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

sometimes ... they're right. Anyway, no need for you to worry about that. It goes with the territory.’

Cal was there the day the call came. Sir Philip picked up the black telephone, and said the number of the department in a business-as-usual manner. Then came the pause. His face grew grave.

‘Thank you. I understand.’ He lowered the receiver slowly. Cal’s mother stopped typing. Sir Philip met her eyes and gave a barely perceptible shake of the head. He stood up and went to the board on the wall behind him. There was a kind of ritual solemnity in his movements as he withdrew the one remaining brown pin from Cornwall, and pushed it into the side of the map.

That was the moment that Cal’s plan was born.

***

‘Tea and a walk up the stairs for me and a drive home for you two,’ Hogarth said, concluding his narrative.

‘We three,’ corrected Thomas, prudently gaining a glance of approval from Amanda’s lap-warmer. His witch however still had her attention on Hogarth and protested,

‘What? You’re not stopping there … oh …’ Suddenly mindful of Trelawney's words, she agreed meekly, ‘Of course. It’s late.’

Hogarth smiled sympathetically. ‘Until tomorrow, my friends.’

Chapter 4

Parhayle

The car was cold after the warmth of Hogarth’s fireside. Amanda glanced over her shoulder at the disgruntled Tempest,

‘Aww, soon be home, Mr Fluffykins.’ She then asked Trelawney, ‘Who is this Cal?’

The inspector steered the car onto the road and replied,

‘I’ve never heard Mike mention him.’

‘Or Sir Philip Rayke?’

‘No. No idea at all, I’m afraid. I’m as much in the dark as you are.’ They progressed in silence for a couple of miles, then, ‘I had planned to take some days off for this but ... would you mind? There’s so much to do before I leave.’

‘Of course, you need to go into the station.’

‘You’ll have Mike’s friend, Ken, on call for a cab anywhere you like. Did you pick up the card from the coffee table?’ asked Trelawney.

‘I did. Thank you.’

‘And my father said he’d like to take you out and about a bit, if you’re willing.’

‘Very!’ Kyt, after some initial suspicion of Amanda, had on their first meeting, taken to her and vice versa.

‘Then he’ll take you out to lunch.’

‘Wonderful. Very kind. That will give me the morning to relax and reacquaint myself with the beach.’

Accordingly, the next day, Amanda got up late, served breakfast to herself and Tempest, just stirring, and went, unaccompanied, down to the dunes. She sat on a towel on the sand, watching the cormorants hunting low over the waves, hearing the eeow-eeow of the herring gulls, and musing on what she’d been told so far of ‘Lucy’s story’. Kyt sent a text to see if 1pm would suit her, and soon they were drawing into the main Parhayle car park.

Tempest disappeared off on affairs of his own. Amanda uneasily imagined a feline lock-up-your-daughters tour of the residential properties.

‘Now,’ said Kyt, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically, ‘I’ve booked us into the Smuggler’s Loft. I think you’ll like it.’

‘I’m sure I shall. Kyt, do you know why I’m here?’

‘Mike is doing a special edition of Listen with Hogarth, I understand.’

‘Yes. Do you know anything about it?’

‘No, not I, my dear.’

‘You’ve never heard of anyone called Lucy?’

‘Apart from the barmaid at the Tail and Fins, I can’t say I have. Mike did tell me he had a story to tell you of some importance. That’s all though. Didn’t want to pry.’

‘No. Hm.’ Amanda thought for a while, then asked,

‘Do you know of any great houses up on the Moor that burned down? I had a dream about one on the way here.’

‘Well now ... the Moor is a big place. There must have been any number of fires over the centuries. Unless ....’

‘Unless?’

‘It’s possible ....’

‘You know of somewhere?’

‘Let’s let the story unfold, shall we? All I will say is that I don’t think your flammable building came out of your imagination.’

Once they had feasted on finest Cornish pasties and chips, Kyt suggested,

‘I thought you might like a stroll around the town.’

‘I would. But first ... if it isn’t far ... and it isn’t too morbid ... I’d rather like to see the bend in the road where the Cardiubarn van, er ....’

‘Where your so-charming family met its —’

‘— just desserts, some might say!’ Amanda finished.

‘Of course, we can pay it a visit. It’s only a few minutes’ drive.’

‘Thank you, Kyt. Simply curious.’

‘Well, it is a bit of a local spot for a ghost story, you know, so you’re not the only one.’

Driving east out of Parhayle, soon brought Kyt and Amanda to the B6244. He pulled over onto a verge where the road curved sharply to the left, and parked the car.

‘Here?’ she asked. ‘This is where the van went over?’

‘That’s right.’ They got out of the car. ‘Don’t get too close to the edge now.’ Kyt held Amanda’s arm as she leaned forward a little, looking down between the pines at the rocks below. ‘No place for speeding when the fog rolls in off the Channel. If it freezes, you can skate on it. But the council is very diligent. The gritters are out overnight at the slightest chance of ice.’

‘That’s good. But long ago that wouldn’t have been the case, so I can see why there’d be stories about it.’ Amanda looked up and down the road for a minute or so, then said with a smile,

‘Thank you, Kyt, I’ve seen enough.’

‘Well then, how about a saunter down Gocky Street, sample the arcade, see the casino, oh, and The Alley!’

A few minutes later they were standing in a noisome gap between the backs of two rows of buildings. Amanda looked around and said