The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

shapes, you know, idle notes.”
    She turned away dismissively as though the pad meant absolutely nothing, and picking up her hair brush began to draw it methodically through her trailing locks. Please, oh please don’t do anything drastic to my precious notes, like throw them in the bin, she began chanting in her head in time with each brush stroke.
    “How many people have you mentioned this to?” he asked, thrusting the offending pad out towards her, his expression resembling that of a severely menopausal woman.
    Meli shook her head, surreptitiously observing his reflection in the chest of drawers mirror. “Well, no one. Do you think I’m mad?”
    “No, but the village will if you start spreading these stupid ideas of yours.” It was with some relief that she watched him hurl the pad onto the bed. “I would suggest that you destroy that, before it causes problems for everyone.” With that, he was gone.
    Meli picked up the A4 pad and spent a moment smoothing out the ruffled pages, and with them, her own ruffled feelings. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he see them for what they were, just innocent ideas and jottings, based on the truth? If he’d hung around long enough she might have told him about the blood in the barn, but he’d blown that now. He could go stick his head in a bucket of sand where it belonged.

    Standing beneath the sculpted boughs of the ancient oak, Meli paused, and gazed out across the stubbled carpet of rabbit cropped grass that spread before her, its limits defined by the distant kennels with their backdrop of black forest. A southerly breeze lifted her hair as it rustled the leaves. They seemed to be whispering feverously to each other. Whispering secrets from long ago as well as from the here and now. They sounded pretty garrulous, reminding her somewhat of the Post Office on pension day. If only she could converse with them, she thought wistfully as she stared up into the dense foliage. They would undoubtedly provide her with so many answers.
    Pushing aside such fanciful notions, she returned her gaze to the kennels. There was an air of despondency emanating from them as they languished in deep shadows, so intense that it reached out and filled the entire enclosure; she could feel it throbbing against her skin, like a slow and irregular heartbeat. They seemed to be in mourning, shocked by the abrupt departure of their rowdy, canine residents. Meli wasn’t sure what had happened to the dogs after the RSPCA had taken them away to be re-homed following Elsa’s death, the general assumption being that they belonged to her, not to this seemingly fictitious Finn. But it was Finn that Meli was hoping to find some clues about down here. Not the dead child, but the stranger who was as mysterious and elusive as Lord Lucan, or Nellie, the Loch Ness Monster.
    She pushed open the gate, cringing as the high pitched squeal of grating metal announced her presence to all and sundry. So much for her furtive recce. Soundlessly, her sandals carried her across the restive compound, and it was with some effort that she resisted the growing urge to check back over her shoulder. She was almost there. Behind her, the gate creaked. That was just too much. She spun round, her heart flipping in her chest, crashing and knocking against her ribcage. It was just the sound of the gate swinging closed.
    The kennels seemed to have been abandoned just as they were, even down to dirty bowls and soiled floors, where hairy, green rugs were sprouting, and growing now in abandon. She would have thought that someone would have cleaned up, although the ultimate plan would probably be to have the whole place flattened in time. She lengthened her strides, heading for the lean-to attached to the furthest end. She hoped that she wasn’t going to be disappointed when she looked inside, and find that it was filled with nothing more than empty promises or more secrets. Reaching it, she paused and quickly scanned the compound and the encircling border of trees. She couldn’t detect anyone watching her.
    Reaching out an unsteady hand, she gave the door a tentative push. It swung open soundlessly, inviting her to enter. With a gulp, she forced both feet to cross the threshold as her eyes flicked around the gloomy interior, checking for any immediate hazards, like lurking assailants. She couldn’t see any. She lifted her eyes upwards, to the wooden roof and its drapery of heavy, thick black cobwebs. Yes, thank you, she