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

advanced years. Surely during his geological epoch, the iconic spacecraft from Star Wars must have been a by-word.

‘Of course.’

At that moment, Gran Flossie bustled in and looked around.

‘Has anyone seen my specs?’

‘Nooo, Graaan,’ chorused the children.

‘Definitely not in here,’ Kyt called from the dining-room.

‘I’ll check upstairs,’ offered Thomas.

‘Yes, next to the bed,’ replied Flossie, ‘and in the bathroom, if you would, me ’andsome. I’ll look in the kitchen again.’

Amanda rose, eager to be helpful. She looked around the room, and spotted the glasses lurking behind a blue velvet tissue box holder, neatly positioned on a side table, under a lamp, next to a jotter and pen.

‘Here they are!’ she called.

Wella got up and stretched out a hand for them.

‘Thanks. I’ll take them to Gran. I’ll tell her you found them.’ With that, he hurtled from the room, leaving his sister absorbed in the galactic shipyard.

Amanda had knocked the tissue box slightly askew in her rush to deliver the spectacles to their owner, and now bent to reposition it. That was when the angle of the light showed her the imprint of a word on the pad. A word that caught her attention. It must have been written in pen with a heavy hand. The page on top had been torn off, but the indentation was clear to see: Bodmin. Amanda looked closer and saw an address beneath it. Of course, it was none of her business. The Trelawneys probably had friends up there. Friends! The Trelawneys had lived and worked in this place for generations. They must have friends, lots of friends, and among them ....

Presently, Clemo asked Polly and Wella if they wanted to eat with the grownups and have what they were having, or eat now and have a special dinner, then go back to playing?

‘Special pleeeease!’ they chorused, rightly predicting chicken goujons, spaghetti hoops and peas.

‘Right then. Twenty minutes and then ... Gran’s coming ... to get you!’

They squealed with delight and watched the clock every now and then while they played. Amanda, engrossed in creating landing gear for the Millennium Falcon, failed to notice the progress of the clock. Suddenly the children leapt up. Wella climbed onto the windowsill and secreted himself behind a curtain, while his sister hid behind the sofa.

Flossie entered and, from the door, looked around the room dramatically, uttering,

‘Where are you, my pyskies? Come out, come out!’ There were suppressed giggles from Polly. ‘Oh, Amanda, how can I ever find them? But that’s the way of magical folk: you can’t see them unless they want you to. You just can’t tell they’re there unless they show themselves.’

‘So, I gather,’ replied Amanda, playing her part. ‘Whatever are you going to do?’

‘Well, I did have some dinner for them, but I expect I’ll just have to —’

‘Here I am!’ cried Wella, jumping from the windowsill.

‘I’m here,’ called Polly, leaping up like a jack-in-the-box, and bouncing up and down.

‘Well, now. It must be my lucky day,’ marvelled Flossie. ‘Come along then fairy-folk.’ With that, she led the way, dancing them off to the kitchen.

Over dinner, Clemo asked Thomas and Amanda,

‘So, you’re visitin’ Mike Hogarth, are you?’

‘Yes, that’s right, Granddad,’ answered Thomas, between savouring mouthfuls of roast beef, potatoes, parsnips, carrots, peas, Yorkshire pudding, horseradish and gravy.

‘Mike – the one that got away from more than one,’ remarked Gran Flossie. ‘’E’s still a very nice-lookin’ man. That Morwenna, who owns the estate agents in Lowarn Street, still calls ’im the thinkin’ woman’s crumpet!’

‘I’ll be sure to tell him,’ said Thomas impishly.

‘You do that,’ Kyt egged him on.

Clemo grinned, then said, ‘Sorry we couldn’t ’elp you, Tom, with your Bodmin ’istory. And I wouldn’t know who to ask. As Floss said, we sea folk don’t have that much to do with the Moor.’

Disappointing, thought Amanda, still ... it’s worth a try ....

After dinner, Amanda took the chance of a brief spell when Flossie was alone in the kitchen and politely entered her domain.

‘Gran Flossie,’ as she had been instructed to call Mrs Trelawney senior.

‘Tha’s right. You’re ’onoray family now, flower.’

‘Thank you. I wanted to ask you .... I hope you won’t mind. But I saw something that confused me a little, and I’m hoping you can help.’

‘’Course, love. What is it?’

‘Well, Granddad Clemo said at dinner, that the sea folk don’t have much to do with the folk on the Moor. But I saw an address for up there on the pad in the sitting-room.’

Flossie tutted and admitted, ‘I always was a bit ’eavy with my pen. It’s quite all right you askin’,’ she dropped her voice conspiratorially, ‘as long as we keep it between us.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Amanda agreed readily.

‘Well. Tom, ’e asked me and Clemo if we remembered the fire up on the Moor all those years back. And it’s true sea folk don’t concern themselves with what goes on up there. But I could see Tom was all of a pother about it. So, I gets to thinkin’; who might I know? And then I remembers as my old friend’s daughter is ’ead of Fowey Bridge School.’ Ahhh! thought Amanda, with a mixture of joy and relief. ‘She must ’ave ’eard tales or even remember ’erself. So, I thought I’d get the number and give ’er a ring or, even better, p’raps pop in.’

‘I see.’

‘So, I gets the school address off my friend, writes it down and pops it in my pocket, thinkin’ as no one needs to know unless I get somewhere. But I thought I might take a day off tomorrow and pop over there. Itellywhat, you fancy comin’ with me? See, there’s some as might remember somethin’ but won’t talk to the p’lice, but no ’arm in chattin’ to an old woman and ’er young friend, wouldn’t you say?’