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

person. I like being by myself,’ she added, trying to avoid undue emphasis.

‘Oh, me too!’ agreed Pamela, failing to take the hint.

‘Well … you’ll find your niche, your style,’ Amanda said encouragingly, walking back to the ballroom. Pamela followed, little-lamb-like.

‘You’re kind. Like Simon. That’s what he says, and there’s something about his eyes, so kind that when he looks at you … you just feel better, you know?’

Reading people wasn’t Amanda’s strong point, but Pamela’s blush, far off gaze and soft voice did suggest a crush. No one had ever confided such an emotional state to Amanda before. She said,

‘Well, I haven’t met him, so I really couldn’t say, but I’m glad he’s helpful to you.’

‘Oh, not just me. Simon’s helpful to us both. Sam’s concentrating on her studies, and that’s why she invited him along, to tutor her.’

‘That’s generous of him, giving up his weekend.’

‘Oh, it’s all right. I think her Dad’s paying him,’ Pamela explained with guileless reassurance.

‘Ah, so I expect they’re studying now.’

‘I think so.’

Amanda wondered if she could encourage Pamela to go and do the same but was reluctant to sound unfriendly. Suddenly the girl rushed into speech once more.

‘I know people think Sam is mean and selfish and manipulative and things … you know? But she does have a nice side to her. She can be funny and kind and, you know, listen.’’

As for the first part, Amanda did indeed know. She replied vaguely, ‘Ahuh.’

‘So, I think it’s just because people don’t understand her. But I do, and so does Simon. I think he’s really helping.’

The door opened and Mr Lawley appeared in person. He was on the tall side of medium height, hair the colour of walnut, framing pleasant features. One in particular struck Amanda: Simon’s brown eyes, catching the light, revealed glimpses of green, blue and amber. Their expression was warm, confiding, understanding.

Dreamy-eyes.

Amanda recalled Sylvia’s expression. However, she reflected, I don’t think he switches on the charm. I think he looks at everyone like that, but some people imagine that it’s just with them. Oh dear … Pamela ….

He was coming towards her, offering his hand.

‘Amanda. I’m Simon.’ The voice was gentle with a hint of playfulness. ‘A pleasure to meet the rescuer of The Grange from dilapidation. What can I do to help? I have to justify my visit. There must be something I can do to assist you, Amanda.’ He spoke her name as though it was the most melodic combination of syllables in the English language.

‘Nice to meet you, Simon. If there is, I promise to tell you,’ she returned with a smile and practical air.

‘Pamela, deah!’ came Hiller’s penetrating voice from the hall.

‘Oh! Excuse me, Simon, Amanda.’ The girl hurried out of the room. ‘Yes, Grandmamma?’

Simon spread his hands, ‘I’m sorry I’m not much a DIY man.’

‘I understand your skills lie in other areas and are quite remarkable,’ Amanda replied tactfully.

‘Linguistics, yes. It’s my thing. But it’s always been a natural talent, and I have to confess not something that I’ve had to work at as hard as perhaps I should,’ Simon observed ruefully.

‘Do you speak any obscure languages?’

‘One or two,’ he answered modestly. ‘For example?’

‘I’m Cornish by birth. A yll’ta kewsel Kernowek?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t speak any at all. To my shame. Some time ago, a Cornish work was actually passed to me, and I had to hand it on.’

‘No English translation was available?’ enquired Amanda intrigued.

‘Oh, this was a handwritten book.’

‘How unusual.’

‘I’m guessing it was a journal or diary or perhaps research notes.’

‘That sounds pretty personal. Didn’t the owner want it back?’

‘I’m afraid …. he passed away … that is … he went missing. The man who found it concluded it belonged to the owner who he thought was English. It was found in rather rugged inaccessible terrain, long after the search for man had been abandoned. My colleague was the only Englishman visiting at the time, so they gave it to him, and, back in England, he thought I might be able to decipher it.’

‘So, the man was English? The one who disappeared?’

‘Yes, well, I suppose Cornish since he wrote in that language.’

‘Still, at least you recognised that it was Cornish,’ Amanda encouraged him.

‘Actually, I thought it was Welsh!’ Simon admitted. ‘But my Brythonic isn’t up to scratch. A friend corrected me and said he’d look into when he had time.’

‘Ah, and has he?’

‘I don’t know. He moved, and you know how it is with books, they can so easily get lost in transit. ‘

‘True,’ Amanda agreed.

‘So, I hope you’ll test me on another language some time, Amanda, and I shan’t disappoint.’

‘My only others are French and a bit of Swedish.’

‘Those I can manage,’ Simon said cheerfully.

‘I’m sure you can!’

He looked around the ballroom. ‘So. What’s the next job?’

‘The piano.’ She gestured towards it.

‘Oh.’

‘Look under the cover,’ Amanda invited him.

He raised the dull green dust cloth and peered at the ruin.

‘My word! I’m sure there must be some heavy lifting involved. That I’m good for.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Where on earth will you start?’ asked Simon, curiously.

‘I’ve been asking myself that. It’s not my area, but it needs to be in some sort of shape for the Spring Equinox Ball the Grange ladies are giving for the village. Unfortunately, the experts aren’t available.’

‘Hm.’

‘I shall prop it up, clamp it to death and get on with the action while I think about it.’

‘Action?’

‘The hammers, the hidden bits that make the notes sound when you press a key on the keyboard.’

‘It looks like so much of it is damaged.’

‘Yes, well, I’ve suggested replacing the entire workings, but it’s old and has been in the family for generations, and Miss de Havillande has asked me to please preserve as much as possible. So I need to assess how many new keys, key covers, hammers, tapes and strings we’ll need. I have to attempt salvage and then see what must be replaced.’

‘And the piano case?’

‘I think it will have to be a new lid but the rest, I can put inserts into, I