Amanda Cadabra and The Hidden Depths by Holly Bell (best love novels of all time txt) 📕

autobiography.’

‘Balloons!’ cried Mrs Uberhausfest with delight. ‘Yes?’

‘Well, that would be nice,’ responded John eagerly. ‘If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.’

‘Not for nothing am I in the event business.’

‘Oo yes, Irma is “party planner extraordinaire to the over 70s”,’ interpolated Joan.

‘However, I make an exception in your case to include you, even though you are so, so young.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Uberhausfest. I really do appreciate … I mean, I didn’t intend to …’

‘It’s our pleasure,’ Mrs Sharma assured him.

‘But please, remember to keep it …’

‘We understand. Just Village,’ Gordon agreed.

‘And you’re honorary Village, John,’ Mrs Sharma explained.

‘You’re all very kind.’

Ding!

‘Hello Alex,’ came the unified greeting.

‘Hello, luvvies one and all!'

‘There’s going to be a party,’ Joan was the first to say, as she usually was about everything.

‘John’s new autobiography is having a little book release just for the village,’ Amanda elucidated.

‘Well,’ replied Alex enthusiastically, ‘I hope, you’re planning to call on us for help with the finger food!’

‘I wouldn’t dream of passing up the opportunity to include sensational snacks from The Big Tease team,’ smiled John.

‘That’s what I like to hear.’ Alex turned to Mrs Sharma. ‘Have you got —’

‘Your special order allspice.’

‘From Jamaica?’ asked John with interest.

‘Nothing but the best,’ insisted Alex.

‘My grandmother would be pleased to hear you acknowledge that.’

‘It’s well known amongst the baking fraternity.’

‘And sorority,’ added Dennis.

‘Naturally,’ John concurred. ‘My grandmother would be pleased to hear you say that too!’

‘You will be there, won’t you, Amanda, dear?’ asked Mrs Pagely.

'Of course. You can count on it.’

‘Who you bringin’ as your plus-one?’ called Sylvia suggestively. ‘You could ask your inspector, he’s honorary Village too.’

‘He’s not my —’

Mrs Pagely compassionately interposed with a glance towards the floor.

‘What about his illustrious lordship there?’

Tempest shrugged a weary shoulder. His human looked at the librarian gratefully.

‘I’m sure he’ll come if he wants to. I must be off.’

They all made their farewells, and Amanda ushered his ‘illustrious lordship’ out of the shop with a,

‘Phew!’

Chapter 8

A Mother Knows

Even as Amanda exhaled with relief, at escaping the matchmakers in The Corner Shop, the temporary hiatus was interrupted.

‘My dear!’

‘Miss de Havillande?’

‘Just on my way to the shop. I see you’ve just left.’

‘That’s right.’

‘I’m wondering about some flowers. We have put the guests in the best rooms but there may be wet rot in one of them because it smells musty, according to Moffat. Dear Lisa from Skaelheit and Daughters is coming to look at the roof, so I must get back.’

‘I can bring some, Miss de Havillande,’ offered Amanda helpfully.

‘What about your asthma?’ asked Cynthia with concern.

‘I can ask Dale to cover up the flowers, if they’re ones that set it off.’

‘In that case, get something pungent, if you wouldn’t mind.’

‘Freesias?’

‘Splendid. Thank you, dear. I didn’t like to ask.’

Amanda smiled and shook her head. ‘Not at all, Miss de Havillande.’

The lady strode off toward The Corner Shop and Amanda went the few yards in the opposite direction to Youfloric. She anticipated a brief, amiable exchange with the co-owner, who had spotted her approach.

‘Miss Cadabra! What a pleasure.’

Amanda grinned. ‘Hello Dale.’

‘Are you all better now?’ he asked solicitously.

‘Erm …?’

‘You had a nasty asthma attack, I heard.’

‘Oh …’ Of course that was the cover story, Amanda quickly recalled. ‘Yes, I’m much better. Thank you for asking, Dale. And how are you?’

‘Fine. Yes. This is a charming village, everyone has been most kind and supportive, word is getting out and orders are coming in.’

‘I’m glad. How is your mother?’ she enquired politely.

Dale sighed. ‘As well as can be expected, given her Trouble.’

‘Trouble?’

‘With her nerves, you know.’

In Amanda’s experience, people who claimed to suffer from their nerves were possessed of an iron constitution and adamantine will. When Mrs Crankleigh-Vigger, just such a self-proclaimed victim, mercifully departed for Pittenweem, it was rumoured that her neighbours and daughter broke out the champagne. However, Amanda replied civilly,

‘Oh yes, you said, I remember.’

‘I think the countryside air helps though, and being surrounded by beautiful things here in the sh—‘

‘Dale!’ came a robust voice from within.

‘I’m with a customer, Mother!’ he called back calmly.

A lady of ample proportions with an imposing bosom bustled out from inside the shop. She put Amanda forcibly in mind of a seaside cartoon postcard. Aggressively dyed, short dark brown curls bobbed emphatically as she walked out into view.

She inclined her head in Amanda’s direction and pronounced,

‘Ah! There you are. Miss Cadabra isn’t it?’

‘Nice to meet you, Mrs Hilland.’

‘Gillian.’

‘Amanda,’ she responded.

‘What can we do for you this morning, Amanda?’

‘I was just about to ask Dale for some freesias.’

‘Oh yes.’ The lady put her head on one side and gave her knowing look. ‘I expect you’ll want them covered. With your asthma.’

‘Er … yes … you heard?’

‘Naturally, one keeps one’s ear to the ground for any special requirements of one’s customers,’ the lady uttered with overwhelming graciousness.

‘That’s very conscientious,’ Amanda replied courteously.

‘Dale will fetch them for you, won’t you Dale?’

‘I was just about to, Mother,’ he replied patiently, and disappeared into the shop. Mrs Hilland put her head on one side again and enquired,

‘You have your own business, I understand?’

‘That’s right. It was my grandfather’s.’

‘He and your grandmother left you the house and workshop?’

‘Yes.’

‘No other family?’ Mrs Hilland asked pityingly.

‘No.’

‘That must be difficult. A girl alone in the world.’

‘Oh, I’m really not —’

‘No … mother figure.’

‘I really … I —’ Amanda began to protest.

‘I am a Mother. I understand these things.’

She took Amanda’s hand and patted it. Mrs Hilland’s were soft to the point of seeming boneless. She dropped her voice confidentially.

‘I know that we have only just met. But a woman knows instinctively the needs of a girl. You must feel you can always come to me, you know. I feel we are going to be … great friends.’

There was something vaguely disturbing about this speech, and Amanda reclaimed her hand.

‘Thank you, Mrs Hilland, but I assure you I am very far from being or feeling alone. I have an excellent support network of dear, close friends.’

The lady drew herself up and pulled her own hands, pawlike,