by Holly Bell
‘Oh,’ said Thomas. It sounded drastic.
‘He agreed,’ Penelope went on. ‘He stopped taking their calls, answering their letters … and then … when you were nine, they pressed his buttons and pulled his levers. Maybe they threatened us, who knows? But I found out that he’d been taking you there.’
‘Where?’
‘You know where, Thomas,’ she said, quietly.
‘Flamgoyne,’ he supplied.
‘Yes. I kept hoping it was a one-off. Your father would say sorry and promise that he’d never do it again. Then there was some shady business. They called on him to come late one night The next day, someone associated with the family died in inexplicable circumstances.’
‘The day of my tenth birthday,’ murmured Thomas.
‘How do you know that?’ asked his mother sharply.
‘Because I remember what you said, what you cried out to Dad that night.’
She looked at him uneasily.
‘Sorcery,’ said Thomas. ‘That was your word: sorcery.’
‘Oh … I was being dramatic,’ she insisted uncomfortably, looking down at her wine.
‘What did you really mean, Mum?’ said Thomas, employing just a shade of his policeman’s voice.
Penelope thought, tracing the rim of her glass. ‘All right. Your father’s family practised some hocus pocus. It’s probably just all psychological claptrap, NLP or whatever, but they manipulated people and circumstances.’
‘Did you ever see Dad do that?’
‘No,’ she said decidedly. ‘No, I would never have fallen in love with him, married him, if I had, Thomas. Your father was a good man. I still believe that. He’s just …. They were too strong for him.’
He took a deep breath, stepped way beyond the boundaries of his comfort zone and asked a painful question.
‘Did you ever see Dad do anything that couldn’t be explained in terms of the laws of physics or the experience of the five senses?’
She looked up at him, rattled. ‘No,’ she said shortly. ‘No.’
And here it came, the most agonising and daring question of all: ‘Or me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she responded at once, impatiently, dismissing the very idea with a quick jerk of her hand. She got up and went over to the curtains, closing them more tightly. ‘Look. It’s all nonsense. The fact is, that we did have a deal and he broke it, over and over. In the end, I had to protect you, and myself.’ She ran her hands down the folds of the drapes, then went on,
‘It was a condition of the divorce, and your residence with him, that he would not bring you into contact of any kind with any member of his family at any time. On that condition, you stayed with him during term time.’ Penelope looked back at her son, ‘I assume that he kept to that.’
‘Yes, Mum, I promise you that he did.’
‘Is that all?’ asked Penelope hopefully, fluffing up her damp hair and returning to the sofa.
Thomas felt that he had tried his mother enough, and had been lucky to have got her to part with this much information, for the first time. She was clearly intensely discomforted.
‘Yes, Mum. Thank you. Maybe I’ll sleep better now.’ He gave her a hug. She returned it affectionately.
‘Oh, I hope so, my love,’ she said, her tension melting into concern for her son. ‘I never thought all that dreadful stuff would come back to haunt you. Let’s talk about something else. How is that nice Constable Nancarrow?’
‘How do you know Nancarrow?’ Thomas asked suspiciously.
‘I had to call you that time about arrangements for your aunt’s birthday party, and your phone battery had died, so I called the station and she picked up.’
‘I see. I expect that in the space of five minutes you had learned her age, marital status, vital statistics and her hobbies,’ said Thomas wryly.
‘I took an interest, naturally. So ...?’ prompted Penelope.
‘She’s erm … in good health. Performing well,’ Thomas responded, a little at sea.
‘That’s not what I meant,’ said his mother, pointedly.
‘Oh!’ The penny dropped. ‘I see what you mean. No, no, mum, she’s not my type; far too young and anyway I’m her superior. It wouldn’t be appropriate.’
‘Well, what about that girl you keep interviewing?’
‘What girl?’ asked Thomas.
‘The one up here. The one you drive north about eight miles north to visit.’
‘Mum,’ replied Thomas, with strained calm, ‘she’s someone I see in connection with a case. And how do you know …? Oh, never mind.’
‘Well, who do you think you inherited your detecting talents from? It was a simple matter of observing your milometer. But anyway, if she’s part of a case then that won’t do. I know that much. Such a shame you and Michelle didn’t get together.’
‘Michelle I was at college with?’
‘Yes, darling,’ his mother replied happily.
‘Mum,’ he said with a sense of outrage, ‘you said you never liked her!’
‘Well, at least she was normal. Not a witness or a member of the criminal classes,’ Penelope pointed out.
Thomas sat deprived of speech. Fortunately, at that juncture, the doorbell rang.
‘Get that will you, darling.’
A minute later, Thomas brought in the pizza.
‘Now, why don’t you pour us both a nice glass of wine,’ his mother suggested, soothingly.
‘My idea entirely,’ said Thomas, with feeling, and reached for the bottle.
Hogarth had remained silent throughout Trelawney’s discourse. Thomas concluded with, ‘… I stayed overnight and came home the next day. We never said another word about it, either of us.’
Chapter 24
Curtains and Carpet
Having got to the end of his narrative, Thomas relaxed back into the Chesterfield chair opposite Hogarth’s, put his hands behind his head and breathed a sigh of relief. Yet his gaze, fixed on the ceiling, showed that his ease was less than complete.
Hogarth waited. Finally, Thomas leaned forward and reached for his tea. It had cooled to unpalatable, and he put it down at once. To give him some time, Hogarth got up and, without a word, took it out to the kitchen to make a fresh cup. A few minutes later he returned, threw a few twigs onto the small fire, put the tea in front of Thomas, and sat back down.
‘Thanks, Mike. I’d like to be able to say, “and that was that”. Only for me, it wasn’t.’
‘What is it that troubles you, Thomas?’
‘I didn’t believe her,’ he said frankly. ‘As her son, I wanted to, want to, but as …’
‘Detective Inspector Thomas Trelawney …’
‘I know that she was … I hesitate to use the word “lying” because I think it’s more a case of the fiction that she’s told herself all these years.’
‘About your father?’
‘No, actually, I don’t think she did ever see him do anything out of the ordinary. I think that he loved her so much that any … strange side of himself, that Flamgoyne side of himself, any unusual abilities that he possessed I think he did suppress that entire aspect of himself. I think that whatever he did or involved himself in, he did away from our home.’
‘Then … about you?’
‘Yes. It was the most difficult question of all for me to ask. And when I did ask her if she ever saw me do anything out of the ordinary, it wasn’t just that she was so vehement —’
‘”The lady doth protest too much”?’ suggested Hogarth.
‘Exactly, but ... it was the curtains that gave her away. It was after dark, and she’d closed them before I arrived. There was only a small gap in them, yet she got up so abruptly and jerked them tightly together. What do curtains mean? Shutting out the dark, shutting out prying eyes, creating a cosy, safe haven from the night. It was an act of denial about me, shutting out an unacceptable memory.’
‘I see why you needed ti
me to come to terms with this,’ said Mike, sympathetically.
‘Yes, I did need time. But I have come to terms with it. I’ve been dismissing it all as preposterous, but I keep dreaming of being back in that house. After all these weeks, finally, yes I can accept now that my mother did see … something … I did, could do, something. But what? I have no … magical powers! I can’t do anything out of the ordinary. And if I could, I don’t remember it. And if I don’t remember it, why don’t I remember? Was something done to me so that I wouldn’t? If so, what? When? Where? By whom? And was it just all in their imagination? Oh, I keep feeling like I want to wash my hands.’
‘You feel tainted?’
‘Yes, I suppose I do. Ridiculous as that seems, considering that it’s something that I don’t even give credence to!’
‘Thomas, throughout the history of myth, legend, tales, reports, not all magic has been evil, nor all who have gifts of that nature. In those stories, there are many kinds of magic, and many that are, and can be, used for good. Your mother said that your father is a good man. Would you agree with that?’
‘Of course.’
‘If he was left to himself, no Flamgoynes in his life, and let’s suppose, hypothetically, that he had a mystical gift, do you think that he would use it for good, or for ill?’
‘For good, certainly.’
‘Well, that’s my point. You have no reason to feel tainted.’
Thomas nodded.
‘You will remember, in time. The answers to all of your questions are in your memory. Actually, the answers to all of your and Amanda Cadabra’s questions are in the memories of you both. Look how you found the family names between you.’
‘That’s true. I do feel better now I’ve told you about it. It’s been weighing on my mind like the Rock of Gibraltar. The main thing is, that whatever it is that I could do, that’s in the past, I can’t do it now. I feel perfectly normal. I have a normal job in a normal world, thank goodness. Oh ... and a reasonably normal mother!’
Hogarth grinned.
‘Let’s eat!’ said Thomas, cheerfully.
‘I’ll heat it up.’ Hogarth went out to the kitchen.
Well done, Thomas, he thought, that was one of the most spectacular sweeping-under-the-carpet jobs it’s ever been my privilege to witness. Now, let’s see how long it stays there.
Chapter 25
First Date
Amanda was standing at the Centre reception desk, signing in. Suddenly the double doors to her left were flung open. A leggy brunette strutted out on six-inch stilettos swinging a Chanel bag.
Samantha Gibbs walked past Amanda without registering recognition. Amanda considered. Those doors led to only one place: Toby Sidiqi’s office. First Ryan, now Toby. Oh well, why not?
A few minutes later, Amanda was in his office herself.
‘No help, I’m afraid,’ said Toby regretfully, reviewing the results of the scans and blood tests. ‘Except we can rule out things like malformation or anything really nasty.’
‘OK … well, that’s good,’ said Amanda, reaching for the positive.
Toby exhaled, put his fingertips together and looked at her meditatively.
‘I’m not sure how to broach this,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I don’t know how open you are to … esoteric ideas.’
Amanda was more open to them that she was going to admit here. She’d have to feel her way through this one. ‘“There are more things in heaven and earth …’
‘… than are dreamed of in your philosophy.”’ He paused. ‘My family goes back to ancient Persia. We’ve been here for four generations, but … we have a legacy of understanding of … other possibilities of …. There are more ways than one to get sick and to get well, let's say.’
Amanda nodded warily. ‘Yes, I agree with that.’
‘Since we have no conventional evidence of a cause, I would like you to explore ... other ideas.’
‘OK,’ agreed Amanda. Toby took a list from his desk drawer and handed it to her. ‘Which of these therapists was here when you first arrived?’
Amanda looked at the sheet. ‘Well, the healer —’
‘All right. I’m going to hand you over to the healer. I’d like you to have the full set of treatments that are on the house. See what he finds. Will you do that?’
‘Yes, of course.’ What was he getting at? Amanda pondered, This was mostly an alternative medicine centre. Weren’t they ‘other possibilities’?
Toby tapped away at the computer keyboard, then started up the printer. ‘Let me just access his diary. Jack is it?’
‘I think so, yes.’
‘Jack Benner … right. You’re in luck, he’s available tomorrow, but the only slot that’s free is the early bird that no one wants: 9 o’clock? Good?’
‘Sure. That leaves the rest of the day clear for work.’
‘OK. You are now about to be his patient,’ pronounced Toby, with a congratulatory air.
‘Aren’t the complementary therapies under the wing of the clinic?’
‘We all coordinate our data but, as most complementary therapies are not approved by the mainstream body that allows us to practice as doctors in this country, we make a separation. The patient undertakes the therapy at his or her own risk. We can suggest but ….’
‘I see,’ said Amanda comfortably. ‘That’s all fine with me.’
Toby offered her a pen. ‘Sign here, please … and here …. Great. All done. Lunch?’
Amanda laughed. ‘Is that what this handover is really about?’
‘Of course,’ he replied, merrily.
The Snout and Trough was the village’s gastropub. It possessed neither the age nor status of the 400-year-old The Sinner’s Rue. Consequently, as a comparative newcomer, it was dubbed ‘The Other Pub’ by the locals. The food was excellent, and Sandra the proprietor had her eye on a Michelin star one fine day.
‘So, ... how are you liking your playroom?’ asked Amanda, roguishly.
‘Aha, my lab?’ responded Toby, enthusiastically. ‘Yes, very nice. Has all the requisite mod cons including centrifuge, CBC analyzer — just old second-hand ones but they do the job.’
‘What do they do?’ she enquired.
‘A centrifuge spins the blood around very fast to separate it out, and the — look, I tell you what, why don’t you come early for your appointment with Jack, and I can show you my machines?’
‘That sounds like a Victorian gentleman inviting a lady to see his etchings,’ commented Amanda.
‘But so much more interesting,’ countered Toby.
‘Yes, I’d like that. I must admit that I am curious. OK. Thank you.’
‘Let’s say 8.30? Not too early?’
‘I’m sure it’ll be worth it.’
‘It’s a date then,’ he said playfully.
Amanda grinned. Even with his possibly mystical background, he was far too much a flirt for any serious relationship. But he was fun, and it would be refreshing to engage in a little light dalliance with someone who understood the rules, and wouldn’t try to own or rescue her.
‘It’s a date,’ she agreed.
‘I’d have asked you to dinner tonight only I want to have a poke around beside the lab once it gets dark,’ explained Toby, brightly.
‘In the ruins?’ Amanda asked, anxiously.
‘Yes,’ he said, happily.
‘Toby do be careful.’
‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ he asked, smiling, ‘I scrape my knee? That’s all right, I’m a doctor. Oh, you’re thinking about Batman and Robin. Yes, I might get a rap over the knuckles from the CEO and the manager, but they’re not going to fire me; I’m far too good value for money.’
‘Well, if you must. There’s an old bomb shelter at the end of the ruins. You might see if you can get a look in there. And right next to the slab on which the Centre is built, is a horizontal crevice. There’s — probably there’s a bit of a cavity through there.
Maybe you can get a torch and an eye to that, and see what’s in there.’ She was about to offer to go with him, but remembered she’d given her word to Hugo that she would not.
‘Good leads. Thanks, Amanda,’ said Toby excitedly.
‘Please, take care,’ she urged him.
But Toby’s eyes were shining with enthusiasm. ‘I promise. No worrying; it’s bad for your health. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.’
They parted in the carpark with a wave and a wish from Toby,
‘Sweet dreams, fair Amanda!’
Chapter 26
The Ruins
Amanda had had a disturbed night, dreaming of the man in the 1940s suit, the village as it had once been, and then the sound of the bombs crashing.
She awoke to the unmistakable rattle and boom of the milk float, as it crossed a prominent drain cover in Orchard Row. Tempest, curled up beside her, was rousing himself at the sound. He enjoyed the milk float. The opportunities for mischief were myriad. He hopped off the bed and hurried downstairs to the cat flap.
Amanda groaned. Joe from Madley Cows Dairy called only once a week, to deliver a couple of cartons of coconut milk and half a dozen eggs. When she was lucky, Tempest slept through his arrival. Today she was not lucky. She got out of bed, pattered down the stairs, fastening her dressing-gown, and got to the door as Joe was bending to place her order on the step.
‘’Allo ‘Allo. All right, young Amanda?’ he said, straightening up.
Amanda, viewing him through sleep-blurred eyes, managed only a burble in reply.
‘’Ow’s your young man, then?‘ asked Joe, trying to peer inside the cottage and up the stairs.
‘My wha’?’ asked Amanda, bewildered.
‘That nice young doctor,’ Joe answered perkily.
‘No,’ said Amanda flatly. ‘He’s not my young man.’
‘At least he lives round here and won't be going home to Germany. Shame that didn’t work out. We all liked that Hugo.’