Amanda Cadabra and The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr
Page 1
Other books by Holly Bell
Amanda Cadabra and The Hidey-Hole Truth (The Amanda Cadabra Cozy Paranormal Mysteries Book 1)
Amanda Cadabra and The Cellar of Secrets (The Amanda Cadabra Cozy Paranormal Mysteries Book 2)
Amanda Cadabra and The Flawless Plan (The Amanda Cadabra Cozy Paranormal Mysteries Book 3)
Amanda Cadabra and The Rise of Sunken Madley (The Amanda Cadabra Cozy Paranormal Mysteries Book 4)
Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths (The Amanda Cadabra Cozy Paranormal Mysteries Book 5)
Other books published by Heypressto
50 Feel-better Films
50 Feel-better Songs: from Film and TV
25 Feel-better Free Downloads
Copyright © Holly Bell (2021). All rights reserved.
http://www.amandacadabra.com
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, people or places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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To Anton, Tamara and Chris
You never tire of the moor.
You cannot think the wonderful secrets
which it contains,
It is so vast, and so barren, and so mysterious.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1: The Road to Kernow
Chapter 2: What’s The Story
Chapter 3: About A Boy, and The Fall
Chapter 4: Parhayle
Chapter 5: Cal’s Proposal
Chapter 6: Amanda Makes a New Acquaintance
Chapter 7: Sir Philip’s Answer
Chapter 8: Vision on The Moor
Chapter 9: Farewells, and Installation
Chapter 10: Pasco, and Amanda Meets Nancarrow
Chapter 11: Fire — Inspector Hogarth Investigates
Chapter 12: The Lead, and The Oath
Chapter 13: The House of Lucy
Chapter 14: Return to the House of Lucy
Chapter 15: A Tale of Three Houses
Chapter 16: Hidden Extras
Chapter 17: Restless Night
Chapter 18: Money and Magic
Chapter 19: Over the Wall
Chapter 20: Crimson Lake
Chapter 21: The Missing Piece
Chapter 22: The End of the Line
Chapter 23: On the Stairs
Chapter 24: Feeling the Way
Chapter 25: Understanding Lucy
Chapter 26: Proposal
Chapter 27: Answer, and a New Puzzle
Chapter 28: The Unusual Suspects, and the Shore at Dawn
Chapter 29: Caught in the Act
Chapter 30: Chief Inspector Hogarth Investigates: Marielle and Zoe
Chapter 31: Chief Inspector Hogarth Investigates: Geoffrey, Elodie and Peter
Chapter 32: Between Friends
Chapter 33: The Trelawneys
Chapter 34: What Amanda Saw
Chapter 35: The One Who Told the Truth
Chapter 36: Flamgoyne
Chapter 37: Looking for Answers
Chapter 38: Flossie and Amanda on Bodmin
Chapter 39: The Missing Pieces
Chapter 40: Hogarth’s Plan
Chapter 41: Into the Past
Chapter 42: The Only Way
Chapter 43: Gearing Up
Chapter 44: Into the Fire
Chapter 45: The Wand of Agacine Flamgoyne
Chapter 46: Homecoming
Chapter 47: Whatever Happened To …?
Chapter 48: The Contracts
Chapter 49: Flamgoyne and Cardiubarn
Chapter 50: Revelation
Chapter 51: One More For The Road
Chapter 52: Sunken Madley
Chapter 53: Department 14
Chapter 54: M, Q, and Kindly Advice
Chapter 55: Visitors
Chapter 56: A Gift for Thomas
Chapter 57: Another Revelation, and Questions
Author’s Note
About the Author
Acknowledgements
About the Language
DID you know?
The Cornish Language
Questions for Reading Clubs
Glossary of British English
Accents and Wicc’yeth
Introduction
Please note that to enhance the reader’s experience of Amanda's world, this British-set story, by a British author, uses British English spelling, vocabulary, grammar and usage, and includes local and foreign accents, dialects and a magical language that vary from different versions of English as it is written and spoken in other parts of our wonderful, diverse world.
For your reading pleasure, there is a glossary of British English usage and vocabulary at the end of the book, followed by a note about accents and the magical language, Wicc’yeth.
Amanda Cadabra and The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr
Holly Bell
Chapter 1
The Road to Kernow
‘The pretty mist,’ the old woman’s voice echoed in Amanda’s mind. It was hard to see through the fog that was now brown, now purple, now mustard yellow … sickly sweet. She stretched out her little three-year-old hand. Suddenly it was dark. She was outside on the Moor. Amanda knew it by the scents. But not entirely dark. Smoke was boiling up into the night. A building was aflame and then … a blinding flash.
With a gasp, Amanda woke up. Calm but concerned tones came from her right, asking,
‘Are you all right, Miss Cadabra?’
‘Er ....’ The sound of the familiar Ford Mondeo’s engine purred comfortingly. She looked with relief at the motorway, its green embankments flying by, and then turned her head. There was the pleasant face of Detective Inspector Thomas Trelawney of the Devon and Cornwall Police, at the wheel beside her. Amanda pushed her long mouse brown hair off her face and exhaled. ‘Yes, yes, thank you. I’m fine.’
‘Bad dream?’
‘Yes ... except ....’
‘Do you want to tell me? It might help.’
‘Thank you. I wonder ... I’m afraid I do have a tendency to fall asleep on long car journeys,’ Amanda admitted apologetically.
‘So I gather,’ said Trelawney with a smile, and a quick glance at her from hazel eyes, which then looked straight back at the road ahead. ‘That’s why I always make sure we’re equipped with a cushion.’
‘And most kind of you it is.’
‘My pleasure. Well? What was the “except ...”?’ he prompted.
‘I was back in that dungeon-crypt place at Cardiubarn Hall with my homicidal forebears. That day of the spell.’
‘When you were three? The spell designed to cause your asthma?’
‘That’s the one,’ confirmed Amanda. ‘And then suddenly I was on the Moor at night.’
‘Bodmin?’
‘Yes, and it was pitch dark, but then it wasn’t because there was smoke. And then I saw a building on fire and a bright, bright light.’
Trelawney raised his eyebrows.
‘That sounds startling. No wonder you woke up.’
‘Yes, and I’m wondering if it’s been set off by where we’re going. Maybe I’m picking up something?’
‘Could be. Although, we don’t yet know anything about this story about Lucy that Mike’s going to tell u
s.’
‘True.’ Amanda looked over her shoulder at Tempest.
The furry heap of storm greys was enthroned on a tiger-print velvet blanket, citrine stare aglitter. Nearing the Tamar River, the ancient border between Kernow, the land of Cornwall, and the rest of Britain, Amanda’s feline familiar was on proximity alert.
The yellow of his eyes was echoed by the golden flecks in Amanda’s own blue gaze: flecks that expanded into islands, then continents, of brown around her pupils, when in the presence of magic. It was a tell she went to some lengths to conceal with glasses when necessary. It was easy enough in her furniture restoration workshop, where she wore close work lenses anyway. But that cosy retreat was getting further and further away, as they crossed the miles from her beloved village of Sunken Madley, sitting snugly amidst the trees near the Hertfordshire border.
‘How close are we to the crossing?’ Amanda asked.
‘Only a few miles.’
Long ago, Granny and Grandpa had made her promise never to cross the River without them. Although they were in vulgar parlance ‘dead’, they made sure to visit from the plane of existence they now inhabited, whenever Amanda had need of their counsel or company.
Consequently, Senara Cadabra, née Cardiubarn, could now be observed seated bolt upright on the back seat, tucking a hairpin more tightly into her white victory roll. She and Perran Cadabra, a tall, grey-haired, mild-mannered man, were flanking Tempest. Granny and Tempest were pointedly ignoring one another, as they did whenever possible. He had still never forgiven Senara, in particular, for dragging him into reincarnation on that long malodorous night when Amanda was fifteen. Perran had had just as much to do with it, but Tempest considered Senara to be the instigator, and that was that.
Amanda smiled at them, then opened the window a little. Her heightened senses detected the aroma of Dartmoor to the right, the north, the sight and sound of gulls in the distance, and the tang of the sea from The Channel to the south. Trelawney slowed down with the change in speed limit, well in advance of the crossing, opening his own window and letting the fresh air ruffle his suitably short, light brown hair.
Before them, it reared up, the towering verticals of the Tamar Bridge suspended across the expanse between Plymouth to the east and Saltash to the west. There was the sign:
Kernow a’gas dynergh – Welcome to Cornwall.
They were across. There was a ripple in the ether. Amanda Cadabra had returned to the home shores of her birth. Whoever was left of the Cardiubarn and Flamgoyne witch-clans felt it, knew it, and stirred uneasily.
Only a few miles south of the A38, which they now travelled, was a smaller road, a road with a treacherous bend. Amanda had been adopted by her loving grandparents after the assassination of the rest of her extremely unpleasant family, the Cardiubarns. They had met their end in a minibus that had crashed on the Cornish rocks beneath the sharp curve in the road. It was that unsolved multiple murder that had brought the inspector into the lives of the Cadabras. The case was only very recently resolved.
Now he and Amanda were on their way to see Former Chief Inspector Hogarth, Trelawney’s mentor and friend and her honorary uncle. Because it was time. Time to hear it:
Lucy’s story.
Chapter 2
What’s The Story?
On the western edge of the town of Parhayle, the coast road narrowed into a lane. Trelawney parked at the last of three modest bungalows nestled behind a hedgerow.
‘Ah, home,’ said Amanda, who had stayed in Gwel an Donn before.
'View of the waves, yes?’ asked Trelawney, whose Cornish had some way to go towards being as good as Amanda's.
‘Pretty much, although waves plural would be tonnow”. The point is the cottage does have a lovely gwel — view — of the sea. Please, thank your father for letting me use it again.’
Once inside, Tempest promptly located the warmest spot in the sitting-room, the most comfortable chair in the entire cottage, and the deepest pillow in the bedroom. The contents of the fridge and cupboards were clearly felt to be wanting, until Amanda fulfilled her role of devoted attendant. She duly unloaded her small cool bag of gravadlax, and put the cans of Ortiz Bonito Del Norte tuna and the packet of Marks and Spencer’s roast chicken on the shelves. Kyt Trelawney, the inspector’s father and owner of a thriving holiday cottage business, had thoughtfully provided coconut milk, knowing that dairy was no friend to Amanda’s asthma.
While she was unpacking her suitcase in the larger of the two bedrooms, Trelawney, in the sitting-room, received a call. Shortly, he joined her with the news.
‘That was your Uncle Mike.’
‘Oh? Everything all right?’
‘There’s been a development — unspecified — and he’s going to be busy during each day. He said we’re to come for dinner every evening.’
‘Ah. Ok. Yes, of course.’ Amanda was a little dismayed by the abrupt change in plan. However, she saw that the bright side was that the inspector would have more time to finish up immediate tasks in Parhayle. He was being reassigned to Sunken Madley, where she was about to be employed as his consultant. ‘Well, it does mean you can attend to things at the station.’
‘There’s nothing that I can’t postpone,’
‘When is the last time you had a holiday?’ Amanda enquired teasingly, having a reasonably accurate idea of the answer. Trelawney laughed.
‘Fair point, but I’m sure I could as easily ask you the same question!'
‘True,’ Amanda agreed.
‘However, yes, I’m still on call for Parhayle, plus I do have some things to finish up before I move.’
‘Oh, Mr Branscombe apologised again for not being able to start on your flat at The Elms straight away.’
Trelawney was clearly relaxed about it. ‘There really is no hurry, please assure him.’
‘I will.’ Amanda put the last of her shoes on the floor of the wardrobe, closed her empty case, and looked up. ‘I have to admit to some impatience. It’s been a week since Lucy gave me that message.’
‘It was Lucy?’
‘She called herself that. She said, "my story, Lucy’s story.”’
‘And you didn't see her face?' asked Trelawney.
‘No, she was in deep shadow down there in the crypt. I just saw a lot of pale wavy hair and a dark form my height, and heard a child's voice.’
‘That's all?'
‘Yes. But Uncle Mike must have mentioned something about her to you during all the years you've known him, worked with him?’
‘I've been racking my brains, but no. Nothing.’
Amanda mused. ‘She said it was “time”. Time to tell it — her story. Why now, I wonder? And now we’re so close to finding out. It does seem a bit hard to have to wait even a few more hours.’
Trelawney smiled understandingly.
‘Well, we must let Mike tell this in his own way and in his own time.’ He stashed her case on the top of the wardrobe.
‘Yes, I do feel that it is highly privileged information.’
He frowned. ‘And somehow personal.’
‘Do you know much about Uncle Mike personally? You’ve been friends for some time.’
Trelawney shook his head. ‘Not really. I know about his sister and brother-in-law in Spain, of course, and visited them. I know Mike has some Cornish antecedents, but I think he was born in London. He’s never said much besides that, and I haven't wanted to pry.'
‘Hm, of course.'
‘I'll make some tea, shall I?' he offered.
‘Please. I'll just go and freshen up.'
Thereafter, Trelawney accompanied Amanda on a windy visit to say hello to the sea, while Tempest said hello to the bed. As they looked out on the waves, Trelawney asked,
‘In your dream in the car on the way here, the building you saw on fire, was it Cardiubarn Hall?’
Amanda had seen that imposing edifice only once since her early childhood.
‘No, I'm pretty certain it wasn't, not that there was that m
uch to see what with the fire and smoke.’
‘Was it Flamgoyne?’ he enquired. It was the estate of his father's family, Thomas's undesirable connection to the notorious witch-clan and rival of the Cardiubarns.
Amanda considered. ‘I ... I'm not sure I'd know.’
‘All right, how about if I drive you up there? We have time, and there's plenty of daylight.’
'Yes. Yes, why not?'
They returned to the cottage, where Amanda looked in on her familiar.
'Coming?’ she asked.
Tempest sighed and roused himself for the arduous journey from quilt to travel blanket on the back seat of the Ford.
They took the road north from Parhayle, past Liskeard to the east and the Golitha Falls to the west. Climbing up to the expanse of Bodmin Moor — Goon Brenn in the Cornish tongue — they drove parallel to the waters of the River Fowey, flowing down to the coastal town of that name. Clouds scudded across the sky, from pale to gun-metal grey, threatening rain. At last, Trelawney took a track west. Presently he stopped the car.