‘I don’t know if it goes that far. But … I think if we don’t bother her … somehow, she’ll keep helping us. At least, you. That is, if there’s a murder. Which is very unlikely.’
‘Maybe. I hope so. I’d like to think so.’
‘Take it up to the priory with you,’ Jonathan encouraged her.
‘Does everyone in this village always know where I’m going, do you think?’ she asked comically.
‘It doesn’t take a great detective like you or Inspector Trelawney to deduce from your basket, in fine weather on Sunday, that you’re headed for your favourite place for a picnic, Amanda.’
‘It does give the game away. Thank you, Jonathan. I would like to take the book with me. I’ll bring it back.’
‘No rush, I’ve issued it on your ticket for three weeks,’ replied the conscientious assistant librarian.
‘Thank you. Er, you haven’t had any more of those dreams, then, have you?’
‘No. I’m sleeping well, very well. Shall I let you know if they come back?’
‘Yes, please. You know … you were very brave to …’
‘Actually, I rather liked it,’ Jonathan admitted confidentially. ‘That is, I was quite terrified but … I’ve never done a brave thing in my life, and I do realise it was just all happening in my head … but it felt … good.’
‘In your head … yes. Just the same, you really did splendidly.’
‘Thank you, Amanda. You know, if you or the inspector need my help again with … communicating with the lady downstairs so to speak,’ said Jonathan, for the first time, drawing himself up to his full height, and, with eyes sparkling, asserted, ‘then I’m your man.’
Amanda smiled.
‘I’ll remember that.’
‘One other thing. I found that book you said Mrs Entwhistle wanted. Yes, in the stacks. I’m sure I’ve never seen or catalogued it and so is Mrs Pagely. So how on earth Mrs Entwhistle was sure it was down there, is a mystery. Anyway, I must get back. See you soon.’ Jonathan nodded and strode, actually strode, off back towards the library.
‘Well, well,’ Amanda remarked to Tempest, ‘you really never can tell about people.’
They progressed a few paces before Amanda stopped.
‘Do you think the Oracle put the book title in Mrs Entwhistle’s head? Was she contriving to get me to go down to the stacks, so I’d find the body?’ Amanda shook her head in bewilderment. ‘Oh well, as Jonathan said, it’s just one more mystery.’
They continued their short journey to the ruins of the thousand-year-old Priory on the north side of the village. Here, Amanda scaled carefully to her aerie, her chosen place to picnic, think, look out over her village and lands beyond and take stock. It was also her place to consider her most perplexing questions.
This was the view Amanda loved the most: Sunken Madley, almost model size, framed by orchards and woods, her neighbours going about their Sunday routines. There was already plenty of colour now in the lanes and gardens, with the daffodils waving their golden trumpets. Soon there would be bluebells in the woods, and the chartreuse green of spring would spread and deepen. Best of all, the apple orchards would bloom.
Suddenly, something Humpy had said had come back to her:
‘Hillers and I are thinking we’ll spend a bit more time with Great-aunt Cynthia and Aunt Gwendolen and dear old Moffat. You know, just to be on hand.’
‘Good!’ had been her instant reply. For she had developed real affection for the couple during this last visit. It boded well for her future time working at The Grange.
‘You know, Tempest,’ Amanda reflected. ‘I feel like I’m only just getting to know them, especially Humpy. I feel like I’m only just getting to know Jonathan and, in hindsight, Samantha and, oh my goodness, the Hillands! Not just that, though: Sunken Madley. I thought I understood what makes this village tick. But I’m only just beginning to. Maybe everyone, every place, has hidden depths.’
Amanda arranged their blanket, insulating them from their makeshift stone seat, more comfortably, and got out her ham and Branston pickle sandwiches. Tempest did not care for pickle, and so she had several carefully chosen morsels in a separate shallow box for him. She placed the container before her familiar and stroked his thick grey fur affectionately.
‘Nevertheless, Granny and Grandpa seem to think we’ve done well. So ... so far, so good. At last, we know who did what and when to dispatch my nasty relations. But now ... why do I always seem to end up with more questions than I started with? I suppose one of them, at least, is an old question.’
The identity of the Wicc’Lord … it was supposed to be the most almighty secret. There never seemed to be any way of making progress with that one but ... what was Lucy’s story? Why was Uncle Mike so evasive about telling her there and then? And what about this self-levitation thing? It just sounded too farfetched. And how was this new partnership with the inspector going to work? Above all, there was the mystery of the location of the grimoire. The key to her asthma and perhaps so much more.
She drew Tempest a little closer to her. She looked out over the newly budding trees of the village and woods around, out over London, out to the West, as though she might sense the ancient magical tome’s presence on the wind.
‘Where is it? This is my toughest puzzle yet. But I have a new friend, a proper police ally now. I have you, I have two wands and three spellbooks. I’m a witch. What’s more, I’m a Cornish witch. Tempest, that book is out there somewhere. And I’m going to find it,’ said Amanda Cadabra.
The End
Coming soon: Inspector Hogarth Investigates – The Strange Case of Lucy Penlowr
Amanda Cadabra and The Hidey-Hole Truth (Book 1 of the series)
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths. I hope you enjoyed your
