‘I don’t know what to say, Miss Armstrong-Witworth.’
‘I know it’s a bit knocked about in places, but our dear Amanda can soon put that to rights for you. Oh, and it’s made in three parts, so it’s not as difficult as it might look to move it. What do you think? Is it a yes?’
Thomas laughed, still bemused.
‘It’s a yes, please, ma’am, and how can I thank you?’
‘Oh, I think Sunken Madley owes you enough and more. This is only a little token of our appreciation.’
He shook his head as though still in disbelief.
‘Well, thank you again. I’m rather at a loss for words, as you can tell.’
Gwendolen smiled at him kindly, quite pink with pleasure.
‘Nothing that another nice cup of tea and perhaps a slice of Victoria Sandwich won’t help to remedy, my dear Inspector. I’ll keep your desk here until you’re ready for it. Why don’t you bring Amanda to see it, in the meantime?’
‘I most certainly shall!’ In fact, uncharacteristically as he would have thought, he had the urge to tell Miss Cadabra almost immediately.
‘Good. That’s all settled then. Shall we return to our refreshments?’
‘Yes. Thank you.’ Gwendolen preceded him out of the room. Thomas took a last glance around, to see a man perched on the edge of the desk. He had a grey pointed beard, round spectacles, a gentle face, and was nodding and smiling. Trelawney turned away with a frown.
No, he thought. I must have imagined that. Or ....
‘Miss Armstrong-Witworth, do you have any photos of your father?’
‘Why yes, many. There’s one over here. Here he is, in the hall.’ She gestured to a medium-sized sepia photograph. Thomas drew near, inspected it and raised his eyebrows. Gwendolen glowed.
‘Oh good, you saw him sitting on the desk. I’m so pleased.’
‘He, er?’
‘Oh yes, he still pops in from time to time. Mamma too. As I say, it was all his idea. He said he would like you to have it.’
‘Right,’ managed Trelawney.
Gwendolen chuckled kindly. ‘I quite understand. He’s only the third dea— transitioned person you’ve seen in everyday life, I’m guessing. Don’t worry, dear Inspector, you’ll get used to it!’
Chapter 57
Another Revelation, and Questions
At the same time as Thomas was receiving his present at The Grange, Amanda was on the verge of another flash of enlightenment. She was staring out at the garden, thinking back over her trip to Cornwall. The man in the Koffiji Café and his daughter came back to her mind: more the man’s presence than his features. Amanda wasn’t good with faces. Yes … his pres—
‘Oh!’ She spun round. ‘Tempest!’ He kept his eyes closed but raised his chin so she would know that she had succeeded in disturbing his nap. ‘I know what it was about him: he reminds me of Grandpa!’ She came away from the window and looked into the air, calling for Perran.
He appeared holding a plate of jam doughnuts.
‘Yes, bian? You all right?’
‘Yes, thank you. Grandpa. He’s a Cadabra, isn't he? The man in the café with the daughter. Yes?’
Perran chuckled.
‘Well done, bian,’ he raised a doughnut in salute and bit into the warm, soft, sweet roll until the jam oozed out of the centre, in the essence of deliciousness. Granny had long since pronounced the ring doughnut to be the work of nefarious forces and refused to have them in the house.
‘Oh and he knew who I was and he talked to me,’ responded Amanda, tears starting in her eyes. ‘He didn’t hold it against me for you running off with Grandma.’
‘Why would anyone hold that against you, pet? You weren’t exactly there at the time,’ he said teasingly. ‘Here now. Your mascara’s all over your face. Have a tissue. And blow your nose.’ Nevertheless, Grandpa smiled understandingly.
Amanda took his advice, then looked at him, still aglow.
‘Now then, bian, I don’t mean you can go knocking on their door.’
‘No, no, of course not,’ Amanda responded, a little subdued.
‘Let them come to you.’
‘Do you think they will?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Well now ... it looks like they already have!’
Thomas dropped in to tell Amanda about his new desk. Somehow he could hardly wait to share it with her. How odd.
‘Oh, but how wonderful! Tea to celebrate?’ Amanda took his unexpected arrival as a sign. Thoughtfully, she made the drinks. Bringing in the tray, she asked, ‘So have you found any possible locations for the equivalent of your thinking beach run?’
‘Not yet. Plenty of time. Thank you,’ Thomas added, receiving mug and shortcake from her.
‘I only ask,’ said Amanda, sitting down on the edge of the sofa, ‘because I have a place I go when I want to think. It’s rather unusual, high up, and we — Tempest and I — like to go there for picnics. But I don’t own it. You can use it too.’
‘Thank you. Perhaps you’d take me up there some time,’ Thomas replied, sensing that this was quite a concession and he should respectfully wait to be escorted.
‘Of course.’
But not yet, thought Amanda. Not quite yet. She wanted it all to herself just one more time.
It was Sunday, and the weather was fine enough for a picnic. Amanda parked near the library, and she and Tempest had begun the short to walk to their destination, when their progress was halted by a familiar and much-loved voice.
‘Amanda!’ She turned to see her friend, Mrs Pagely, the librarian, hurrying towards her, waving a slender book. Amanda turned back to meet and greet her.
‘Hello, my dear,’ said Mrs Pagely. ‘So nice to have you back. I don’t want to hold you up, but I did think you might like this. It’s a
