The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

hands down the backs of her trousers, leaving chalky finger marks on the grubby material. Her eyes followed when Dog suddenly craned his neck upwards and surveyed the upper storey of the house. What had he heard that she hadn’t? Nothing moved that she could detect, and the surrounding vicinity was silent; eerily silent.
    Glancing down at the Labrador cross, she said, “I don’t think anyone’s home.” She was amazed at how comforting it was to hear the sound of a voice, even if it was her own. Dog wagged his tail as if in agreement. Meli glanced around. She wondered where Elsa could be. She really needed to find her and get this over with, and she still had to go into Exmouth. Dog suddenly stiffened, and the hairs on his back formed a ruff.
    Meli turned and swept her eyes in the same direction, staring beyond a pair of rusted gates to a yard that elbowed to the left and disappeared behind a low slung outbuilding. She couldn’t see anyone, yet she too sensed that they were being watched. Maybe Elsa was in one of the buildings? “Come on, let’s go take a look.”
    The dog didn’t need a second invitation and was soon pulling on his lead; his ears pricked alertly, his nose raised, nostrils testing the air. Passing through the gates Meli paused, resting her hand briefly on a rusting metal pineapple, one of several that lined the rim of the gate, standing like a row of shrunken heads impaled on miniature spikes. Taking a deep breath, Meli stepped forward and found herself in a cobbled yard. Unconsciously she ran her palm down her jeans, this time adding a smudge of orange to the denim. Two identical buildings with sloped roofs formed a long depressing alley, ending with a gate that led into a field. There was no one in sight, and all was quiet. To the right, Elsa’s Transit was parked. Meli knew that Elsa had to be around. Making her way towards it, she peered through the side window, quickly joined by Dog as his front paws clambered up the paintwork. Together they stared inside. It looked empty. Cupping her hands against the glass, she peered more closely, this time making out a carpet of rubbish in the footwell, and the more unusual sight of a cracked dinner plate on the passenger seat, with what looked like a half loaf of bread, the innards scooped out and a large pickled onion on it. Odd though this was, Meli registered little surprise. Stepping sideways she lifted her head to try to peer over the seat into the darkened interior beyond. Repulsed and gagging, Meli jerked away as the lining of her nostrils stung, assaulted by an awful stench that was emanating from the slightly opened window; a stench that made her stomach churn and she likened to that of undiluted pigs shit. Dog, however, seemed to think that the smell was as alluring as roast beef with a rich onion gravy. Bouncing on his hind legs, he shuffled closer, then much to Meli’s disgust he thrust his nose against the opening and greedily took great lungfuls of the stuff. Yanking on his string lead, she pulled him away. She hoped and prayed that she would never, ever need a lift from Elsa.
    Moving, she worked her way along one line of windows, skirting the mummified carcasses of disembowelled machine parts and great skeletal stacks of kindling wood and lichen coated logs that gathered against the bowed stone walls. Her prying eyes discerned nothing within, unable to penetrate the dense layers of clotted grey cobwebs wedged against the glass, decades old dust and bubble-packed currants, which on closer inspection turned out to be the sucked-out carcasses of dead flies and remains of the diners, the whole thing a bit like an unsavoury bread and butter pudding.
    Both of them froze when they heard a sound from the building behind them. Something clattered, as though it had been knocked over. Maybe a rat? There were probably lots of rats. Meli’s stomach tightened as she turned slowly and glanced over her shoulder, resisting the sudden and growing urge to flee. Her head began to spin, and she thought she might pass out, until she realised that she was holding her breath. Expelling the air from her taut body she checked Dog’s reaction. He was gazing at her with unnerving intensity, his tail clamped against the curvature of his rump and hind legs. She got the distinct feeling that he was checking her reaction in turn. She wanted to talk to him, to allay his fears, but found she was unable to speak, unable to break the oppressive silence. This is