Amanda looked over her shoulder at the glue pot, and said,
‘Mecsge ynentel.’ And the brush began to stir. She looked at the saw. ‘Ahiewske.’ At once, it began its to and fro motion. ‘Rutstric ynentel.’ The sandpaper began to smooth away. The air filled with the scent of sandalwood and the taste of tin: the smell of magic.
She smiled. The blue in her eyes began to turn to brown. Amanda sighed contentedly.
‘I’m home.’
Chapter 53
Department 14
The following day, Amanda was invited over to The Grange. Not to work, but just for a catch-up. Surprisingly, Miss de Havillande, whom she usually dealt with regarding restoration work, was absent. However, Amanda was greeted by Cynthia’s bosom friend, Miss Gwendolen Armstrong-Witworth.
Amanda was taken into the small salon, and Moffat, the self-styled ‘butler’, but in reality the de facto manager of the estate, served them tea and hot buttered crumpets.
‘Are you quite recovered, my dear?’ Miss Armstrong-Witworth enquired gently.
‘Oh? Er ....’
‘Yes, I’ve been hearing over the wire how splendidly you did on Bodmin Moor.’
‘Really?’
‘Dear Michael.’
‘Gwendolen … have you known Uncle Mike for a long time? I mean, from when you worked for … in Whitehall?’
‘You could say that. More butter?’
‘Please. But I thought people from other departments didn’t talk to the one his father, Sir Philip ran.’
‘True. But you see, I didn’t always work for MI6.’
‘No?’
‘Eat your crumpet while it’s hot, dear. After the unfortunate assassination attempt I told you about. Well, it was my failure and consequently my fall. I was disgraced and —’
‘Oh!’ Amanda’s eyes grew into saucers as the penny dropped. The half-eaten crumpet fell from her fingers to her plate. ‘It was you. Wasn’t it? Back then. Of course, it all makes sense! Gwendolen. G. G.G. Aunt Gigi! I’m right, aren’t I?’
Miss Armstrong-Witworth laughed.
‘All my secrets are coming out.’
But Amanda was looking at her intently.
‘Except ... you’re more than that now .... I mean more than just someone who worked there.’
‘Oh?’ Gwendolen asked impishly.
Amanda followed her train of thought aloud.
'Department 14 .... There’s no office in Whitehall anymore.’
‘No, indeed. It was deemed inappropriate. Especially when you know why it was called Department 14.’
‘Why was it?’ Amanda asked curiously.
‘Whitehall humour. Fourteen ... Fortean: unexplained phenomena, the paranormal, the supernatural.’
‘As in the magazine?’ Amanda asked with an amazed smile. ‘Fortean Times?’
‘Exactly, my dear.’
‘Uncle Mike said it was squeezed out of Whitehall on account of being called all about voodoo. But just because it didn’t have an office there any more doesn’t mean ... Department 14 still exists ... doesn’t it?’
Gwendolen was regarding Amanda with bright eyes and her head tilted to one side like an interested, amused little bird.
‘Since you’ve got that far, I think it’s only fair to let you in on another little secret. Hmm yes ... it’s time. Come with me.’ Gwendolen placed her china teacup and saucer on the silver tray and stood up. Amanda put her crumpet plate down too and followed Miss Armstrong-Witworth, agog to know where she was to be taken.
Gwendolen led the way to the small dining-room where Amanda had her temporary workshop when working at the Grange. The furniture there had been pushed to the edges of the room and protected by Holland covers. One of these large, white cloths hid a tall, narrow, Victorian, mahogany display cabinet, which Miss Armstrong-Witworth now unveiled.
Amanda peered through the glass front as though seeking for some significant treasure on the shelves. Mostly it was crammed with books, but at the right-hand end of one shelf, at about elbow height, was an ordinary-looking plaster bust of Michelangelo’s David.
Gwendolen reached in and deftly gave it a twist to the left. It must have released a catch of some sort. For now, with a light shove of her hand, it swung out, revealing an opening in the floor and steps leading down.
Amanda stared, speechless, in astonishment.
‘It’s quite safe, dear.’ Gwendolen assured her. ‘There’s a light switch on the right. That’s it. Hold on to the rail at the side.’ Amanda gingerly took the stairs. Miss Armstrong-Witworth followed behind, pulled a lever in the wall and the entrance swung shut over their heads. ‘Keep going,’ she called out cheerily.
‘Good gracious, Gwendolen, I had no idea this was here,’ Amanda marvelled. ‘It isn’t on the plans of the house that I’ve seen.’
‘No, that’s true, dear. A small addition that no one needs to be troubled with.’ At the bottom of the steps was a door. Gwendolen came to Amanda’s side, unlocked it, ushered in her guest and turned on the light. ‘Just a simple little space: good illumination, a desk, a desktop computer, a laptop, an old-fashioned radio, and some more modern equipment.’
Amanda drew a sharp breath of surprise. For there, on the wall opposite, hung a map. A map studded with coloured pins.
Chapter 54
M, Q, and Kindly Advice
‘Ah yes, and as you see, on the wall ... a map.’
‘Brown pins!’
‘Just so.’
Amanda suddenly stood still; her lips parted in an O.
‘Not jeans ... G. I know what Uncle Mike was saying when we drove off. Not “Ammy quells jeans” but “M equals G”! Because you’re “M”. You are the head of Department 14, aren’t you Gwendolen? You run it. From here, from Sunken Madley, from The Grange. You have for years. Haven’t you?’
‘Well, I don’t know about “run it”. We’re more of a cooperative, you know, my dear. There are many fingers in this pie. But I like to think I do my bit.’ Miss Armstrong-Witworth went to the desktop computer, tapped a few keys and appeared to be checking something on the screen. Amanda was still processing these revelations.
‘Sunken Madley. Department 14. It was here all along.’
‘Not always, but it’s ended up here. For
