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

balls, when the floor was filled with the people she loved. As well as Claire and Dr Patel, the inspector and Pamela, there was Joan dancing with Mr Sharma, Mrs Sharma elegantly helping Alex with his steps, Miss de Havilland and Joe the milkman, Sandy and Neeta, Sylvia and Dennis, Pavel and Gwendolen, Ruth’s mother, Esta Reiser and Erik, Amanda’s solicitor and Kieran’s father, Ruth and Kieran themselves, the only minors privileged to receive an invitation, executing a much-practiced chassée with precision. And there were other more shadowy forms: a man and woman from the 1930s perhaps, what might have been a Regency Frenchman and his partner, and of course, Granny and Grandpa.

Amanda heart swelled. Suddenly she felt an arm around her waist and smelled an unmistakable scent. She turned to see the rapturously beautiful face of Jessica James, close beside her.

‘Hello, angel,’ said The Ice Queen, supermodel, village belle, and daughter to Irene of The Elms.

‘Jessica, glad you could make it,’ smiled Amanda, giving her a careful hug, so as not to disturb her flawless makeup and coiffure. ‘You’re looking very fine indeed.’

‘Thanks. You too. But this is a flying visit. I have to be at a do by 11. Just wanted to see Pamela in action.’

‘You’ve done a fabulous job. She’s so happy, anyone can see.’

‘You know, I really enjoyed it. I mean, really. Using what comes naturally to me after all these years to see her so … transformed.’

‘I think, before you leave, you should go over to Claire and tell her what you’ve just told me,’ Amanda suggested merrily. ‘I think you may both be the answer to one another’s prayers.’

‘What?’

‘The modelling exit strategy you need and the meaningful project Claire needs.’

‘Sorry? I’m all at sea.’

‘Doing something you clearly love and have an aptitude for, Jessica,’ elucidated Amanda. ‘No one is doing a makeover show for teenagers. Especially not with a supermodel.’

‘Oh my goodness … You really think Claire might be interested?’

‘Jessica, I think the chances are excellent.’

‘Thank you, darling.’ A quick perfumed kiss on Amanda’s cheek, a swirl of black bob and she was gone.

‘Amanda?’ came sheepish tones from beside her.

‘Ryan, good evening. Are you enjoying the party?’

‘Yes, but …’

‘I imagine you and your family are still feeling the relief from all you’ve been through.’

‘Of course, we are … look, I never apologised to you properly. I know I gave the impression that I … we … I’ve always liked you, you know. Really. Not just because I was being … trying to get … information. I didn’t mean to …’

This blundering speech, so far from Ryan’s usual smooth manner, propelled her into inappropriate giggles.

‘Oh please, Ryan, it’s quite all right. I promise you, my heart is more than intact!’

‘I’m glad, and again I’m so very, very sorry and I’m hoping that now we can honestly be friends.’

‘That’s very good of you but, you know, it’s not like you had a choice. There truly is no blame here except on the Flamgoynes. But that’s all over now. Yes, indeed: friends. And we have Cornwall in common now. Although, I thought Gordon French said you were born in Portsmouth.’

‘I was born in Plymouth. People often get them confused.’

‘The Cornish side?’ asked Amanda.

‘No, I regret to say, the less romantic side.’

‘No crime in that.’

‘Indeed. So really … friends?’

She laughed at his anxious puppy expression. ‘Really. Friends.’

Ryan smiled for the first time that evening, held out his hand and they shook on it.

At the same time, Trelawney was being presented with an equally sheepish John Bailey-Farrell.

‘Inspector, I know this isn’t the time or the place, but could we step into the hall?’

‘Of course, John. In fact, I’m sure Miss Cadabra won’t mind if we use her onsite workshop,’ replied Trelawney, and led the way to the small dining-room. Once in seclusion, Bailey-Farrell launched into speech.

‘I had to tell you something, Inspector. I feel dreadful for not telling you when you interviewed me, but it just would have … looked … and it really had nothing to do with it …’

‘Please tell me, John. I did think at the time that you were holding something back. I suspected equally that it was something not necessarily relevant. It’s good of you to want to tell me now.’

Encouraged, John slowed down and spoke the awful truth.

‘Samantha did say something to me that I didn’t mention. You see … my book … well, it’s not really my book … that is … I had a ghost writer, only the publicity machine told me not to say. Only Samantha was so much on the inside of the whole team thing that she found out somehow. When she came to say hello, she whispered in my ear that she knew.’

‘I see. As a matter of interest, what did she say?’

‘Erm … “Oh, all your own work, hey? Not going to give up the ghost?” She looked at me sort of challengingly and seductively then she went off. I’m sure it was just more of her nonsen— well … not to speak ill of the dead …’

‘Thank you, John. What would have happened if the information had become public?’ enquired Trelawney.

‘It would have lowered my profile a few points and I expect I’d have got a rap over the knuckles if the PR people thought I was the one who’d leaked it. But not enough for me put Samantha out of the picture, for goodness sake.’

‘Understood. I’m glad you cleared that up, anyway. Well done, John. By the way,’ added the inspector, changing to a lighter subject, ‘have you danced with Pamela, our debutante?’

‘No, but I shall. Now I’ve got that off my chest, I feel like dancing!’

Having executed a not-too-ambitious rumba with Ryan, Amanda was back in her seat, once more watching the happy throng.

‘Enjoying yourself, my dear?’ asked a new voice. Amanda turned and was pleased to see her current client seated beside her.

‘Yes, thank you, Miss de Havillande. Oh, I hope Tempest hasn’t been bothering Natasha.’

‘No, he’s transferred his attention to bothering