The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

with laughter, the amorous couple froze until they heard the window snap shut, then Cal gallantly helped Meli to button up her shirt, before they made their escape from the garden, their reputations unscathed. Taking her hand in his, Cal tugged her towards home at full steam.
    Meli’s libido flopped to the ground like a flat Yorkshire pudding, when she saw a downstairs light glaring into the darkness. How could they get passed the kids without delay, before the sizzling passion died a wasteful death? Cal, however, was not going to be thwarted. Still holding her hand he pulled her to the studio. Meli’s teeth flashed in a burst of moonlight as they slipped inside, thanking her lucky stars that she’d forgotten to lock it earlier. The day might have started with a sputter, but it certainly ended with a bang.

    Meli floated up through a multi layered, sweet scented bed of rose petals the next morning. Unlike yesterday, she woke with a feeling of pure joy, free from the chains of misery that had been slowly choking the life from her. Her expression melted like hot treacle at the memory of their risqué escapades in the studio last night, which was definitely no longer virginal. Her eyes glinted impishly. Sex was the best pick-you-up in the whole universe; it was stupendous, exhilarating, breath-stopping. She stretched out into the four corners of the bed and then holding her breath she sank her teeth into the quilt to prevent herself from screaming her euphoria out loud. When she began to feel deliciously giddy from lack of oxygen, she sucked in air between her teeth, then, unlocking her jaw, she blew it out, allowing her whole body to float pleasantly for a moment.
    The alarm began to bleep, the sound striking the delicate lining of her skull with tortuous regularity, hinting that she might be in for a hang-over. Refusing to believe that her perfect awakening could be spoiled by such a thing, she shut off the infernal racket with a well aimed jab of her fingertip. Instantly, peace and quiet was restored. Allowing her eyelids to flop down over her eyes, she lay back against the soft padding of her pillows. Last night, as they prepared for bed, she had tried to explain to Cal about her life changing encounter with Amy yesterday. Cal had listened intently, feigning his understanding with about as much conviction as the expression on the face of a cadaver lying on a slab in the mortuary. Cal didn’t believe in anything supernatural. If you couldn’t see, touch, smell, hear or eat it, it didn’t exist. At any other time she’d had shot him down with one scathing look. But somehow, on this occasion, Meli didn’t mind a bit. It was enough that she knew what had happened; Cal had just seemed pleased that she’d been given the kick up the backside that she needed.
    With a burst of vigour she threw back the covers and leaped from the bed, only vaguely aware of the mild throbbing sensation that lurked beneath the top of her skull that passed for a headache. She was too elated to notice. Dragging on her dressing gown she flew through the top floor of the house, waking the kids with cheerful salutations and then hurried downstairs for her breakfast. As she tucked into her muesli Cal appeared, his skin pink and glistening from his shave, his powder blue eyes still smouldering from the pyrotechnic eruptions of last night.
    “Morning Mel,” stooping down he planted a warm kiss on her cheek, before throwing his arms around her and giving her a cuddle. Meli’s heart fluttered like the wings of a newly emerging butterfly. They had had more physical contact in the last twelve hours, it suddenly dawned on her, than they’d probably had in the whole of the last three months, and now, encircled so lovingly in Cal’s arms, it struck her just how much she’d missed it. How must it have affected Cal? Before Amy had been killed, they had been a very touchy-feely couple, always holding hands, canoodling; usually to the accompaniment of a chorus of nauseous groans and censorious looks from the twins, true, but that never stopped them. After Amy? Well, Cal seemed afraid of having any contact, it had almost seemed as if he thought she was too fragile, that one wrong word, one wrongly misconstrued touch and she would have shattered into a million little razor edged pieces. And he was probably right, she acknowledged glibly. Leaning against him, she wanted to tell him that she was sorry, sorry for the way she had been, for her