The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

Rushmore; I’m not in any hurry.” Meli decided that she might as well enjoy the moment.
    Mrs. Rushmore, a mere five foot nothing, distracted herself by dunking her arthritic fingers into the jaws of her handbag and began rummaging around. Meli half expected her to pull a rabbit out by its ears. Surreptitiously, she flicked her eyes downwards, trying to peek inside, but all she could see was a coal-black chasm where anything could be lurking. “No, you carry on dear, I’ll be a little while yet.” Mrs. Rushmore said without glancing up.
    Shrugging, Meli moved closer to the counter and gazed down longingly at the assorted cakes. “I’ll take a Chelsea bun please.” Seconds later she was back outside and making her way home. What had they been saying about her? Was she that interesting? She didn’t think so.
    The return journey up the hill was much slower, and Meli made no excuses when she stopped half way to catch her breath, taking the opportunity to lean on the white rail running alongside the road to gaze down into the field which belonged to Brambly Hollow Farm. Idly she watched a family of rabbits nibbling at the wet grass in the distance, before lifting her eyes to search for birds of prey, like sparrow hawks and kestrels, which she ’d sometimes seen hunting here. There were none evident today. Straightening, she unzipped her jacket and continued onwards and upwards. The gradient seemed a little less arduous each time she climbed it, but at the moment it still had the power to turn her legs to mush. Cal would say that was because she had no meat on them.
    Her thoughts locked onto Mrs. Barber ’s revelation about Elsa withdrawing from the sale of the lodge. Why had Elsa changed her mind, she wondered? She was so deeply engrossed in the mystery that she was amazed when she found herself standing by the wooden sign post where the barely legible inscription ‘Brambly Hollow Farm’ was carved into the crumbling wood. Taking the left fork, she followed the sign, her feet nimbly skirting the muddy puddles and craters, some of which were ankle deep. From the lane, the lodge was not signposted at all. She made a mental note to do something about that soon. As her home came into view, Meli’s chest swelled with pride, and she offered up a silent prayer of thanks that Elsa had backed out of any previous commitment to sell, otherwise she wouldn’t be here now.
    Meli had fallen head over heels in love with the lodge the moment her large green eyes had lighted on it. With its slate roof and coarse, creamy-white walls, which were built from freestone extracted from a quarry in the neighbouring village of Beer, she had been enchanted by its charm and character, and the interior had left her gasping with delight. With its low ceilings and beams, window embrasures and cosy corners, it had somehow managed to ooze romance and history, like a Barbara Cartland novel. Walking into the living room had been like slipping her feet into her favourite slippers at the end of a hard day. Absolute luxury.
    That first visit she had gazed into Cal ’s cool-blue eyes beseechingly as she clung to his arm, ignoring the disapproving gleam she could see lurking there, the one that spoke of cold stone walls, damp winters, low claustrophobic ceilings, bad plumbing. She knew he had severe reservations. He had thought she was insane, as she gushed her enthusiasm like a geyser. He hadn’t envisaged moving the family into such a backwater, he’d even been reluctant to view the property at all, after the Estate Agent told them how far away it was from Axminster, where he would be working. But nothing could put her off. She just knew it was the right place, the only place, for her. Even the kids had been amazed. But she had stuck to her guns with unusual forcefulness; after all, it was her inheritance that was financing the move. She quickly elbowed that line of thought from her mind and buried it under a ton of other inconsequential matters.
    As she turned onto the driveway, her footsteps faltered. The front door was ajar. Cautiously she crept towards it, her heart fluttering anxiously in her chest, her eyes scanning the rain-darkened stones, trying to penetrate the nets at the windows to see if some axe murderer or escaped lunatic was lurking inside, waiting to pounce on her. Reaching the door she took a quivering breath, reminding herself sternly that this wasn ’t Reading and there were unlikely to be any bogy men hiding inside.