Amanda Cadabra and The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr

by Holly Bell

  ‘I’d like that.’

  ‘It’s the stretch of beach where I like to run as often as I can, especially when I need to think. Dazzling at sunrise. The colours on the sand at the edge of the tide. The fleet going out. Oh ....’ he stopped in consternation.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Well ... the fleet.’

  Amanda made a shrewd guess.

  ‘Oh, your family’s boats will be there too?’

  ‘Yes. The Trelawneys en masse don’t know you’re here,’ Trelawney explained.

  ‘How come? Hasn’t word got round?’ asked Amanda the village girl, in surprise.

  ‘This isn’t Sunken Madley.’

  ‘Your father hasn’t told them then?’ She knew how these things worked.

  ‘No, he’s left that to me and you ... if you wish but ....’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Amanda responded sympathetically, ‘they’ll be sending out the wedding invitations.’

  Trelawney laughed. ‘A bit more subtle than that. But I can head them off if I see them first, and explain the new job and our status as colleagues and friends. I hope.’

  ‘Of course: colleagues and friends. I’m sure they must be used to you having those.’

  ‘Meanwhile, we’ll position ourselves circumspectly on the shore.’

  ‘Good thinking,’ Amanda approved.

  She finished her tea and sighed contentedly. ‘I’m fine now. Really.’

  ‘Could you sleep?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Just knock on the wall if you need me.’

  ‘Thank you. Thank you for waking me and staying here, and I’ll thank Uncle Mike for thinking of it. I’m usually very good. I mean, I’m used to being by myself even with bad dreams,’ she offered apologetically.

  ‘These are exceptional circumstances,’ Trelawney replied fairly.

  ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Come on, back to bed then. We can wash up these cups in the morning. I’ll see to the fire and the heating.’

  ‘Thank you. Good night, Inspector.’

  ‘Good night, Miss Cadabra. Sleep well.’

  Chapter 18

  Money and Magic

  A lie-in, beach and sofa day seemed in order. Hogarth’s story and the subsequent nightmare had shaken Amanda more than she had admitted. It was windy outside. Somehow it helped, until her ears got cold and she retreated to the cottage sitting-room. But Amanda was restless, getting up to make tea or go and stare at the sea, inconveniencing Tempest who was trying to get a decent afternoon’s sleep in on her lap.

  It was only to be expected that, with Amanda less than her usual buoyant self, there would be visitors.

  ‘Now then, bian,’ said Grandpa comfortingly, appearing beside her on the sofa, holding a mug of tea, and calling her by his pet name for her: Cornish for baby. ‘No need to get yourself all het up.’

  ‘Oh, Grandpa, I’m glad you’re here. It’s all so confusing. I can’t see how I am to do what Uncle Mike seems to want.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re supposed to see yet. That’s the whole point of a story. Each bit makes you want to know the next.’

  ‘Michael Hogarth can’t help himself. It’s the suppressed thespian in him,’ declared Granny, sitting opposite, with a china cup and saucer.

  ‘Hello, Granny. Do you know what this story is all about?’

  ‘No, Ammee dear, your grandfather and I had departed Cornwall some time before these events.’

  ‘You never mentioned the Dowrkampyers, though.’

  ‘No reason to: an insignificant little upstart tribe,’ replied Senara, brushing a speck of dust from her shoulder.

  Actually, reflected Amanda, Granny hadn’t mentioned anything about anything in Cornwall. Apart from telling her not to go there without her grandparents.

  ‘It’s like this, flower,’ Grandpa began. ‘Remember when you were learning how to use that new blowtorch? And I told you to read through the instructions, and you kept saying you knew what to do?’

  Amanda smiled. ‘I remember, but you were right to insist.’

  ‘So think of this tale as the instructions. Once you get right to the end, you’ll know what to do next.’

  ‘All right, Grandpa.’

  He was silent for a moment, stirring his tea.

  ‘Except ... one thing I will say, Ammee ....’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I don’t think this is a thinking thing. I think it’s a feeling thing. I mean you’ll have to feel your way to the next step or stage opening up to you. It’s not like a game of chess.’

  ‘Oh. I think I see what you mean.’

  ‘So going over and over it, is to no purpose,’ stated Granny firmly. ‘You don’t have all of the data, but you are beginning to feel for the people involved. A good start. Now. Put on a nice film, have a gingernut and a nap, and you’ll be ready for this evening. And breathe.’

  Amanda took a deep inhalation, and much of her usual calm returned.

  ‘Yes, Granny.’

  ‘Better now?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Be all right on your own, bian?’

  She smiled. ‘Perfectly. I’m going to take your advice.’

  ‘Splendid,’ replied Granny. ‘We’ll be off then: afternoon tea with Josephine.’

  ‘Josephine?’

  ‘Baker, dear. She has some interesting ideas about the phylogeny of the cheetah.’

  Having pronounced this non sequitur, she and Grandpa promptly vanished back to their current plane of existence.

  After they had left, Amanda did indeed manage to sleep, pinned down by Tempest draped across her waist, snoring softly.

  By pudding that evening, she was alert and ready for the next download of data from Uncle Mike.

  ‘I was curious about Growan House,’ said Hogarth. ‘In particular, where the resources came from. So, I asked Elodie …’

  ***

  ‘How was the school funded?’ he asked. ‘There would have been teachers’ salaries, heating and lighting costs, accommodation, classroom facilities. Considering they were providing education free of charge.’

  ‘As I said, I was brought up to make myself useful and be unobtrusive. I undertook little tasks such as bringing the post up to the office in the mornings and taking letters to the post box, putting up posters, carrying messages — a sort of gopher. There’s a lot you can see through an envelope. And people who feel secure tend to leave things lying around. There wasn’t always someone in the office when I'd bring up the letters.’

  ‘So you found out how they were getting the money?’

  ‘Donations. Most of the parents didn’t have much, so they handed over family treasures. Nothing of great value in the main, I think, but somehow it was like an act of tribute that bound them to the Dowrkampyers. But there were company donations too.’

  ‘Really? To start a school?’

  ‘Oh, you’d be amazed,’ said Marielle, ‘what people will give to be associated with a title, like Lord, however spurious. Like moths to a flame,’ she added with a teasing smile. There was something about the way her lips moved around the word ‘moths’ that distracted Mike, to the point that he almost responded that she would know all about that. His professional self intervened, but Marielle had been watching him, and now commented with a winning twinkle,

  ‘Well done, Chief Inspector.’

  Hogarth found himself unable to resist the beginning of grin before Elodie made her presence known with a little cough. She looked like she had been observing this little exchange with patience, even a hint of amusement. Still, she was serious again as she took up her thread.

  ‘Also, parents were encouraged to get employers to donate. Sponsorship to get their company name on the literature: newsletters and programmes for plays and fêtes, sports days and musical evenings.’

  ‘Growan House had all that then?’

  ‘Oh yes, everything you’d expect from a school. It was just that for some students there were extras. Extras that came at a cost, some
times a terrible one. At first, no one said anything to me, but I’d hear words. I’m pretty sure they were Cornish. The family would speak the language between themselves, when they wanted to be sure no one would know what they were saying. At first, I’d just thought it was like pas devant les enfants.’

  ‘Not in front of the children.’

  ‘Exactly. But I kept hearing certain words over and over. I wrote them down.’

  ***

  ‘This, my dear listeners, interested me intensely, as you might imagine,’ said Hogarth.

  ‘Do you have the list?’ asked Amanda excitedly. ‘May we see?’

  Hogarth produced it and placed it on the table. A total of fourteen words and phrases. Amanda and Trelawney leaned over it.

  ‘Kevrin. That means secret,’ translated Amanda.

  ‘Gans rach. That's careful?’ asked Trelawney.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I don’t know what these next three mean.’

  ‘Dorgel ... cellar, basement, vault? Arbrovji is laboratory. Hus is easy: that’s a spell. But this: effeyth aral ... maybe, side effect.’

  ‘Klav – that’s sick,’ said Thomas, ‘Gorfen is finish. Over to you Miss Cadabra, for the next few.’

  ‘Mernansow is deaths. Peryl is danger and assaya arta is try again. Hwithrans means research, but this is surely ....’

  ‘A name. “Gronetta?” Look, the next word is “Flamgoyne”. Who else could it be but Gronetta Flamgoyne? Erstwhile matriarch of the witch-clan.’

  ‘And finally, “Cardiubarn”. Easy enough.’

  ‘Just so.’ Trelawney looked up at Hogarth. ‘Sounds like something nasty was going on in the cellar.’

  ‘So,’ put in Amanda, ‘at that time, these Cornish words were all Elodie had to go on. Please continue with the story, Uncle Mike.’

  ***

  ‘At first, it was just what I picked up from the office, but then there was more,’ related Elodie. ‘I’m quiet, so people talk to me. I’m good at listening. All my life people of all ages have confided in me, often saying, “I’ve never told anyone else this but …” And it wasn’t just that. As I told you, the students couldn’t even be real friends with one another. You got sort of extra points if you reported someone for saying something against the school or the Dowrkampyers. And sometimes it’s so much easier to tell things to a stranger anyway. It was partly desperation and maybe not wanting to put those close to them in a difficult position, I don’t know, but ….’

  ‘I understand. So …?’

  ‘So the children — the élite of Growan House — the ones who got sick, they started to tell me. What was held out to them and the risks involved. They even had some sort of parental consent. They were all as keen as mustard. I don’t think a single lamb went unwillingly to the ... into the programme.’

  ‘What were they promised?’ asked Hogarth.

  ‘That’s where the Dowrkampyers were careful and clever. They promised nothing. Just suggested what might be possible.’

  ‘What was it that "might be possible"?’

  Elodie said it reluctantly, unsure if he would believe her.

  ‘Magical powers.’

  Hogarth nodded to show his acceptance of this part of the tale.

  ‘Of what kind?’

  ‘Many kinds. But the ... procedures designed to endow these abilities misfired or had no effect.’

  ‘Can you give me an example, please, Elodie? I’m not sure that I understand.’

  ‘All right. Invisibility: the spells produced eczema. X-ray vision: eye problems. Suddenly the student that had been experimented on, who could see perfectly well, needed glasses and eyedrops. Divinations, prophecy. Those spells brought on headaches and migraines. Then there was strength. Super strength. That was more serious. The enchantments caused heart issues, blood pressure and what were just put down to "growing pains". You want more?’

  ‘Were there more?’

  ‘Yes, Chief Inspector.’

  ‘Go on then, please.’

  Elodie looked at him doubtfully.

  ‘They might sound far-fetched.’

  ‘Even so.’

  ‘All right. Flying. The charms caused brittle bones and fear of heights. The power to breathe underwater resulted in asthma and bronchitis. Then the one the Dowrkampyers seemed to crave, above all, to conjure: levitation. But it just caused dizziness, nausea and disorientation.’

  ‘But the students got better when the spells were paused?’

  Elodie shook her head.

  ‘Two or three parents took their children out after the accident. Of course, they said it was an accident.’

  Hogarth diplomatically refrained from pursuing it, leaving that line of enquiry for another time. Instead, he asked, ‘Do you remember who, which parents of which children withdrew their offspring from the school?’

  ‘Erm ....’

  ‘The parents of Steve James,’ supplied Peter, ‘Lauren Brown, and I think, a boy with the surname Harvey.’

  ‘Ah yes, I interviewed the Browns and the Jameses. They just said they found schools that they felt were more suitable.’

  ‘Just local schools, I think?’ suggested Peter.

  ‘Yes,’ Hogarth confirmed. ‘They claimed they were more convenient. I couldn’t get anything more from them.’

  ‘It was well-known in that place: you don’t cross the clans. Not if you know what’s good for you. You don’t get caught in their crossfire.’

  ‘Or their cross-hairs,’ added Marielle.

  ‘Yes, I see,’ responded Hogarth. ‘So, I gather there was a lab in the cellar the élite students were taken to. Did the children tell you about the lab itself?’

  ‘Yes,’ Elodie answered. ‘But later, I saw it for myself.’

  ‘You were selected and taken down there?’ asked Hogarth with concern.

  ‘No.’

  Hogarth waited.

  Finally, Elodie said,

  ‘I think I should tell you about ....’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘The escape lines.’

  Chapter 19

  Over the Wall

  The Koffiji Café was crammed. Amanda was lucky to find two seats free, while Kyt nipped into the shop next door. A man of post-retirement age, looking around, momentarily caught Amanda’s eye. He wore a green Barbour coat over a tweed jacket with a matching cap. She didn’t usually notice people, but something about him that she was quite unable to define drew her attention.

  His tea had arrived a while ago, and now he had picked up his spoon and was scanning the café. Amanda leaned across.

  ‘Excuse me, please, sir, do you need some sugar? I have a whole bowlful here.’

  The gentleman turned to her with a gentle smile.

  ‘Now then, how thoughtful of you.’ There was something about the way he said, ‘now then.’ If only she could pinpoint it. Perhaps if they talked a little.

  ‘I thought your tea might be getting cold,’ said Amanda.

  ‘Very good of you. I must drink up; my daughter will be here soon. Oh, speak of angels, here she is.’

  A smiling woman approached, wearing a rainbow scarf and practical brown jacket, matching her hair.

  ‘Hello, Dad,’ and seeing he was in conversation with someone, added, ‘Hello, there.’

  ‘Amanda. Hello.’

  ‘Glad you’re keeping him company. I had to pop into Seasalt by myself, or Dad would have bought every shoe they had in the shop. Except for the women’s and children’s!’

  ‘They sell all sorts in there,’ her father explained, ‘but I must admit that that’s my weakness,’ he added ruefully.

  ‘I do like shoes myself,’ Amanda admitted. ‘My favourite trainers are the ones with the lights in the soles.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ agreed the lady. ‘Well, we must get home. Nice to meet you.’

  ‘Lovely chatting to you,’ said the old man, with every appearance of pleasure.

  ‘Me too. I’m Amanda by the way. Amanda Ca—’

  �
�Oo, I know who you are.’ He smiled. There was a deep kindness in his eyes that lit his entire face. With that, he collected his shopping and then they were gone.

  Amanda wondered if he came here often, and whether the staff might know his name. But the queue was growing, and they had their hands full. Oh well.

  By the evening, Amanda had forgotten all about it, and her mind was fixed on hearing the next episode of the Lucy saga. Hogarth brought in a pot of tea, rather than mugs, so they could have refills. Amanda saw this as a hopeful sign of a nice long chapter of the story.

  ‘So, tell us about the escape lines, Uncle Mike. It sounds like The Secret Army! The Belgians who got RAF pilots away to England during the Second World War.’

  ‘Indeed. I was just as eager to hear. And so Elodie told me ….’

  ***

  ‘To this day, I have no idea who they were,’ said Elodie. ‘Of course, I used to speculate. Until I wanted a life free from any of it.’

  ‘I understand,’ replied Hogarth.

  ‘Actually, I think we could do with some more refreshments for this bit.’

  It was clear to Hogarth that Elodie needed a breather, and he waited patiently until she had carried in tea and the curry puffs and cheese puffs he had brought from Harry.

  ‘There,’ said Elodie having set them out. ‘So,’ she commenced, ‘I think the people who ran the lines may have been friends, maybe farmers or other contacts or something of George, a man who worked on the Dowrkampyers’ estate. He was the assistant manager, but in practice, he seemed to do the manager’s job and plenty more besides. Anyway, when the messages started turning up, I didn’t see who else could have sent them or at least been delivering them, apart from George.’

  ‘Turning up how?’

  ‘In my shoes, in my pockets and books, in places in the grounds where only I went.’

  ‘What did they say?’ asked Hogarth, helping himself to a handful of cheese puffs.

  ‘They were offers of help. Help to get children out of the school. The ones who … they were desperate because their parents wouldn’t hear a word against Growan House. Even the ones who had parents who were worried, didn’t know what to do. You see, as I said, the parents and the children — I don’t know if it was encouraged or it happened by itself but — they made a sort of club of themselves. They stopped seeing old friends and even family. They were all so locked into the Dowrkampyers, they couldn’t see a way out when they finally wanted it.’