The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

some great masters, as she had with Amy. She was sure that was why there was a demand for them; hopefully a big enough demand to give her a viable cottage industry, the thought wormed its way into her mind.
    She stiffened slightly. That was the first time she had thought about Amy in weeks. Was that good or bad? Was it a sign that she was coming to terms with her grief, or that she was being unfaithful to Amy’s memory? She forced her eyes to study the mask, loosing herself in the gentle slopes and contours of the face. Amy would have been proud of her.
    Clearing away some of her tools, before going for lunch, she spied the small box, where she’d secreted Elsa’s tooth. Opening it, she stared down at the decayed brown incisor. She shuddered involuntarily, wondering what on earth had possessed her to keep it. Carrying it at arms length, she crossed the room, and tipped it into the bin, then looking at the box for a moment, decided she couldn’t keep it either, and that too followed.
    In the distance, she thought she heard the faint ring of the phone above the steady pitter patter of rain on the roof. She would really need to get an extension out here. She hurried across to the lodge. Her feet faltered, and then came to a full stop. The front door was wide open. How on earth had that happened? She knew she had closed it. Hadn’t she? Edging forward she stood listening in the doorway, her eyes searching the hall. The phone had stopped ringing. All was silent, apart from the sound of water dripping from the gutter to her left. There was no movement. She crept inside, senses alert. Inspecting the whole house told her two things: one, that no one was there, the second that Quassi had gone.
    Had she left the door open? She was sure she hadn’t, but in all honesty she couldn’t recall the physical action of pulling the door to and hearing it click. Irritably, she focused on the AWOL mutt. He was such a nuisance at times. She supposed she should try to find him. Picking up her brolly she made doubly sure the door was secured by yanking on it firmly three times before setting off for the farmhouse. Skirting puddles, sheltering beneath her umbrella, she heard the roar of the engine before the van came hurtling around the corner. Inching up the front of the brolly, she was met by the sight of Elsa’s grim eyes staring right at her. The van didn’t slow. Meli was forced to leap into the hedge to avoid being flattened into a tortilla chip. Gasping in shock, she pulled herself free from the clinging, prickly bushes, and turning she watched the van speeding up the hill until it passed from view. Else had seen her. Elsa had tried to run her over. Trying to calm her racing heart she reasoned with herself. Elsa had not actually deliberately tried to run her over, but she hadn’t tried to avoid her either. Minutes later Meli had convinced herself that it had just been an unfortunate accident; that Elsa’s responses were too slow and she hadn’t been able to turn the wheel or apply the brakes in time. Yes, that was it.
    But why hadn’t she stopped to check she was okay, or at least to apologise?
    Meli, who hadn’t moved a muscle for at least a full minute, noticed the cornflower blue remnants of her brolly, crushed in the mud. She began to shake. With a sense of urgency she hurried to find Quassi, instinctively heading for Necropolis, as she now thought of the farms atmospheric yard. Creeping through the gates she strained her ears. In the not too far distance, she detected the sound of scrapping. Sliding along the wall of a barn, she peeped around the corner. Quassi was head down, frantically pawing at a door, trying to prise it open. Apart from that, the yard was draped in silence. Meli sensed it listening to her laboured breathing. Not even bothering to call Quassi, she ran across the cobbles, and stooping down grabbed him by the collar and fled. Her skin was crawling like a corpse alive with maggots.
    Back home she let herself into the house and having closed the door she locked it too, for good measure. Someone had been watching her. She knew it as surely as Elsa had nearly run her down. But who? Why? Who had opened the door and left muddy footprints on the hall floor? She didn’t recall seeing them earlier. Had they been there when she first came in and she hadn’t noticed them? Or had someone been in since? Once again she searched her home, this time taking a rolling pin and Quassi with her. Again the house was