there, Tom, me ’andsome, having trouble with your laces?’
He sat up. ‘Hello, Gran.’
‘You’re wearing loafers, slip-ons, love.’
‘Sorry Gran, it’s just that I’m meeting —’
‘Me.’
‘Sorry?
‘You’re meeting me. I sent the letter.’
‘Oh? Why?’
‘I’ve got information as I don’t want the rest of the family to know. Even a wife, mum, grandmum and fisherwoman is entitled to her privacy.’
‘Of course.’
‘Now let me just get my cuppa, Tom, and I’ll be with you dreckly.’
‘Let me, Gran.’
‘No, no, you sit there, me luvver. Be right back.’
Trelawney composed himself, while Flossie went to the counter, ordered and collected her tea and returned to the table. She took her time making herself comfortable and adding her two sugars. He waited until he saw signs that Flossie was ready, looking up, resting her muscular forearms on the table.
‘So …?’ Thomas invited her.
‘Yes, I did see his, car, that Hedrok Flamgoyne’s.’
‘What’s wrong with that? I mean, why would that be private information, Gran?’
She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. ‘It was how I came to see it!’
‘Ah,’ responded Thomas to this, as yet unexplained significance.
‘You see, Tom, I was with someone that day.’ She paused so portentously that his mind leapt to a conclusion and reeled.
‘Gran, surely you weren’t having an aff—?’
‘Don’t be so soft in the ’ead!’ Flossie reproved him. ‘No. I was on a mission.’
‘Right.’
‘Your great-uncle, Wella. It’s a long time ago, and water under the bridge and no one needs to know about this, you understand? I’m a … C.I., right?’
‘Confidential Informant?’ he checked.
‘That’s it. Do we have an understanding, Tom?’ Flossie asked firmly.
Those were clearly her terms. ‘Yes, Gran. Please fire away.’
Flossie stirred her tea.
‘It’s a family skeleton.’
‘I see.’ Thomas had yet to, but was confident that a hitherto hidden cupboard was about to be opened to him.
‘Wella, he was going through some sort of midlife crisis,’ explained Flossie, ‘got in with the wrong crowd. A flash lot. Then one day, he asks me to meet him here in town ‘cause he was needin’ my help. The silly chump had only been in the casino – you know, The Parhayle Palace — and kept losin’, of course. They wanted him to pay up and he couldn’t.’
‘I had no idea,’ marvelled Thomas.
‘Well, he’d kept it secret. He was that scared his family would find out and think him the fool he was. It’s one thing to get mixed up in that sort of thing when you a teenager, but when you’re 50, people expect you know better.’
‘I understand. So, you helped Great-uncle Wella?’
‘I’d got a bit of income from my artwork. I kept it up. Your granddad made me promise I would when we got married. It wasn’t a fortune Wella owed, but quite a bit back then and more than he could pay. So I said I’d settle his debts, on one condition.’
‘Which was?’
>
‘He got help, counsellin’. There and then. Twice a week for as long as it took.’
‘And did he?’ asked Thomas.
‘He wasn’t keen. Said he was a man and could beat it by himself, but I stood firm. I got on the phone to my friend, whose daughter is a counsellor at Dr Martin’s. She moved an appointment special so she could see Wella right away, and I went to the clinic with ’im. And I sat in the waitin’ room.’
Flossie paused and took a cautious sip of her hot tea. Trelawney was sure that the meat of the story was about to be served.
‘Now, Tom, I don’t suppose you’d know the inside of that place, but the side window at Dr Martin’s looks out onto a little sort of service road.’
‘Slipper Way?’
‘Zackly, it’s the only place you could have seen it from.’
‘It?’
‘What I see that day. There it was: the car. Hedrok Flamgoyne’s. He was parkin’. He must have come round by the coast road to avoid goin’ through the town. Well, I had nothin’ else to do while I waited for your great-uncle in with the counsellor, and was just idly watchin’ Flamgoyne in ‘is car.’
‘Yes, I see.’
‘Then a woman come from the other end of Slipper Way. I remembered her. She had this hair like there was sunshine in it and a black raincoat on and a hat that couldn’t hide all that hair.’
‘Did you know her?’ asked Trelawney.
‘Not personally, but being an artist, I’d always noticed her hair.’
‘Her name?’
‘I’ve been trying to remember … Elizabeth … I’m pretty sure I’m right about that. Elizabeth … and her surname … a Cornish word. Stret? Street? Hyns … path …. road, no …. Perhaps it’ll come back to me.’
‘All right, Gran, you’re doing very well. What did the woman do?’
‘She got into the car. She and Flamgoyne started talkin’ and then he looked around and saw me watchin’. He sort of froze, I saw his lips move and a flash of somethin’ in his hand and then I don’t remember any more ... I sat and read a newspaper. The counsellor and Wella came out. We all arranged for more sessions. And we left. Drink your tea while it’s hot, Tom.’