Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths by Holly Bell (good book recommendations TXT) 📗

drooping from the wrists, close her mountainous chest.

‘I see!’ she pronounced, affronted.

‘However,’ soothed Amanda, ‘I do appreciate the luxury of having a flower shop here in the village, and that it has such kind and attentive owners.’

Mrs Hilland appeared to be mollified by this rider.

‘Well … do visit. Any time. Not just for flowers. For tea and a chat. You will always be welcome. Dale!’ He came out with the wrapped flowers and Amanda paid him. Mrs Hilland watched them with the air of an overseer. ‘Take those to Amanda’s car for her so she doesn’t have to get too close to them.’ She smiled, showing an impressive number of teeth.

‘There’s no need,’ Amanda insisted.

‘Dale!’

‘Of course, Mother.’ Mrs Hilland disappeared back into the shop, leaving her son to conduct Amanda the short distance to the Vauxhall. Dale was apologetic.

‘She’s new to customer service. I don’t think she understands the finer points,’ he explained with masterly understatement.

‘That’s all right,’ Amanda responded politely.

‘She can be a bit overwhelming at times, but Mother means well.’

‘Ah,’ she replied noncommittally.

‘Last time we talked, you said you were interested in hearing about some of my adventures over tea sometime. I hope Mother hasn’t put you off?’ he asked anxiously.

Amanda smiled reassuringly. ‘Yes, Dale, I would still like that.’

‘Let me know when you’d care for a break from work. We could meet in the café.’

‘All right. Well thank you, Dale. Is it OK if I text you when I’m free?’

‘Of course.’

They had reached the car. From the bonnet, Tempest regarded Dale narrowly with his citrine eyes, and then yawned.

‘See you, Amanda.’

‘Yes, bye Dale.’

Witch and familiar got in and drove towards The Grange, Amanda occasionally shaking her head in perplexity.

***

‘You’re looking puzzled, Amanda dear. What is it that is baffling you?’ asked Miss Armstrong-Witworth solicitously, drawing her into the small salon.

‘Something I can’t understand.’

‘Tell me,’ Gwendolen invited her kindly.

‘Dale Hilland.’

‘Yes?

‘How does a man like him end up in a flower shop, with his unbearable mother, in an obscure village like Sunken Madley? He’s led a life of excitement and adventure, organising and leading adventure holidays all over the world. Crossing the Sahara, climbing the Himalayas, canoeing down the rapids of the Zambezi. I’m sorry I’m rambling, but it makes no sense!’

‘Oh, I don’t know. We government agents in the field did lead quite exciting lives and made quite startling redirections later on. Dear Jimmy Pond, he grows cabbages in Margate. Prudence Blayes, she went into designer knitting in Knockando. And look at me, helping to look after this lovely old house and the estate tenants. Not what you’d have expected of any of us.’

‘Hm … I suppose not … but you’re not with a horrid relative who bosses you around all day.’

‘Well, that’s true. Yes … that is an anomaly. But perhaps it’s just temporary for him. While he decides what he’d like to do next in his life.’

‘Yes, and I suppose he could be genuinely attached to his mother and concerned for her welfare. Perhaps he’s just helping to establish the florist’s before he goes off again.’

‘Would you like him to go off again?’

Amanda thought. ‘No, actually no. I like him. I’d like his mother to go off again!’

‘Met “Jill Hill” did you?’ asked Miss de Havillande, coming to join them for tea, shortly to be served.

‘Yes,’ replied Amanda with feeling.

‘Don’t let her bother you, dear. She’s just the sort of woman that needs proper handling. Like dogs. A firm manner is all that is required.’

‘Dale seems to struggle with that,’ Amanda observed.

‘That’s because he’s a man who is used to being listened to without question. He’s been a leader, an expert. He’s been the captain, at the helm, the guru, the guide. Ask Hillers: she’s done it. Hillers!’

Jaunty steps sounded in the hall.

‘Present and correct,’ cried Hillers, entering through the open door. A stout woman of middle years, above medium height, dressed in plus fours and tweeds, Hillary was marked by her fresh complexion and bracingly — some might have said overwhelmingly — cheerful demeanour.

‘Tell Amanda about people management when you’re the chap in charge,’ Cynthia bade her. ‘Remember when you were a guide?’

‘Oh yes, taking people over the Pennines.’

‘When you were a girl?’ Amanda asked with interest.

‘Yes, and I got back into it for a bit of lark last summer. There was some library or other Humpy was nutty for, so he went and burrowed in while I took a turn, taking trips on the hills. Jolly good fun it was.’

‘People management, dear,’ Miss de Havillande reminded her.

‘Oh, oh yes, well you have to be firm, you see, Amanda, and clear. You have to be commanding, in a confident rather than an oppressive manner, take charge, establish yourself as the leader. People tend to be ready to fall in line, especially when you make the dangers of the expedition very clear. Oh yes, it’s a knack, but once you’ve got it, they all behave.’

‘Ah I see. And Dale Hilland —’

‘Flower chappy, yes?’

‘Yes. In his job as an organiser of high-risk tours, he would have been used to that and expected it?’

‘Oh quite.’

‘I daresay it’s harder for him to apply to his mother,’ Amanda concluded, looking at the ladies for confirmation.

Miss de Havillande nodded firmly.

‘Yes,’ replied Hillers, ‘that’s all.’

Chapter 9

Pasco Flamgoyne

‘I would like you to tell my son what you told me,’ said Kytto Trelawney. He took a seat at the kitchen table of Flamgoyne, the ancestral home of the witch-clan after which it was named. He gestured for Thomas and Pasco to join him.

They sat down, and the estate manager looked at the inspector. He gave a brief nod of acquiescence, then, in a deep-voiced Cornish accent, spoke:

‘There was a day when the Mistress called for Kevern … the driver,’ he added in explanation. ‘Mistress di’n’t leave the estate much. Drove around in ’er jeep. But there was a day; she ordered the Rolls out. She come back. Mistress ‘ad bought gloves from Harber’s Bazaar, her maid said.’

‘You remember that?’

‘Bezzie