The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

boy’s didn’t look convinced. “Besides, I think you need some advise, the height you’ve set the line at, well it’s a bit low. When the squirrel gets on it, his weight will probably drag it to the floor. I think you need dad’s help.”
    A short while later, Meli stood between her husband and the twins on the patio as they surveyed the scene. Glancing at Cal, she read his expression; his garden, his precious garden, looked like a chainsaw massacre in a timber yard, with the dismembered carcasses and limbs of wooden pallets and crates scattered all over his manicured lawn. To say he looked on the verge of self combusting was an understatement. She knew that to the twins, the same scene looked like the set of a great sporting event under construction.
    “It’s not so bad,” she whispered to Cal.
    Tired blue eyes turned and blinked at her, and in them he clearly said: I can’t believe that you think I should encourage them in this foolhardy venture.
    Sensitive that maybe Cal wasn’t up to this particular challenge right at that moment, she turned to the twins. “Dad will help tomorrow, he needs a bit of time to come up with a plan. Why don’t you tidy up for now before our visitors arrive.” For once the boys didn’t protest. As Meli turned and went back indoors, she felt Cal’s eyes like clubs beating her on the back of her head.
    “Did you remember to mention to Elsa that we were having guests, and they would need to park on the lane?” Meli ventured to ask when Cal followed her inside, sidetracking any argument about the squirrel assault course. It worked.
    Cal shook his head. “Damn. No, I clean forgot. Shall I go and do it now?”
    “Might be best, we don’t want to upset our neighbour.”
    Compliantly Cal hurried off, but he was back within minutes. “She wasn’t in. But I’m sure she won’t mind.” Meli pushed aside the tiny niggle that she might.
    Cassie came clomping down the stairs, her expression unusually radiant. She was really quite pretty, Meli thought, without the knife sticking out of her head. “They’re only minutes away,” she cast at her mother as she bounced past on pockets of air, Quassi springing along in her wake. “I said I would wait at the top of the lane, in case they miss us.” The prospect of seeing friends from their old home town was like a tonic of pure happiness; and Cassie must have been given a double dose. If only they could bottle some for later use, Meli thought.
    “Good idea,” she commented, plugging in the coffee maker which she’d prepared earlier. She knew that the women would want a coffee first, and that the men would go straight for the beers. She felt a spark of eager anticipation to see their friends. A heady scent of aftershave, wafting down the stairs, heralded the return of Cal, his belly bulging through the crisp white tee shirt and Levi’s that he’d squeezed himself into.
    “I guess they’re nearly here,” he commented, hearing the first sizzle and glug of filtering coffee. Meli nodded. “Dinner smells great,” he added, taking a huge, appreciative lungful of the rich beefy aroma.
    Voices and footsteps announced their friends safe arrival. Cal and Meli exchanged hugs and kisses with Roger and Myra Winters and their son Simon, and with Adam and Paula Chase, and their daughter Suzie. Simon and Suzie were whisked away instantly to the Noble childrens’ rooms.
    Crowding into the living room their friends admired their new home, the first time they had seen it, other than in photos.
    “It’s beautiful,” gasped Paula, swinging her head on her slim neck. “So much character.”
    “A bit like the crackpot we passed outside,” quipped her husband, Adam.
    “Oh, you must have met the infamous Elsa Vitty,” Cal chortled with a grin, knowing instantly who they were referring to.
    “What was she doing?” asked Meli, intrigued to know how she had made such an impact within thirty seconds of their friends arrival.
    Their guests all exchanged amused glances. It was Myra who beat the others to reply.
    “It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my whole life,” she groaned, her vermilion painted lips curving downwards. “She was walking along,” her lower face puckered now, barely able to continue. “Eating a tub of margarine with a plastic spoon.” She gushed the last words, before her whole face collapsed with revulsion and her shoulders visibly shook.
    “No!” exclaimed Meli. “I know she can be a little