The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

sprang to Meli’s mind. One of Elsa’s elephantine frame squashed into a frilly French maids outfit, the other of it sprawled along a chaise lounge, the bulbous rings of flesh consuming the lacy straps of her suspenders and g-string and, not forgetting, a fluffy pink bra which would have been big enough to hold at least ten pounds of dripping in each cup. Neither were a pleasant sight. Trying to keep her expression neutral, she focused her thoughts. They settled on Tim’s comments about the love triangle. “And as we all know, nothing much is kept secret in a village,” she prodded when Mrs. Barber remained preoccupied with her own thoughts. Mrs. Barber threw her a guarded look, clearly wondering how much Meli knew. Meli wasn’t sure on the best course of action. She had determined, indeed she was desperate, to find out more, and to do that she would have to probe, but she didn’t want to upset anyone, least of all Mrs. Barber, her new found friend; didn’t want to alert the killer. She stiffened slightly, conscious that she was including Mrs. Barber in that thought. She decided to wait and see what might be offered voluntarily.
    “You know about Bill then?” Mrs. Barber’s eyes glazed over, making them appear brittle, yet somehow vulnerable.
    “A bit.”
    Mrs. Barber averted her gaze, and glanced across to the window, lost in her own thoughts for a moment, her breaths strained, her breasts swelling under her chin like two hippo heads emerging from the murky waters of a river bed. “Elsa must have had a dozen or so flings after Ken left. Nothing too serious though. Nothing that got her into too much trouble, not at first. Not until she set her eyes on Bill.” She paused reflectively. “I know he’s not much to look at now, but back then…” Lifting her cup, her eyes flicked across to the photo, the only sound being the slurp of tea as it was hoovered up between two Mars bar thick lips.
    “Bill was already having an affair with the Countess Vilma Van Gelda,” her tone was venomous. “But that seemed to make him all the more attractive. Not only could she take him away from his wife, but also from a mistress. That would really prove her worth. Wasn’t long before the whole village and his dog knew what was going on. She made sure of that.” Her hands began to tremble, sending breakers of tea crashing over onto the saucer, pooling over to soak into the remaining biscuits before staining the pink nylon a watery brown. “But after a while, Bill saw sense, saw what Elsa was up to, so he finished that particular affair. It was just after that that Gelda, had her accident.” There was no hint of compassion to her tone.
    Meli’s eyes were straining from their sockets as she sat perched on the edge of her seat. She could barely believe her good fortune that Mrs. Barber was spurting information freely like a fractured water main. She felt bitterly disappointed then when silence fell, and in her head, she was urging her to continue. Constraining herself for a moment, she finished her own tea. “What happened? What kind of accident was it?” She eventually dared to prompt.
    Mrs. Barber lifted a pair of heavy eyes from where they were dangling solemnly in the dregs of her tea. “A car accident. Her brakes failed, and she drove off the edge of the road and down a steep embankment. Spinal injuries. That was in eighty-eight. Spent seven months in hospital, and will spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair. But enough about me,” Mrs. Barber said, easing her weighty feet from the table and dropping them down onto the floor. “How are those boys?” Gone was the gushing water main, replaced by the sponge like persona who was more used to gleaning information than sharing it.
    Accepting defeat graciously, knowing that Mrs. Barber would expertly bat away any further questions relating to the past, Meli found herself relaying the tale of the sandwiches and the flies, which Mrs. Barber found highly amusing; as would the whole village no doubt. It was good to hear her laugh again. Mrs. Barber sobered suddenly, noticing the time. Picking up her cup, she drained the last drops of tea down her throat, which must have been cold by then, and returned the two uneaten but tea sodden biscuits, to the plate.
    “The others will be here soon. Must get changed.” Meli realised that she must be referring to Mrs. Rushmore and Mrs. Swindon and their Wednesday at two get together. She didn’t invite Meli to stay, so