The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

Meli settled, she found herself avoiding the dark, inscrutable eyes of Bill. He was looking at her in his usual hostile way. Anyone would think that she had forced herself on them, not been invited.
    “It wasn’t very pleasant,” she agreed, giving a insipid, wine heavy smile, hoping that her bladder would hold out for a few minutes longer.
    “Do the police know what happened?” Vilma’s frail fingers were like barbed wire as they encircled her wrist.
    “No, not yet, but I get the impression they think it was an accident.” Unable to stop herself, Meli swung her eyes to glare back at Bill, who had the grace to look away. What was up with the man? Was he born with that sour lemon in his mouth? Meli tried not to take it personally. Rising to his feet he scurried away to the bar like the scrawny rat he resembled.
    “I know Elsa wasn’t the nicest person, but well, we did have an affinity, both being of good German stock. We used to be friends, but that was such a long time ago.” Vilma’s crystal blue eyes glazed over.
    “What happened?” Meli pounced on this stupendous revelation, but as soon as she spoke it broke the spell, and the faraway look vaporized into thin air.
    “Oh, you know, the usual,” Vilma replied, trying to sound flippant, which was at complete odds with the sigh that jarred her body, seeming to tear right through to her soul. Meli certainly didn’t know what the usual was, and shook her head vigorously, only to receive one of those annoying condescending smiles that older people gave to younger people when they considered them far too immature to possibly comprehend the intricacies of something: in this case a complex feud that had lasted so many years and caused so much bitterness. When Vilma’s eyes clouded over, Meli thought she was going to cry, then with an infinitesimal hardening of her lips, the Countess pulled herself together, but it was an effort, and Meli clearly saw the way her fingers dug into the arms of her wheelchair as painful memories flashed before her eyes, like stills from an old black and white movie. This time, Meli remained silent, and it worked.
    “We used to go dancing together,” Vilma rambled off on a tangent of her own, her voice dipping. Meli strained to catch every word above the noise in the bar. “That was where I met…” Bill arrived at that moment, somehow managing to dive between them. Meli was struck by how rude he was. Knowing that the moment had been well and truly curdled by his obnoxious presence, she excused herself and rising to her feet she carried on through to the toilet, being stopped half a dozen times as locals she had never spoken to before stopped her to ask about what happened. When she came back, Vilma and Bill had gone, their drinks untouched.
    “That was quite some conversation with the Countess,” Cal commented.
    “I expect she had a lot to say about Elsa,” Tim countered. “No love lost between them.” He took a sip of brandy; it seemed that having one at the lodge had given him a taste for it tonight as he’d forgone his usual tipple of Guinness. Or maybe he thought that the occasion required something more special? “Such a shame that they both fell for the same man.” Meli was beginning to wish that she had a secret tape recorder hidden on her somewhere as there was just so much information to take in. She regretted having had so many wines on top of the brandy, as the resulting haze in her head was seriously hampering her holding capacity. When Cal went to say something, she dug her elbow sharply in his ribs to shut him up. Tim obviously thought she knew a lot more than she did, and she didn’t want to dissuade him, in case he decided to be more discreet.
    “I think Elsa always thought that Bill would go back to her after the Countess’ accident, but it seemed to drive him into her arms more than ever. Then of course, there was Marigold. Talk about a love triangle.” His head began shaking sorrowfully, but with such ferocity that Meli was seriously concerned that the action might act like a hang-mans noose, and snap his neck cleanly in half, preventing him from revealing any more of this hot, juicy gossip.
    “Who’s Marigold?” The words popped from Meli’s lips before she could stop them.
    Abruptly, Tim’s head came to a full stop so he could regard her, his brows drawing down in the middle until they formed a perfect V. “Marigold? Why, Mrs. Barber of course. Didn’t you know?” His thin lips