The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

crashing around, getting ready, Meli phoned the Police Station. She was put through to PC Holster. She quickly updated him. They had a good laugh together at the nights revelations, although her shallow humour drained from her face the instant she put the receiver down. She still had a problem quite believing it was over.
    Armed with swimwear and towels, inflatable lidos and sun cream, they drove over to Exmouth. Parking the car, they had a quick game of pitch and putt, before grabbing their gear and making their way along the sea front, heading for the sandy beach. It was a beautiful morning, the cloudless azure sky merging on the horizon with the matching blue of the sea. The beach was already busy, but that didn’t stop them enjoying a couple of hours making sandcastles, sunbathing and swimming in a gently rocking ocean. After this they dried and dressed and wandered into town for lunch. Over their meal, Meli told them about Quassi’s behaviour during the night, and Cal’s theory (Meli couldn’t quite take ownership of this), that he was the unknown thief. The boys were visibly excited when Meli enlisted their help in trying to catch him in the act.
    Despite applying sun cream, Meli was feeling slightly singed around the edges as they pulled out of the car park. Turning her face into the salty breeze blowing through the open windows, she was enjoying its coolness against her burning cheeks, when David asked.
    “Mum, what is happening with Finn?”
    Meli locked her gaze on the bumper of the car in front, before giving him a quick glance. “In what way?”
    “Has he done anything wrong?”
    “Well, I guess not,” she answered slowly, wondering where this conversation was headed, still niggled by concerns like: who was this man? What did he want with her children?
    “Does that mean we can still see him?”
    Meli didn’t answer at first. Her guts were still fuelled by fears about this non person, who only seemed to have any existence in the eyes, minds and voices of her sons. “We’ll have to speak to dad about that,” she eventually told him, throwing him a comforting smile. “It might help if we could meet him?” She felt, rather than saw, her son’s body stiffen as though encased in a hazelnut shell. He gave a small shake of his head.
    “Finn likes to stay away from people.”
    “Why’s that?” Meli stared straight ahead, pedestrians flickering passed in quick succession as the car picked up speed, trying to keep her voice neutral.
    Again the little shake of the head. There was no other response. She glanced at George in the rear view mirror. Although he was trying to give every impression of not being involved, she could almost see his ears flapping. They were all quiet for the rest of the journey home.

    Rushing into the garden before the brackish clouds emptied their bloated bellies all over her nearly dried washing, Meli happened to glance in the direction of the farmhouse. It suddenly struck her, that she hadn’t seen Elsa for days now, not even driving passed in her van. That was strangely disconcerting, especially as she had still been feeling that eyes were watching her. She jumped when something tickled the skin on her calves. It was Tabby, who was yet another enigma. For the last two days Tabby had been hanging around the lodge. Not her usual fleeting visits, but for hours on end; sitting on windowsills, curled up on the wall, meowing in a most plaintive way. It almost seemed like she was craving companionship.
    “Where’s your mistress?” She asked Tabby as she stooped down and ran her hand along the long knobbly spine, which felt remarkably like Mrs. Rushmore’s. Arching her back, Tabby opened her mouth, exposing her yellow teeth and made a noise that sounded like she said ‘don-know’. Every one of her senses told Meli that something was wrong, and despite her reservations, she was drawn down the cow weary path, leaving her basket of washing on the kitchen table. As she walked, heavy pellets of rain began falling around her, creating a rapid series of light tapping sounds as they pounded the dry, cracked earth, splattered against the leaves of the trees and bushes that lined her route. After the heat wave of the last five days, it was a pleasure to lift her face, and welcome the feel of the cool rain on her skin.
    The farmhouse came into view. Glancing right, she checked whether the van was parked in its usual place. It was, so Elsa couldn’t be far away. The farmhouse