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

‘And of course, you’re not.’

‘Thank you!’

‘Till, Saturday.’

‘Till then.’

Amanda hung up and pondered his strange flash of ice. Had someone rapped him over the knuckles for being too something-or-other? Former Chief Inspector Hogarth? She looked at Tempest. He was regarding her with a raised eyebrow.

‘I can’t imagine Uncle Mike doing that. Hm. Whoever could it have been? Well never mind, there’s nothing I can do about it, and I have more important things to consider: the piano.’

Hopefully, Pamela would be out. Amanda was torn between sympathy for the girl and the desire to get on with her work. It seemed to her that Samantha was using Pamela for her own ends. Simon was someone Pamela could talk to, but was that a two-edged sword? She did have Hillers and Humpy, her grandparents. But how well did they understand her?

***

‘It’s very kind of you, Hillers.’

‘Oh pish posh, Amanda, it’s light work, light work,’ insisted Hillers as she picked up the piano action and carried it to the workroom. Humpy toddled along happily in his wife’s wake bearing a small, light tray of stray piano keys and hammers. Hillers plonked down her burden and declared, ‘Must get on the pigeons! Before they colonise the entire attic!’

Humpy stood and watched her stump off down the hall. He sighed with pride.

‘Wonderful, isn’t she? My Amazon!’

Amanda looked at him in surprise.

He returned her gaze and nodded. ‘I remember the first time I saw her. In the woods, swinging an axe.’

‘An axe?’

‘Felling the Christmas tree. Family tradition. Her grandmother was a lumberjill during the war, you know. For the Forestry Commission. Girls with just hand tools.’

‘I didn’t know about that,’ said Amanda, fascinated.

‘Oh yes. So there was Hillers, swinging away and then she looked round and saw me, and called out, “Hand me my canteen, there’s a good chap.” It was her father’s, from his exploration kit. I walked up, and she grinned, all fresh and flushed. I knew at once, don’t you know? At once.’

Amanda was delighted. ‘That’s a charming story, Humpy. And Hillers? Did she feel the same way?’

‘Never thought I’d have a chance with her, weedy chap like me, not a bit athletic, pale, bookish. But she chose me. And we’ve been wonderfully happy ever since. Hillers says she’s the brawn and I’m the brains!’

‘I guess it’s true that opposites attract, then,’ Amanda remarked.

‘Well, I think it’s that we complement one another, like two halves of a sixpence. I think it was meant; we were meant. Not much of a walker but I was out with the dogs because everyone was so busy with Christmas day, y’see.’

‘Ah yes.’

‘You know, she’s awfully fond of you, Amanda. They all are.’

Amanda was pleased but taken aback. ‘But Hillers hardly knows me.’

‘All the same, says you’re her sort of gel.’

‘I am? But I’m asthmatic, and feeble by her standards.’

‘Gumption. You’ve got gumption, she says. And that’s what counts.’

‘Well, I’m glad Hillers feels that way. Thank you, Humpy,’ replied Amanda, turning quite pink with pleasure at so unexpected a tribute.

‘Not at all. Thanks for listening to Pammy, by the way. She’s crossing some heavy ground at the moment. Wish I knew how to help. What to say.’

Amanda had an idea.

‘Tell her your story. Of you and her grandmother.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, really.’

Humpy gave a decisive nod. ‘All right. I shall.’ After a thoughtful pause, he asked, ‘What about you, Amanda. Has anyone found you yet?’

She was thrown into confusion. ‘I – I don’t know … I don’t think ... it’s complicated. I … no… No, not the right person.’

‘They will, you’ll see. I’ll pop orf now. Holler if you want a hand.’ With a grin, he was gone.

If pushed to express an opinion, Amanda would have put Humpy down as a bit of a featherbrain. But now, suddenly, she saw what Hillers saw, had always seen since that first day they met. Hidden depths. So … that was the real Humpy.

Just when you thought you had someone summed up, they surprised you.

Chapter 12

Dinner, and Party Planning

‘There now, little lad,’ Clemo Trelawney advised his six-foot grandson, indicating the chair next to his at the scrubbed wooden table. ‘Just you sit down.’

‘Are you sure Gran Flossie doesn’t want some help?’ asked Thomas, looking towards the kitchen.

‘Oh, she don’t like people fussin’ around her when she’s cookin’, you know that,’ said Clemo, seating his equally tall but somewhat broader frame. It was topped with a short white beard and matching hair, contrasting with the deep tan of his weathered complexion.

As if on cue, Gran Flossie, brown eyes a-twinkle emerged into the dining-room, bearing two loaded plates, in comfortably muscled arms. Thomas, unable to help himself, got up and went to fetch his grandmother’s dinner from the kitchen.

‘Oh, you are a proper gent, our Tom,’ she chuckled. And they set to on squab pie, made with pork and apples, and all of her grandson’s favourite accompaniments.

‘Roast potatoes, parsnips and peas. Gran, you always remember.’

‘So I should hope. It was decided as soon as we heard you were comin’ over.’

‘You’re very kind, Gran. How was the catch today?’

‘Fair to middlin’. The fish wasn’t leapin’ into the nets, but good enough.’

‘Oh ah, good enough,’ agreed Clemo.

Thomas marvelled that his grandmother could still put in a full day out on the fishing boats with her family and still have the energy to cook up a full-scale treat like the one before him. He said so.

‘Sea air, good Cornish genes, and a bit of romance,’ she replied, with a wink at her husband.

‘It certainly works wonders in your case,’ agreed Thomas.

‘Well, how about you, young Tom? Two out of three ain’t bad, as they say. Or am I missin’ some news?’

‘Floss means ‘ow’s your Miss Cadabra?’ clarified his grandfather.

‘Not “my Miss Cadabra” and still the chief witness in the case I am currently investigating,’ Thomas replied patiently, rescuing an errant pea that has suddenly found itself propelled to the very rim of his plate. He caught a