The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

stood up, gave his body a shake and then strode forward. Meli followed.
    Rounding the west tower, she spied the sight of a backside on legs, sporting a shapeless pair of tattered black jogging bottoms cut off around the knees. As she watched, the bottom unrolled and a reed like torso, covered in a sting vest, rose skywards. At first it didn’t appear to have a head, but then slowly it opened up like a flower, before swinging round to glance at her, as if sensing her presence. This had to be the Grim Reaper. Meli gulped. He was at least six foot eight, but he was positively anorexic! If he weighed eight stone she would have been amazed. He was an undernourished sapling supported on two stalks of wheat. A sudden gust of wind raced around the side of the building. Meli half expected him to be blown away, but he wasn’t.
    “You must be Mrs. Noble.” He spoke in a surprisingly gruff, masculine voice, his adams apple, which looked like he’d swallowed a golf ball, bobbed up and down his long, scrawny throat that must have accounted for at least eight inches of his vast height.
    Meli found herself nodding, holding Quassi back as he tugged at his lead.
    “Tim Meaker,” he introduced himself as he moved towards her. Meli had to stretch back her neck to keep his head in view. Everything about his face somehow looked huge and out of proportion, from his mirthless, jutting lips that filled the lower third of his face, to his razor sharp nose with its two cavernous, hairy nostrils, to his elephantine ears that even Dumbo and Noddy would have fought over. Maybe it was his wizened face that accentuated all these features. Even his eyes looked like bugs eyes as they bulged from their sockets, and as she found herself staring into them, she thought she detected the merest hint of amusement in the dark blue; not quite as portrayed by Mrs. Barber. She suspected that he knew the effect he had on people, and privately enjoyed this. Realising that her mouth had dropped open, she hastily clamped it shut.
    “Otherwise known as the Grim Reaper,” he finished. His lips peeled apart, revealing yellowed teeth perched on grey gums as he inclined his head, revealing that his mane of wild, fine white hair was in fact no more than an illusion, a mere rim that encircled the smooth top of his head, which was a dirty nutty brown colour, from exposure to the sun. Grim Reaper like? Possibly. Ghoulish? Definitely. With an artists eye, she couldn’t help but think that he would make a fantastic study for one of her masks.
    Meli found herself smiling up at him. Although his height and appearance were intimidating, she suspected that beneath this exterior lurked a human being, with all their frailties. When Quassi rose up on his hind legs and pawed at Tim’s knees, the giant leant forward from the waist and patted his head. Meli decided at that moment that she liked him.
    “I guessed you were the Grim Reaper,” she said. “The boys had mentioned you.”
    “So you thought you would come and check me out for yourself?” He half cocked an almost nonexistent eyebrow at her.
    Meli studied his face. There was no indication that he took offence. Her expression eased. “Yes, something like that.”
    He nodded. “Well, I prefer to think of myself more as a caretaker of the departed, rather than a reaper of the living. Well, it was nice meeting you Mrs. Noble, but I’d best get on.” Meli concluded from this, that he was a man of limited conversation.
    Stepping back, Tim stooped down to pick up the fork lying on the path beside him, the movement accompanied by a loud groan of pain. Slowly he straightened his spine out, his long, spidery fingers, pressed into the hollow of his back.
    “Can I help?” Meli instantly offered. She wasn’t surprised that such a giant suffered with back problems. Without a word he reached out and took Quassi’s lead from her and then stepped to one side. Stooping down, Meli grappled with the surprisingly weighty fork. Once it was upright, she turned to hold it out to Tim, only to find that Tim and Quassi were at least twelve paces away, heading towards the south side of the church. Using both hands, Meli hoisted the fork into the air, and stumbled after them.
    “Just leave that there,” Tim commented, pointing to the wall as they turned the corner. Obediently, Meli propped the tool against the stonework.
    “Well, it was nice meeting you,” Meli said, watching as Tim leant his lean frame beside it, and reaching