The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

green and nasty hanging from her nose? Lifting a hand she brushed it over the tip. She couldn’t feel anything.
    “There’s a rumour going round the village,” having been invited to pry - this was a first; Mrs. Barber actually waiting for an invitation -, she was on it like a wolf on an injured rabbit. “Is it true that you get a regular supply of extracted teeth from a dentist?”
    Meli’s brow formed small creases. “Teeth from a dentist?” She repeated, then her expression eased as it dawned on her what Mrs. Barber might be referring to. “Are you talking about the masks I make?” She watched Mrs. Barber’s expression wobbled comically, like she was chewing on a spring, before settling into one of impending horror. It suddenly seemed odd that it had taken Mrs. Barber so long to find this particular grape on the vine, and had then jumped to conclusions. “I do use teeth,” inwardly she was grinning as she paused fleetingly for maximum effect. “But I make them. I’m not in the habit of dealing in body parts.”
    “What exactly, do you do then?” Mrs. Barber put a lot of emphasis on the first two words, her expression wavering uncertainly again, somewhere between relief and revulsion.
    “It’s how I make a living, making masks. Wooden ones, cast ones, all sorts. It’s a very ancient art, requiring great attention to detail. My grandmother was taught by a master in Africa, and she in turn, passed the art on to me.” Restrained laughter was bouncing around her intestines like a rubber ball. “Perhaps you’d like to pop round some time, and I’ll give you a tour, show you some pictures, and the ones I’m working on now?”
    “Yes, I’d like that.” Despite her intrigue, and the irresistible draw that she would no doubt pick up at least a months worth of gossip about the Noble family, Mrs. Barber still looked horrified, a bit like she’d been invited to have a haircut at Sweeny Todd’s
    “Bring a couple of friends if you like.”
    Mrs. Barber’s turnip head bounced up and down on the rings of lard it rested on. “I usually meet with Mrs. Rushmore and Mrs. Swindon on Wednesday afternoons, maybe we could come Wednesday?”
    “That would be fine. About 2 p.m.?”
    Meli wore a stupid grin on her face all the way home. How bizarre that people in the village had jumped to the conclusion that she used body parts for her masks. What did they think of her? Just the thought of touching someone elses decayed teeth, caused shudders of repugnance to run through her sinews. But in this instance it was giving her an opportunity to socialise within the inner sanctum of locals, an opportunity which would have been denied her at any other time. Tea and scones would be the order of the day.
    As she neared the top of the hill, she glanced down into the valley. David and George were making their way across the field, taking the shortcut to the church. Catching sight of her they waved. She waved back, although she was not happy, as they must have cut through the farm to take that route, despite her warnings to stay clear. She would have words with them later.
    As she swung her eyes back, she noticed something small and dark gliding along the perimeter of some trees. Stopping, she strained to make it out. Was that Elsa? She couldn’t be sure. As if sensing that it, who or whatever it was, was being watched, the figure stopped too, before merging into the green foliage. Meli stood for a while longer, making sure that the boys reached the end of the field without being followed. Thoughtfully, she turned and carried on.
    Cassie had left her a note pinned to the door. Gone into town, it said. No need to guess where to. As soon as she opened the door, Quassi bolted past her, and tail flapping, he raced away, heading for the farm. Meli shook her head. Dogs were worse than kids, at least this one was. She knew that there was no point chasing him or trying to call him back. At least with everyone gone she would have some peace and quiet to get on.
    Popping upstairs to the loo, she passed the door to the boys room, which was open. Pooh, the stench she’d noticed days ago was far more offensive now. Now, if there were flies in here she could have understood it. Despite scouring the room again, she failed to find any Gouda scented socks, or shoes where the soles were steeped in cow dung. Opening the windows, she noticed Elsa outside with Tabby. Elsa was prodding around in a patch of tall weeds and grasses growing