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

‘Erm ... I’m not sure what it is I’m supposed to be seeing or, er, smelling.’

‘This, my dear, is the scene of one of my son’s accomplishments. It was on this very spot that he broke up a faceoff between Terence ‘Trigger-happy’ Jenkins and Benny ‘the Barrel’ Hines, no less.’

‘Really?’

‘He never told you about that? He got a commendation for it. A very tricky situation.’

‘No, the inspector has never mentioned it.’

‘A testament to our Thomas’s modesty, as well as his courage.’

‘I am in no doubt as to either, I promise you,’ Amanda replied warmly.

‘Glad you came, though?’

‘Yes. I like seeing the places where he’s grown up and worked.’

‘Yes well, we’ll save the baby pictures. However, I could show you where the police station is.’

‘I’d like that, only, I wouldn’t want to disturb the inspector,’ answered Amanda anxiously.

‘No, we shall just admire from afar!’

Kyt got Amanda home in plenty of time for a rest then a shower and change of clothes.

She found herself ready 45 minutes too early. It was difficult to resist pacing and watching the clock.

Chapter 5

Cal’s Proposal

At last, and punctually, Trelawney arrived to find Amanda emerging from the front door, coated, gloved and scarved against the early spring chill. He suppressed a smile.

There was an old mattress leaning on the hall wall in Hogarth’s cottage. Later, when Trelawney stepped into the garden for a breath of air, he found large pieces of worn bedroom carpet on the patio. They appeared to have been cast out of the window above. Thomas refrained from asking Mike about them, assuming his friend would tell him if he so wished.

Amanda likewise resisted the temptation to question Hogarth about Lucy’s story, either before or during dinner. As he served pudding and tea to Amanda on the sofa and Thomas in an armchair, he commended her.

‘Well done, my dear. A valiant struggle! It shall now be rewarded. To continue then ….’

***

A year later found Cal tapping on the door of his parents’ department. His first attempt at talking to Sir Philip had been foiled by an important phone call that his father had had to take. This time he had made an appointment.

Lady Rayke opened and, with an encouraging nod, ushered Cal into the room. Sir Philip looked over his glasses with a kindly air of anticipation, and his son took a seat opposite him at the desk.

‘Ah, Cal. Excellent. Sit down, sit down.’

‘I’m sitting down, Dad. Thank you.’

‘Yes, yes, so you are. Now your mother has told me that there is a matter regarding your future you wish to broach with me. Have I that correctly?’

‘Yes, Dad.’

‘If it’s about that er, ... girl … Winifred —’

‘— Imelda, sir.’

‘Ah yes, er … So difficult to keep up. Yes ... I really think that you are too young to consider matrimony at this point.’

Cal chuckled. The undiscerning were all too quick to put Sir Philip down as a doddering fool, but his son knew better, and also knew an ice-breaker when he saw it.

‘I couldn’t agree with you more, sir. And, by the way, Imelda and I are still just friends.’

‘Well now, that’s a relief. So, what is it?’

‘I’ve been thinking about this for a whole year.’

‘One sixteenth of a life is not to be sneezed at. Good,’ approved his father. ‘About what precisely?’

Cal took a deep breath and launched. ‘I would like to work for you. For this department.’

Sir Philip removed his glasses and leaned back, his expression a mask of gentle interest.

‘In what capacity, may I ask?’ he enquired.

‘A sleeper.’

‘An agent?’

‘Yes, that’s right. You see, I’ve been doing some reading — research — finding out whatever I could. It was that day, the day you took the brown pin out of Cornwall, I knew something had happened to the agent there. But look.’ Cal pulled a sheaf of folded papers from his pocket and spread them out on the desk before his father.

‘Look, sir. You see the kind of magical events you track and deal with? Where you have your operatives around the UK? I couldn’t help noticing — the Brythonic people, isn’t it? Those who speak Cornish, Welsh, and Breton across the Channel. Wales and Breton have at least two pins nearly always. And Cornwall is a sort of hub between them. It’s pivotal, but there’s no brown pin. You need someone there and ... it could be me.’

Sir Philip nodded thoughtfully ‘I see. And what about your education?’

‘I’ve thought about all that. It’s all part of the plan,’ replied Cal eagerly.

‘Go ahead.’

‘I’d need to integrate as much as possible. Of course, I do have some Cornish in me from both of you, but I should be educated there. Go to university, I mean. I’d make contacts there that could stand me in good stead. All right, not in the same way as an Oxbridge college but Cornish contacts, which I think is far more important.’ Cal drew a breath and, hopefully, watched his father, who after a pause, spoke:

‘And what would be your chosen career for which this university education would be preparing you? Your cover.’ Cal told his father, who raised his eyebrows. ‘Hm. Well ... hm yes ... could be a sound choice. There would be a ceiling as to how far as your career could progress,’ Sir Philip warned.

‘Yes, I know I have to stay obscure. I’ll never be knighted for one thing,’ Cal quipped. That drew a smile from his father, who then enquired,

‘All right, and how would you assume this new identity?’

‘Well, we’d have to have a blazing row. In public. I mean, for show. I’d storm off to, oh, Timbuktu or somewhere, but I’d come back, I mean, to Cornwall, and start my