Amanda Cadabra and The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr

by Holly Bell

  Sir Philip rose and put a hand on his son’s arm.

  ‘You can always come in. At any time. If it gets too dangerous or you miss home too much, you know.’

  ‘I know, Dad. Thank you’.

  ‘Whatever you decide and whenever, I’ll be proud of you. I said that to your mother. She said I should tell you that.’

  ‘Thank you, father.’

  ‘All right .... Said goodbye to y’mother?’ he asked again, the only evidence of the emotional perturbation at dispatching his youngest into the unknown.

  Cal smiled. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your Aunt Gigi ... she’s told you the drill?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well then ....’ Sir Philip managed a hug followed by a hearty clap on Cal’s shoulder. ‘Good man.’ He nodded. ‘Good man.’

  Cal knew his father wanted to tell him that he thought his son was a good man. It wouldn’t have sounded like much praise to outsiders, but it meant a great deal to Cal. It was the standard to which he held himself thereafter. In the dilemmas that were to face him over the years, that would be the question Michael would ask himself: what would a good man do?

  He left the room and closed the door behind him, looking back briefly at the plaque on the door: 14. In the passage, he encountered a lady in her middle years, diminutive and gentle of air. She had been waiting for him. Aunt Gigi, whose height Cal had overshot in his fifteenth year, had been an agent for one of the more prestigious departments, until a certain incident which had consigned her, likewise, to the basement. Her proximity and kindliness had soon won her the honorary title of Aunt to the Rayke children.

  ‘There you are, my dear. You said yes, you were set on this course?’

  ‘I did.’

  She nodded.

  ‘How did the old gentleman take it?’

  ‘Torn between fear for my future safety and pride that I’d accepted, I think.’

  ‘As expected. So, farewells said?’ she asked Cal.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘All right. Now. Remember: try not to contact me unless it’s absolutely necessary.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘And Cal, don’t push against what is bad. But just be for what is good. Don’t let anyone turn this into your war. Always look towards peace, as is your father’s way, and you’ll find the path.’

  ‘Yes, Aunt Gigi.’

  ‘I don’t know how long they’ll let this department operate. The funding gets less every year. We have our opponents, shall we say, but we have one or two friends too .... Well, dear boy ... you know where to get in touch with me. Take care of yourself. Promise?’

  ‘Promise.’

  They hugged. A parting smile. The last for who knew how long. They walked off in opposite directions, their feet echoing in the passage. He would miss her comforting presence. But adventure, and great work, beckoned.

  ***

  Amanda sniffed, then discreetly blew her nose, at this point in the story.

  Hogarth smiled kindly.

  ‘It’s all right, my dear. We did meet again.’

  ‘Oh good. So what happened next?’

  ‘I thoroughly enjoyed uni, as we’d call it these days. I was subtle, or so I hoped, about approaching those who might be key to intelligence in the future. Hard to tell at that age. On graduating, I entered police college. My posting was a forgone conclusion: Parhayle. First, on the beat, then detective ranks: constable, sergeant, then an early promotion to inspector. I had quite a large area to cover, but they must have considered that, given my comparative youth and assumed vitality, I could handle the long hours and travelling.

  ‘Over the years there were rumours, a number of accidental deaths where you’d expect them, but some unexplained events and sightings. And then things went quiet. There were whispers. More rumours, conversations behind hands and that fell silent when I would appear. I had occasion to interview a member or two of the Flamgoynes and Cardiubarns. They were gracious but guarded. But the whispers .…’

  Amanda felt how the mood in the room had changed. She was aware of the wind sighing in the chimney, high and low, the rattle of a window, a loose tile above. Hogarth’s face had grown grave as he spoke the last words of his tale for that evening.

  ‘They were whispers of children. Children going missing.’

  Chapter 10

  Pasco, and Amanda Meets Nancarrow

  Over the final cup of tea, Hogarth asked,

  ‘What do you have planned for tomorrow, Amanda?’

  ‘I’m — Oh, I’d entirely forgotten to mention my little adventure.’ She related the circumstances in which she had made her new acquaintance in Parhayle.

  Trelawney looked at her with a frown at the sound of the name.

  ‘Pasco?’

  ‘Yes, I know there’s a Pasco Flamgoyne, but there must be lots of Pascos in Cornwall, and he seemed like a good person. We had a rare old chat in Cornish. He’s going to practice with me again on Friday afternoon,’ Amanda added enthusiastically.

  Trelawney was unsettled, but Hogarth responded easily,

  ‘Good to know you’ve made a friend.’

  The next morning, Trelawney called into the station just before 9 o’clock.

  ‘Nancarrow,’ he said to his constable. ‘I’d like you to find all of the Pascos over 70 years of age, say, living in and around Parhayle.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she replied readily.

  He was due to pick up Amanda for breakfast at 10 o’clock. At 9.05 he sent a text and got the reply:

  Sure. Door’s open

  Minutes later, Trelawney was at his destination.

  ‘Up here!’ came Mike’s voice from above. The inspector climbed the stairs to find his friend up a ladder, painting the bathroom ceiling. Mike descended with a grin and a face speckled with white emulsion. ‘Something urgent?’

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, but I just wanted a word in private about this … Pasco. What if it is?’

  ‘Pasco Flamgoyne? Let it run its course. Perhaps it is intended that they should meet.’

  ‘Do you think he knows who she is?’

  ‘Amanda is a pretty average name, and Parhayle has its fair share of visitors. I wonder if he’d have accepted tea and cake from her if he’d known she was of Cardiubarn stock. But then, who’s to say? Too soon for concern, lad.’

  ‘All right then.’

  Trelawney arrived at Amanda’s on time and asked whether she had any preference for a breakfast venue.

  ‘Yes, I do, if it’s not too far,’ she answered promptly, fetching Tempest’s blanket.

  ‘Not sure we can manage a drive to Land’s End, but within reason,’ the inspector responded amiably.

  ‘It’s a place where your dad took me yesterday.’

  ‘Ah. They do a full Cornish do they?’

  ‘Better!’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Scones and jam with dairy-free clotted cream!’ Amanda announced in triumph.

  ‘Well ... er ... so you want a cream tea for ... breakfast?’ Trelawney asked her sceptically.

  ‘Yes, please,’ she replied brightly.

  He was somewhat taken aback but rallied gallantly.

  ‘Your wish is my command, Miss Cadabra. I take it this hostelry is to be found in proximity to the Moor?’

  ‘Yes, it’s called the Twisting Current, and it’s near St Cleer, just 20 minutes away. See?’ Amanda showed the inspector her phone with Google Maps on display.

  ‘Very well. You have convinced me.’

  Amanda gathered up Tempest.

  ‘I see we are to be accompanied,’ commented the inspector, registering what he regarded as the malevolent grey heap of fur.

  ‘We both uttered the C word,’ Amanda explained.

  ‘Cream?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  His phone dinged a text.

  ‘Excuse me .... Ah, is it all right if we drop in at the station? Ten minutes tops.’

  ‘Of course. As long as you like.’

  Prese
ntly he drove into the car park with its distinctive oak tree. Amanda had spotted it on her distance viewing of the station with Kyt. The new, bright green leaves were so small at this time of year that it looked bare until a closer inspection.

  ‘Shall I wait here?’ offered Amanda.

  ‘No, no come in. Nancarrow will look after you,’ Trelawney replied with assurance.

  He ushered her in.

  ‘Nancarrow, this is Miss Cadabra, Miss Cadabra, Detective Constable Nancarrow. Would you mind keeping Miss Cadabra company while I see what Harris needs?’ With that he disappeared into the inner sanctum, where his sergeant was awaiting him.

  ‘Of course, sir,’ she called after him, a little doubtfully, regarding the face behind the name. For she had feared Miss Cadabra was a rival for her boss’s affections.

  However, Amanda, blissfully unaware of any such undercurrent, advanced with a warm smile and outstretched hand.

  ‘I’m honoured. I have heard so much about the eternally efficient and indispensable Constable Nancarrow.’

  This earned a blush and a hesitant welcome as they shook hands.

  ‘Hello, Miss Cadabra, nice to meet you. I understand you and the inspector will be working together.’

  ‘Well, I’ll do my best. I know he’ll have to be back here often, and there’s no way that I can fill your shoes. I expect he’ll be on the phone to you whenever he needs research he can’t do himself.’

  Nancarrow was rapidly thawing.

  ‘I won’t mind that, really.’

  Amanda enquired with interest, ‘Even though it’s Sunken Madley rather than Parhayle business. Will that be all right?’

  ‘Of course.’

  They chatted amiably about the similarities and differences between their places of residence until Nancarrow said hesitantly,

  ‘You will look after him, won’t you?’

  Amanda finally detected more concern for the inspector’s well-being than the purely professional, and said again gently, ‘I’ll do my best, I promise.’

  ‘He likes shortcake.’

  ‘Does he have a favourite brand?’

  ‘Well ....’

  Trelawney emerged from his office to find Amanda and Nancarrow perched side-by-side on a desk, heads together over a small screen.

  He hid his relief at finding two of the women in his life in such accord, by enquiring of the air,

  ‘What is it with girls and their phones?’

  Two pairs of eyes instantly looked up at him with such affront at his rampantly provoking remark, that he grinned, apologised and whisked Amanda out of the door before a word of reproach could be uttered.

  ‘Really!’ said Amanda, back in the car.

  ‘What were you looking at? Dating site profiles?’ he asked teasingly.

  ‘Confectionary suppliers,’ she replied repressively, then smiled. ‘Biscuits.’

  ‘Ah, I thoroughly approve. Now: breakfast.’

  ‘You have time?’

  ‘I do. Let us depart with all speed.’

  ‘Within the legal limit, naturally,’ Amanda replied playfully.

  ‘I don’t think our journey is of sufficient urgency to warrant the siren. Or are you that hungry?’

  ‘Hmm ... I can wait.’

  I shouldn’t have to, thought Tempest, stretching his legs out on the back seat, but I shall humour them on this occasion.

  Chapter 11

  Fire — Inspector Hogarth Investigates

  ‘How was your day?’ Hogarth asked from the kitchen, where he was cleaning a set of scrapers. There were patches of Polyfilla on the hall and kitchen walls, and all of the paintings had been taken down.

  ‘Wonderful, thank you, Uncle Mike,’ replied Amanda, as they joined him by the sink. ‘The inspector very kindly took me for cream teas and to see the Golitha Falls: spectacular!’

  ‘Rather like the sight of someone who could down two cream teas in one day,’ remarked Trelawney, on a note of awe.

  ‘Will you still be wanting dinner?’ asked their host, teasingly.

  ‘Oh yes, please, Uncle Mike,’ came the eager response. ‘I haven’t eaten since lunchtime.’

  ‘Miss Cadabra managed one for breakfast and another for lunch.’

  Hogarth looked at her with exaggerated sympathy.

  ‘Of course she did. Poor Amanda has been living a life of Cornish-cream-tea-deprivation Up North.’

  Trelawney laughed.

  ‘I must admit I hadn’t looked at it that way. Miss Cadabra, I shall take you back there again, as soon as possible!’

  ‘Were you up there all day?’ asked Hogarth.

  ‘No, the inspector went back to the station and I spent the afternoon reading some books on Bodmin. The inspector very kindly leant me his library card.’

  Hogarth stopped cleaning his tools and stared in mock astonishment.

  ‘Did I hear that correctly? He lent you his library card?’ He looked at Thomas. ‘Well, if that isn’t a declaration of true love, I don’t know what is. Shall I send out the wedding invitations?’

  Amanda giggled and Trelawney grinned.

  ‘I’ve already returned it,’ she affirmed.

  ‘Well, have you learned anything of interest?’ asked Mike.

  ‘I have to admit that I fell asleep within an hour.’

  ‘All those scones had nothing to do with it,’ Trelawney remarked airily.

  ‘I did learn that it’s made of granite and its Cornish name is Goon Brenn, which I think means “high moor”. That first appears in a document or something from the twelfth century. The Jamaica Inn of the title of Daphne Du Maurier’s novel is a clearly a must-see and I can’t get enough of the tales of pyskies. I’ve seen fairies but not with red hair and dressed in grass. Anyway, the point is that there’s lot of granite lying about up there. The stones I found just before I had that vision, could, I suppose, have been natural.’

  ‘But you said they looked shaped?’ queried Trelawney.

  ‘They did. Perhaps I should have looked for a book on granite.’

  With pudding and tea served, and Tempest on a cushion, wedged warmly between Amanda’s thigh and the inside of her armchair, Hogarth looked at his company and enquired,

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘Very much so, Uncle Mike. The last thing you said was that there were whispers of children going missing. I couldn’t believe you stopped there, by the way!’

  Hogarth chuckled. Then his face became serious. He nodded.

  ‘Yes. At first just children. Then whole families .... No one was talking. I caught on only from conversations that stopped suddenly when I approached.

  ‘I asked Mamm James, my kindly landlady.

  “No one’s sayin’ anythin’, as you’re practically one o’ mine, Mihal,” she said, giving me the Cornish version of my name, as she’d done from the beginning. However, between the two of us, we assembled this much of the mutterings: The Moor. Gone in the night. Packed up. Boats. School. House.

  ‘Strictly speaking, it was outside my bailiwick, which was the coast east and west of Parhayle, going north, but stopping short of the Moor. However, I made what investigation I could.

  ‘I looked into the number of families moving out of the area: it was disproportionate. If I managed to track them down, they always had a perfectly ordinary explanation: a new job, moving closer to relatives, better schools. But none of it rang true. Still the doors were shut to me.

  ‘The Bodmin police said it was all apparently aboveboard.

  “And you don’t mess with the Moor clans, if you can help it. The school has the paperwork and passed the inspections. It appears to be charitable, a private school that serves the local families. Yes, sometimes one or two of the children get sick, but all kids get sick, don’t they?”

  “What about all these accidents among the Moor clans,’ I asked. ‘Death by misadventure? Rather a lot, aren’t there?”

  “Yes, but no evidence to the contrary,” was the reply. I asked, what about other suspicious events,
up there?

  “Yes, there have been a few but no witnesses,” they insisted. “Ever. Not a peep. Not a dicky bird. Sorry.”

  ‘Uncle Mike. Wait,’ Amanda interrupted him. ‘Where was this school?’

  ‘It was in a rather grand house near the north shore of Dozmary Pool,’ Hogarth replied.

  ‘You mean there was a third clan up there?’

  ‘Indeed,’ he confirmed.

  ‘With a big house?’ Amanda asked with growing intensity.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But ... but where did it and they go? There’s nothing up there now.’

  Hogarth smiled a little and looked at her out of the corners of his eyes.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Well — the inspector took me up there too — there are only the two: Cardiubarn Hall and Flamgoyne. Except ... well ... those stones ....’

  Hogarth’s face was a mask of patient interest. He waited.

  ‘Sorry, Uncle Mike. Please continue.’

  ‘And so it went on … until the night of the fire. No one knew how it started. Growan House went up in flames. Casualties yes, but all the children got out. No one knew how. They disappeared and family members too. After that … no more school. Most, if not all, of the family who owned it died in the fire. Anyway, the house was left. Somehow the land passed to the Cardiubarns and Flamgoynes. What was left of the building was, er, salvaged by farmers and so forth. The fire, the school, the families were forgotten. And so it remained.’

  ‘So, there was a fire. And those stones: the remains of Growan House — growan is Cornish for granite!’

  ‘Yes. All that is left of the house of the Dowrkampyers. The fire brigade said they’d been alerted far too late to save anything or anyone. Lord Dowrkampyer was missing. Bodies were found in the fire of the rest of the family. No children were found. All of the remains were identified, except for that of Lord Dowrkampyer himself.’

  ‘Dowrkampyer? I’ve never heard that name before,’ marvelled Trelawney.

  ‘Nor I,’ agreed Amanda. ‘A witch-clan?’