The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

excellent.” His lips turned up into a beaming smile.
    Ten minutes later, Meli was back downstairs. She had changed into a flowing skirt, of delicate wedgwood blue, broken by a crazy pattern of cream coloured blobs, and an embroidered pearly-white blouse. There was no sign of Cass, and her dinner was still sitting in the microwave. Clearing the boys’ plates and cutlery, she began piling it into the dishwasher, teeth gritted, trying not to let Cass get to her. Until about a year ago they had been so close, something Meli had been very proud of; these days, however, it seemed that her daughter’s prime function in life was to cause her grief.
    She was conscious that someone had come in behind her. Glancing over her shoulder she saw that it was Cass. “How was your day?” she forced herself to speak, in an attempt to make conversation.
    “ Okay.” Cassie set the timer.
    “ How’s school?”
    “ Okay.”
    Meli straightened and slammed the door of the dishwasher shut. She was sure that if Cass tried really hard she might manage to excel herself and string five words together. For no rational reason that she could determine, she felt her temperature rising. Picking up the kettle, she crashed it on the worktop for good measure, just in case her daughter had missed the slamming dishwasher door. Cass ignored her. Meli chewed on her lip for a moment, before her face suddenly lit up like fairy lights. “Oh, by the way, I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” she told the back of her daughter’s head as she removed her plate from the microwave when the timer pinged to announce that the two minutes were up. “When we leave in the mornings, can you please make sure that you close the front door properly.”
    The accusation brought a reaction. Cass spun round and fixed a pair of narrowed, blue eyes at her. “What are you talking about?” she asked, suddenly finding the will to expand her vocabulary.
    “ This morning, you left the door open.”
    “ I didn’t,” Cass protested indignantly.
    “ Yes, you did,” Meli pressed. “When I got home I nearly had a heart attack. The plumber and his son had let themselves in when they found the door ajar. I thought they were burglars.” She didn’t mention the bit about axe murderers; the notion would sound far too melodramatic.
    “ I don’t give a toss what you think, it damn well wasn’t me.” Cass was facing her mother like a hissing goose with its neck arched defiantly, the hot plate gripped tightly in a tea towel between her white knuckled fingers.
    Cal came down the stairs at that moment, his short damp hair gathered into tight little tepees against his scalp, although it would only take moments before it dried and sprung back into its usual downy covering. “What’s that about burglars?” he asked.
    “ Well, you were the last one out of the house this morning.” Meli wasn’t going to let up, she was on firm ground.
    No one answered Cal.
    “I closed the door. Do you think I’m stupid?” Cassie’s rotund face turned a shade of crimson, her lips compressed into two angry slashes across the lower half of her face as she slapped her plate onto the table, sending gravy and vegemince sprawling across the tabletop.
    David and George, who had been glued to the T.V. and the computer game they were playing, their fingers lunging wildly across the control pads while two prize-fighters exchanged violent blows on the screen, suddenly paused their game and turned their attention to the kitchen where mum and sister were locked like two sparring Amazons preparing for battle.
    Meli was conscious that the whole family were witness to this now, and she wouldn’t have been surprised if she saw Elsa’s face pressed to the window, alongside Mrs. Barber’s. Inside her head, she became aware of an odd scraping sound. It took her a moment to realise that it was the sound of her own grating teeth.
    “ Melissa.” Cal’s firm voice, together with the full and rare use of her Christian name, had the same effect as stuffing a parrot in her mouth, effectively choking back the tongue-lashing that was about to spring from her lips. Her fiery eyes darted across to look at her husband, and she clearly saw the warning shake of his head. He was right; this was getting out of hand. She swallowed her irrational annoyance, almost gagging on the coarse wing feathers as the parrot was forced down her throat.
    “ Look, it’s okay, I’m not having a go, we all make mistakes. I’m only