Amanda Cadabra and The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr

by Holly Bell

‘Yes, instantly afterwards or possibly at the same time.’

  ***

  ‘I returned to Cornwall and did the obvious thing: tried to track down Shilpa, Mimi and Roger. Lucy had been able to give me their surnames, and she had some idea of where the girls had lived, from driving them home that night. It took persistence. Mimi had married, so her name was different. Shilpa was training to be an engineer and Roger a doctor – a psychologist.

  They all agreed to speak to me. Their accounts differed very little. One thing they did all express was their appreciation for the author of their escape that night. They all said more than once “Lucy got us out. We owe her our lives.” I had the impression that that was all any of them would ever say ‘till their dying day.’

  ‘Did you ask them if there was anyone else on the stairs?’ asked Amanda.

  ‘They said there was fighting all over and around the house. It all happened so quickly, and their eyes were on Lucy and the Dowrkampyer Arlodh. There could have been someone else there.’

  Hogarth lifted his hands, palm up. “That’s all I got, and this is all I’ve got for you two tonight.”

  ‘Wait, Mike,’ Trelawney requested. ‘So, you still don’t know what happened to Dowrkampyer? And Lucy? Was Peter there too? Did you never actually meet the owner of the family house? You must have done, if she gave you the surnames of the children. Why can’t she tell the story for herself instead of leaving it to a child like Elodie? Or to Peter?’

  ‘See you tomorrow.’

  Chapter 24

  Feeling the Way

  They were almost at Trelawney’s car when Amanda felt at her neck.

  ‘Oh no, I’ve left my scarf behind.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ He opened the doors, letting Tempest in and onto his VIP seat. ‘Make yourself comfortable while I go back and get it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Amanda quickly got in.

  ‘Grandpa! Granny!’

  They appeared on the back seat.

  ‘You’ve got to help me. This Lucy riddle is driving me nuts!’

  ‘I’ve said before, that’s because you’re overthinking it,’ stated Granny.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Perran. ‘You have to feel your way to this one, bian. That’s why Mike has told you his story and Lucy’s from the beginning. So that you’d feel for them.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Amanda replied helplessly.

  ‘Remember your own times on the Moor,’ Granny insisted.

  ‘Apart from recently, that was only when I was little,’ protested Amanda.

  ‘Yes, exactly,’ said Grandpa, encouragingly. ‘When you were little. And how did it feel?’

  The driver’s door opened abruptly.

  ‘Here you are.’ Trelawney handed Amanda her scarf.

  ‘Thank you, Inspector.’

  As they drew up at her cottage, Trelawney asked,

  ‘Want me to stay over?’

  ‘Thank you, but I'll be fine tonight. I'll leave the window open a bit. Funny, I remember the sounds of the sea always made me feel better when I was little and had trouble with sleep.’

  ‘I know you’re grown up but —’ He stopped, looking at Amanda intently. She was looking back at him with the same expression. ‘You’re not.’

  ‘No,’ she replied, an idea growing in her mind.

  ‘Mike said, you’re nine.’

  ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Dr Bertil said that to me that I was “nine, always nine.”

  ‘The person stays the same ....’

  ‘Only the body ages.’ Amanda was frowning ... feeling. ‘Granny and Grandpa said I have to feel my way, feel how it was ... I was only alone for short times at Cardiubarn Hall. I was afraid, terrified, every second of it. So afraid I couldn’t speak, and then so afraid I pretended I couldn’t. That was just for a couple of hours at a time. Imagine being there for days and days and then living there. Without hope of help. The people who were supposed to protect you ... no one would listen. You know, in thrillers the heroine is trapped, and the villain says there’s no point in screaming because no one will hear you? What if it was real life and you were a child and …. No one will hear you scream ....’

  Trelawney shook his head.

  ‘Appalling.’

  Suddenly Amanda’s expression changed. Her face was lit with excitement and purpose.

  ‘I need my laptop. Come in, Inspector.’

  Once on the sofa, Amanda dragged her computer onto her knees, saying,

  ‘What’s the thing Lucy and I have in common that you don’t? Of course, it’s not magic: it’s trauma. Childhood trauma. That’s why Dr Bertil said I’d never grow up. Not inside, not like you or ... or ... anyway.’

  Her fingers whirled across the keyboard as she searched Google, then read entries on Wikipedia, followed by one website after another.

  ‘Yes ... yes,’ Amanda muttered. Trelawney was content to watch her, and Tempest gave up looking pointedly towards the kitchen, and climbed up behind to observe her progress. ‘One of the people who used to come and see Grandpa had PTSD.’

  ‘Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?’ asked Trelawney.

  ‘Yes, and Grandpa and Granny were talking about it one day. And ... oh, what were they saying? .... Yes, about in children .... When trauma in young children causes what they call dissociation. And because it was about children, I got interested and looked it up. Yes, here! Dissociative identity disorder. It used to be called multiple personality disorder, see?’ Amanda pointed to the words on the screen.

  ‘Ah yes, I’ve heard of that.’

  The keys patterned under her fingers. Trelawney went to his car, retrieved his laptop and soon they were rattling away in unison, side by side.

  ‘There’s more than one idea about the mechanism,’ he commented presently.

  ‘But the effect is the same,’ answered Amanda.

  ‘So ... multiple .... What if ...?’

  She stopped typing and looked at him, eyes a-glow, nodding.

  ‘Yes. Elodie.’

  ‘Zoe.’

  ‘Marielle.’

  ‘Peter.’

  ‘Geoffrey.’

  ‘Of course: a system. Like a solar system.’

  ‘A family,’ affirmed Amanda.

  Trelawney had never encountered anything like it. He read on.

  Tempest rolled his eyes. How many aeons had it taken them to work this out? Human brains operated like treacle. It was a miracle they’d invented the wheel.

  ‘It says here that personalities usually switch in and out, so that time is missing. Because the next personality to switch in, has no knowledge of what took place while they were gone. But sometimes Elodie was there with others at the same time .... Ah no, wait, they can be co-conscious: two or more present and aware of one another at the same time. Like a ... a committee. But I’m not quite clear about how this came about in Lucy’s case.’

  ‘Actually, now I think about it, it all makes perfect sense,’ responded Amanda.

  ‘It does?’ It was not as clear to Trelawney.

  ‘Look. Alone and in danger. It’s happened to you as an adult.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But you see, what would you do if you were little? What are little children good at? They can make imaginary friends. And that’s all very well if you just want someone to do things with. But what if you needed an imaginary friend to actually do things for you, face things for you. Be you instead of you?’

  ‘So, you make another you? A bigger, stronger, wiser you,’ Trelawney responded.

  ‘When you’re little, someone even just a couple of years older seems so much more so. So little Lucy made Elodie and, to separate herself entirely from Lucy’s life, little Lucy changed her name to Zoe.’

  ‘And they remain children — arrested emotional development, but the body grew, and they accumulate experience. Ok, so that takes care of Zoe and Elodie. What about the others?’

  ‘Well, Uncle Mike said Elodie talked about one of the Dowrkampyer sons maki
ng advances to her. Advances she’d be expected to accept. How could two little girls deal with such a situation? They’d need someone grownup. Zoe had done it once, making another person, so ....’

  ‘She could do it again. Maybe Elodie could do it too, and so either one or both created Marielle. Of course. And it was an extremely complicated situation. They also needed a strategist: Peter.’

  ‘Then, as things got more and more dangerous, someone to protect them all.’

  ‘Geoffrey.’

  ‘Lucia Palomo ....’

  ‘The name on the doorbell!’ they said in unison.

  ‘The clue was there all along,’ added Amanda. ‘Lucy Penlowr, Lucille Charpentier, Lucia Palomo, just the name on the documents, the name on the house. But the five personalities are the people, the occupants.’

  Chapter 25

  Understanding Lucy

  ‘The title on the committee room door, then, is Lucy,’ concluded Trelawney.

  ‘Or like a surname,’ suggested Amanda. ‘No one in the family has that as a given name, but it means they are part of that family.’

  ‘Aha yes,’ Trelawney agreed enthusiastically. ‘Take a family of the name of “Smith”: John Smith, Mary Smith, David Smith. There is no Smith but there once would have been.’

  ‘Oh, that’s good. Just as there once was a Lucy, pre-trauma. Now there’s Zoe Lucy, Elodie Lucy and so on.’

  Fired by their progress, Amanda and Trelawney continued researching.

  Presently, Amanda remarked admiringly, ‘After fourteen years of therapy, the Lucy family has reached a remarkable resolution.’

  ‘Indeed .... It’s different from schizophrenia, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, that seems to be a common misunderstanding: people with schizophrenia don’t have multiple personalities .... Oh. Multiples just used to be thought mad or dangerous or possessed. How awful. Dissociative identity disorder does have wider acceptance now. Some younger people actually come out in the open about it …. In some cases, people have far more than five personalities ... and, oh, it looks like often the main one, or the spokesperson, is the original one.’

  ‘And there are different theories as to how it comes about,’ Trelawney commented. ‘It’s a bit confusing. It isn’t just facets, is it? Like we all have.’

  ‘Not facets. The personalities are very distinct. Remember the hand-writing on the two lists Uncle Mike showed us?’

  ‘The first sloped forward,’ recalled Thomas, ‘the second sloped slightly backwards.’

  ‘And the five of them have different voices, gestures, mannerisms. Peter puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels.’

  ‘Zoe walks flat-footed: stomps, Marielle glides. Elodie walks purposefully but lightly. Geoffrey has his arms by his sides.’

  ‘They have different speech patterns. And Zoe tucks her hair behind both ears,’ Amanda remembered. ‘Elodie only one, Marielle neither.’

  ‘Peter clears his throat. I imagine Geoffrey breathes deeply. He’s always relaxed. Yes ... yes, I see.’

  Good grief, thought Tempest from the sofa back. Finally. It’s like watching the Alps form.

  Amanda put a hand on Trelawney’s arm and said intensely:

  ‘This can’t wait. We have to go back to Uncle Mike’s.’

  Trelawney nodded.

  ‘I’ll drive; you text him.’

  They had to kick their heels while Tempest’s car blanket was warmed on the radiator, as he indicated it was his pleasure to accompany them.

  Despite the urgency they felt, the inspector kept to the speed limit, but they hurried up the path and in through the latched door.

  Mike was up a ladder painting the spare-room ceiling.

  ‘What news, friends?’ he called down.

  ‘We know!’ Amanda cried joyfully, still holding the bundled-up Tempest. ‘We know who Lucy is!’

  ‘Worked it out, did you?’

  ‘The name on the doorbell: Lucy – Lucia. That was the first clue, wasn’t it?’ asked Amanda.

  ‘Lucy is just the name on the door. There is no Lucy. No such person as Lucy,' added Trelawney.

  ‘Because Lucy is a multiple, plural,’ finished Amanda in triumph.

  Hogarth made a final sweep of the roller and descended the ladder, smiling.

  ‘Well done. Keep going.’

  ‘Lucy is the name on the documents and the birth certificate,' said Amanda. 'Zoe was once Lucy before she was traumatised by being trapped in that school. Alone with no allies she could trust, no escape, no way out. Cut off. Then the children getting sick, and a death. It was a reality she couldn't handle, so she created Elodie. Elodie who dealt with it for years until it grew beyond her, and a son of the house started making advances, so they made Marielle. Then Peter to strategise, and then Geoffrey to protect them all. But all in the same body.'

  ‘There’s even a research article,' put in Trelawney, ‘about a scan that showed the personalities in different parts of the brain in the same body.’

  ‘Very good,’ Hogarth praised them. ‘You see why it took me a while to get my head around it, all that time ago?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ agreed Trelawney. ‘I’d heard of it and seen horror and thriller films of multiples where one of the personalities goes crazy or something.’

  ‘Yes,’ sighed Hogarth, ‘a lot of bad press has led to a great deal of pain and secrecy. But “Lucy” survived. The five personalities became a family. A happy family with a happy life. They wouldn't have it any other way now.’

  ‘I see that,’ said Trelawney.

  ‘So, no wonder you called it the strange case of Lucy Penlowr,’ acknowledged Amanda.

  Hogarth smiled and put a cover on the roller tray.

  ‘You can congratulate yourselves.’

  ‘It was the inspector,’ explained Amanda. ‘He said something to me about being grownup, and then I remembered how Dr Bertil Bergstrom used to say I was nine years old, always nine.’

  ‘You’ve done splendidly. However, you — as was my own case back then — have only solved part of the puzzle. And not the main part either. The cold case: who was responsible for the flash of light, the spell that killed the Lord of the Dowrkampyer clan? Who cut the head from the snake?’

  With that, Hogarth packed them off, saying it was time to wash his roller and go to bed.

  Chapter 26

  Proposal

  ‘It had to have been a Cardiubarn or a Flamgoyne who killed Mordren Dowrkampyer,’ opined Amanda.

  ‘Or another Dowrkampyer,’ returned Trelawney.

  ‘True,’ she readily admitted. ‘The Cardiubarns were bumping each other off all the time to get to the top of the heap. That much I did learn from those horrifying afternoons with my great-grandmother.’

  ‘Ditto the Flamgoynes.’

  ‘Maybe the Dowrkampyers had the same urge. Maybe Frongar, the son, did it. But how do we get any further than just ideas?’

  ‘We do what all good police detectives do in such a situation,’ replied the inspector. ‘We wait, and we listen.’

  ***

  As Trelawney took up his spoon to indulge in the sticky toffee pudding on his plate, he became aware that Hogarth was regarding him a little ruefully. Trelawney looked back at him questioningly.

  ‘Now this becomes a little more my story again,’ Hogarth began. ‘For you see, I had most inconveniently ... and perhaps reprehensibly,’ he added, looking again at Trelawney, ‘fallen in love with Lucy, the whole family: the Lucy family. And I deeply desired to make them my own family and to become a part of theirs.’

  Thomas was stunned. His mentor of so many years, it was now transpiring, had had feet of clay. He had always seemed the epitome of professionalism. A little unorthodox at times perhaps but ... fallen in love with a ... a witness? How could he have ...? A memory flashed into Thomas’s mind. A certain New Year’s Eve, not so many months ago ... Midnight under the dancing lights in the dark. Miss Cadabra ... he had had the impulse to .... of course, he hadn’t acted
on it. Of course not. And yet ... at times ... since then. Thomas flushed. He was uneasily aware that he was standing in a metaphorical glass house and was in no position to cast the first stone.

  ‘Well,’ he finally murmured, ‘I have to admit, I didn’t see that one coming. My blind spot.’

  Hogarth looked at Trelawney apologetically, ‘Have I lowered myself irredeemably in your esteem, Thomas?’

  Trelawney smiled unwillingly.

  ‘Of course not. We are police officers, but we are human beings first.’

  ‘Well spoken, lad. Perhaps you’ll agree that I would not have been the first to fall for a witness in a cold case.’

  ‘But the case was still open, wasn’t it?’ Trelawney replied, deftly dodging the issue.

  ‘Yes, Thomas. And I do realise, I assure you, how irregular my feelings and my subsequent actions were. And I hope that you will not disapprove of me too deeply, as I continue my confession.’

  Trelawney relaxed at that and grinned.

  ‘I’m sure I should be the last person to do so. After all the slack you have cut me over the years.’

  ‘Very little was needed, lad.’

  ‘Oh, but Inspector,’ implored Amanda. She had sat silent, seeing Hogarth and Trelawney were directing their words to one another. Clearly, there was some undercurrent going on here that she could not fully grasp. To her, a rule was a rule. However, Normals were more elastic about such concepts. Then again, was Uncle Mike a Normal? She didn't know what he was, now she came to think of it. One thing she did know, however:

  ‘Inspector, aren’t you glad that Uncle Mike hasn’t been alone all these years, without love?’

  ‘Well ... er, of course,’ responded Trelawney, caught between two stools.

  The amusement on Hogarth’s face was clear enough even for Amanda to read, as he spoke,

  ‘But, to continue. Our interviews had taken place over many months. I had to be discreet about the frequency of my visits to Vera and Harry’s villa, and … how I spent my time while there. Also, policemen don’t get all that much time off. This was not part of my official role but my undercover work. And so ... the process had been a slow one. During that time, I realised that in Lucy Penlowr, I had met what I had always hoped for: someone extraordinary, kind, diverse, mysterious, captivating. Someone like no one I had ever known.’