The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

hanging, he spun on his heels to deal with the escapee. Down below Cassie bellowed with rage as Quassi slid himself eel like along the carpet, ending up rubbing his sopping coat across Cassie’s bare feet.
    Before Cassie could carry out the look of murder that was etched in deep, ugly lines over her face (that uncannily resembled the expression on her mother’s face), Cal grabbed Quassi and for his own protection led him firmly into the kitchen. “We’ll have to get you a gate to keep you in your place,” he told the quivering dog as he gathered him into a damp bath towel that he’d dragged from the drum of the washing machine. “You’re a pest.” He ruffled the top of his head affectionately.

Chapter 9

    “ Mum, why wont Quassi do what I tell him to?” Questioned George as he mooched into the kitchen, his lips pulled down petulantly.
    Why did kids pose such deep and thought provoking questions, Meli wondered? Especially when she was so busy. It was Saturday morning, and a particularly busy Saturday at that. They had friends coming down from Reading, to celebrate Meli’s birthday, and they were staying overnight. Meli was preparing the meal. Looking up from a pan of simmering mince, Meli met a pair of cornflower blue eyes that were fixed earnestly on her. Shifting her gaze, Meli glanced towards the offending animal. Why indeed, she sighed. “I don’t know. He probably just needs to get used to us, after all, he’s not used to living with a family.” She grimaced as her thoughts flew back to her visit to the kennels. “Just persevere.” Was all she could recommend. George nodded, but he didn’t look too hopeful.
    “Let’s take Quassi for a walk,” Meli suggested a short time later. “I need to pop down to the Post Office before is shuts.” What should have been an uncomplicated proposal almost erupted into civil war, when the boys began an argument over who would hold the dog lead. Eventually, Meli interceded and organised them so George held it on the way there, and David on the way back. It sometimes seemed to Meli that kids could fall out over who’s fart smelled the worst!
    Bringing up the rear, so she could keep an eye on the kids, dog and the oncoming traffic, they set off down the hill. It was a slow and tortuous journey as Quassi, true to form, stopped to sniff and pee on anything that even resembled a blade of grass. “Come on, keep him moving,” she urged George. “Otherwise the shop will be closed long before we get there.”
    The Post Office was the third cottage in a row of six. As they approached the first cottage, Meli was surprised to see the Countess Wilhelmina Van Gelda sitting in her wheelchair outside the open front door.
    “Morning,” she greeted the old woman with a pleasant smile, wondering at the same time whether she should address her with some sort of title, like Ma’am, or Countess? Maybe she should have curtsied?
    “We’ve met before, haven’t we?” The aristocratic face, with its sharp nose and high, rouged cheekbones peered up at her with a pair of crystal blue eyes. “Oh yes, I remember, it was in the pub.”
    Meli found herself a little shocked by the use of such a common word as ’pub’. It didn’t seem a word that would leap from such an elegant lady’s painted lips. Public House, Inn or The Smugglers Arms would have sounded more in keeping. Quickly she began nodding, realising that she was gaping rudely at the Countess. “I’m Meli Noble, from Brambly Hollow Lodge.” She introduced herself.
    “I’m Vilma. I live here.” A frail white hand with perfectly manicured nails, was offered. Taking it, Meli was amazed by the strength of the woman’s grasp. She jumped when a male voice emerged from her right, the voice grating in her ears like nails being scrapped down a blackboard.
    “Come on Vilma, let’s get you indoors.” It was the dastardly Bill. Brushing rudely passed Meli, as though she wasn’t even there, he moved to the front of the wheelchair and lifting Vilma’s light body into his arms, he carried her inside.
    “Come on mum,” George shouted from across the road. “I thought you was in a hurry.”
    Glancing at her watch, Meli trotted the last few yards to the Post Office. Her first impression of the Countess, of imagining her living in a huge mansion with its own grounds was totally shattered. Despite her grand title she was just a very ordinary woman; very pleasant, but ordinary.
    “We’ll wait over there,” David