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

‘Just right, thank you Elodie, and I do appreciate the Hobnobs too.’

She smiled a smile of genuine pleasure, like a child who had got a gold star.

Elodie began. ‘I’ll have to tell everyone’s part. Is that ok?’

‘Yes, of course.’

She inhaled and began,

‘This is a tale of three houses. Perhaps some might say three great houses. Three great houses upon the Moor.’

‘Bodmin?’

‘That’s right. Now only two remain, do they not?’

‘You are speaking of Flamgoyne, Cardiubarn Hall and the old schoolhouse that was once the residence of the Dowrkampyers?’ asked Hogarth. ‘The house that burned down some time ago, leaving only two others standing?’

‘Yes,’ responded Elodie.

‘Dowrkampyer. An unusual name,’ he remarked.

‘There’s a legend that goes with it. Would you like to hear it?’

‘Please.’ Hogarth added sugar to his tea and stirred, as Elodie commenced.

‘I can’t say it speaks at all highly of the family founder, but this is how it goes. Long, long ago, the first of that name was deciding where to build his mansion. He took a liking to the land by Dozmary Pool. The farmer who owned it also made his living from a drink made from local herbs and the water of the Pool. The man offered the farmer a good price but was refused, for it was the farmer’s livelihood. So, the man took out his sword and struck the farmer down where he stood. The man took his name from what he called the Pool thereafter: water — dowr — of the champion – kampyer: Dowrkampyer.’ Elodie took a sip of tea.

‘He must have challenged both the Cardiubarns and Flamgoynes too and won,’ remarked Hogarth. ‘My understanding is that their estates marched side by side to the water’s edge.

‘Well, I think it’s apocryphal,’ replied Elodie, ‘but either way, it hardly does the founder of the clan credit.’

‘I would agree on both counts.’

‘Some of the old locals called him Bokampyer,’ Elodie added. ‘Bocka means ghost, goblin.’

‘Hm, not the best PR for a family starting a school,’ Hogarth observed. ‘But the mansion was built.’

‘Growan House. “For growan minds”, was the informal slogan.’

‘Growan?’ Hogarth queried.

‘Granite,’ Elodie supplied. ‘Some said like the heart of clan.’

Hogarth nodded, and picked up a Hobnob. ‘Two clans of great power, the Cardiubarns and the Flamgoynes. And, in between, like the filling of a sandwich — or the jam in a jammy dodger, should I say? — the Dowrkampyers.’

Elodie smiled at the biscuit analogy.

‘Yes. Lesser in influence though, but thanks to investments, not so very behind in terms of wealth. There are some in the tin, by the way — jammy dodgers.’

‘Thank you, I noticed. All three clans bordered Cadabra land to the north?’

‘That’s right. But the Cadabras were no threat. Whereas, the ones either side were a different matter. So it became the desire of the Dowrkampyers to increase their status among the populace. And so they set up the school. Private. A special school for children with “special potential”. They invited local families to apply.’

Here Elodie paused. Hogarth had the impression that she was about to pass from the historical to the personal. He busied himself with a Hobnob while she selected a chocolate digestive biscuit from the tin, and dunked it in her tea. She counted to 11 under her breath. She withdrew the biscuit, put the soaked half in her mouth, then took a few seconds to enjoy the luscious combination. At last, Elodie dusted her fingers on a napkin, then continued.

‘Some, perhaps most, of those selected for interviews were from parents much like my own. Ambitious. Ambitious for their children, themselves, their family name. For there was a hint of the promise of a kind of education that would grant the children something extraordinary. By those who wished to take it so, it was speculated, rumoured, whispered. The words: magical powers.’

Chapter 16

Hidden Extras

‘Quite a bit more than a private school with extras,’ observed Hogarth.

‘Yes. There was a secrecy about it. A feeling of the chosen few — the élite.’ Elodie’s eyes grew grave, and a slight crease appeared between her brows. ‘We were made to believe how lucky, how incredibly lucky we were ....’ She looked into the distance, then at Hogarth whom she could see was deeply concerned by what he was now hearing.

‘I don’t want you to think that all of those parents were bad people, Chief Inspector.’ Elodie insisted earnestly. ‘Or that they were stupid or gullible.’

‘Except for the ones that were,’ interjected Marielle, with dark humour. ‘Nooo, just joking.’

‘There is such a thing as wilful ignorance,’ put in Peter, pacifically.

‘I think,’ moderated Geoffrey, ‘what Elodie is trying to say, is that everyone wants to feel special, important, in some way. And when a man, especially, cannot provide for his family in the way he would wish, then being able to contribute to their present or future well-being in some other way would be particularly appealing. And that was the opportunity that Growan House was offering.’

‘Yes, thank you, Geoffrey,’ responded Elodie, appreciatively. ‘I must say that there were single mothers too, who were, I’m sure, experiencing exactly the same emotions.’

‘Of course,’ Geoffrey acknowledged readily.

‘Naturally they wanted the best for their children, and why not any advantage for themselves that might come as a result? So anyway, the point is that the vast majority weren’t stupid or gullible. They were just —’

‘— trying to do their best?’ finished Hogarth, thinking how in most cases it was both credible and laudable, but also used in others as an excuse to behave in ways that were far less so. Elodie seemed to sense his train of thought.

‘I’m not saying either that there weren’t also among them the mean and ambitious, and those, frankly, demented enough to readily immolate their children on the altar of their own