Amanda Cadabra and The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr by Holly Bell (i like reading .TXT) 📗

thought of asking his son or Mike for their opinion. But there was no need. Kyt knew it was too soon. Especially in the light of what she had seen on the Moor.

Amanda was back at the cottage in time to change and then curl up with Tempest and the latest copy of Cornwall Life, until Trelawney rang the bell.

On the way, Amanda had told Trelawney of her strange experience earlier that day. When they arrived, she repeated it to Hogarth. Trelawney was none the wiser. Hogarth nodded and said,

‘Hmmm. Interesting. You’re all right?’

‘Yes, Kyt took me for tea and scones and a tour afterwards.’

‘Good. By the way, mind the bathroom door; the paint might be a bit tacky.’

After dinner, Hogarth asked,

‘In your vision, did you recognise any of the people?’

‘Faces are not really my thing, but strangely, one or maybe two of them … very vaguely,’

‘Interesting,’ he said again. ‘And are you really all right, Amanda?’

‘Yes, I’m completely recovered, I promise you. But I’d like to know if what I saw fits in somewhere important.’

‘All in good time, my dear, all in good time. Back to the story?’

Trelawney smiled and nodded. Tempest, curled up in front of the fire, yawned. Amanda clapped her hands.

‘Yes, please!’

Chapter 9

Farewells, and Installation

Cal Rayke, as he still was then, stood behind his father’s desk looking at the map.

‘Dad.’

‘Hm?’ Sir Philip looked up.

Cal pointed to the Iberian peninsula, remembering the postage stamps he’d saved from his one of his sister’s letters.

‘This is Vee, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. And her husband, Harry. Between you and me and your mother, of course: a splendid fellow. I couldn’t have wished for better for Vera.’

‘But all this time, you ... you let me think that you —’

‘Appearances, dear boy. Had to be believable.’

It had actually been quite tricky to convince those who knew Sir Philip that his dealings with his offspring could be so harsh. There Aunt Gigi had come to the rescue, carefully seeding the discrediting rumour that, like the General in The Importance of Being Earnest, Sir Philip was essentially a man of peace in all but his domestic life.

This had been no easy task. Like the Raykes, with her demotion to Department 14, Gigi was treated like a plague carrier. However, the trio was rescued from total isolation by the kindly Gladys the Tea Lady. She had always declared it ‘a proper shame the way Sir P and his Lady R have been treated, and him a gentleman knighted by the Queen.’ Through Gladys, the word leaked out that ‘still waters run deep and who knows what goes on behind closed doors. And that Vera has always been a flighty one to be fair — a rare handful for her parents as anyone ‘as got their own will know. Why my Daisy was ....’

Finally, there came the last visit for the foreseeable future to the office of Sir Philip Rayke. His father was business-like.

‘You’ll have your Aunt Gigi as your contact. She’ll be running you, in a sense. Make sure you see her before you go.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Have you said goodbye to your mother?’

‘I have.’

Cal had thought how brave she was being, giving up her son, and had said so earlier that morning.

‘Oh don’t admire me that much, Cal. When I was a child, so many sons went out to war and never came back. I know that mine will be alive and well. And we’ll find a way for us to meet occasionally. People say, “our children”, but of course they’re not. We’re just a way for them to come into this world and grow up. We’re just caretakers of magnificent buildings that pass into the hands of themselves. Now go and have fun!’

Having had her hugs and last words of advice at home, she absented herself from the office for her son and husband to make their parting, as they were doing now.

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