The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

further by falling flat on her bum.
    “How did you get in?” she demanded again, swinging round to face the plumber when her feet reached safe ground. She was feeling braver by the second as her initial terror subsided, replaced by a growing sense of righteous indignation at the scare they’d given her.
    “ The door was open; we thought you’d left it that way for us. Didn’t we?” He conferred with his son, who probably nodded, but as all Meli could see of Swindon Junior were the tips of his trainers, she couldn’t be sure.
    Her eyes creased beneath lowering brows as she watched Dick hook his thumbs nonchalantly into his braces as he returned her gaze through a pair of steady grey-brown eyes. Was the man stupid? Didn ’t he have any notion that he’d scared her to within an inch of having a major coronary?
    Not wearing braces herself, Meli did the next best thing and thrust her thumbs into the front pockets of her jeans as she glared back at him. “Well, I didn’t leave it open for you. Why would I? You weren’t due here until later this morning. It would be a bit stupid of me to leave my home unlocked with no one in now, wouldn’t it?”
    One eyebrow nudged upwards a fraction, before quickly dropping back into place when he saw a fresh wave of fury cross her face. She bit her tongue. She had just declared herself stupid in his eyes, as without doubt the door must have been left open. She resisted the urge to stamp her feet before hurling herself onto the floor and throwing a paddy on the carpet. Under the intensity of her scrutiny he lowered his eyes and studied the lengths of copper pipes around his feet. He was embarrassed, she realised. Embarrassed by her behaviour, not by his own actions. The man was intolerable.
    “ Is it okay to carry on now? We’ve got a lot to get through today, haven’t we Tony?” His polite tone made the hairs on her back bristle as his eyes slid upwards and leveled with hers again. Meli restrained her fingers, which were just itching to pick up a length of pipe and beat him senseless with it. All she trusted herself to do was nod, before spinning on her heels and striding away, heading for her only sanctuary, the kitchen. Within seconds the stone walls were filled with the sound of crashing and banging, and it had nothing to do with the two men working upstairs. In her anger, Meli was slamming drawers and cupboards as she tackled the monstrous task of clearing away the breakfast clutter, each time imagining Dick Swindon’s head and sticky out ears were being pummeled and crushed in the process. Her cheeks burned red. No doubt news of her bizarre behaviour would feed the village grapevine for weeks, if not years to come. She’d probably be labelled the Village Idiot.

Chapter 3

    Burnt out, having rampaged through the kitchen like a bushfire, Meli stood back and inspected her handiwork. The kitchen was spotless. It was amazing how a spate of indignation and anger could be channelled into a frantic burst of spit and polish that otherwise would be unachievable. It was a pity it couldn’t be bottled; it would make someone a fortune. Despite this quirky sense of satisfaction, Meli still felt pent up. Opening the French door, she slipped out into the garden. She would have words with Cassie tonight. There was no excuse for not closing the door properly; it was so careless of her. Standing in the shade on the patio she shivered, as a cool westerly wind snatched strands of hair and tried to flick them in her eyes. Ignoring its bothersome antics, she absently reached up and drew her jumper tighter around her neck. She stood that way for a moment, gazing blankly across the lawn towards the tall wall of Leylandii that separated them from their neighbour, lost in thought. Suddenly her skin began to prickle, alerting her that she was being watched.
    Her neck jerked round to the right. Elsa Vitty was standing on the track that ran passed the lodge on its way to the farmhouse, staring at her over the hedge. Meli shuddered, wondering how long Elsa had been watching her, and why. Forcing herself to be neighbourly, Meli raised her hand and gave the old woman a friendly wave. In return, Elsa lifted her walking stick over her head and thrashed it in the air in an alarming imitation of a dumpy Zulu warrior thirsting for blood. Fortunately, the effort of maintaining the gesture quickly became too much and the spear reverted back to its alternative use, as a walking aid. Meli almost