The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

into a pocket took out a packet of fags and lit one up.
    “No doubt, I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Noble.”

Chapter 14

    Meli set off for home, humming cheerfully to herself, victorious in the notion that she had finally outwitted Mrs. Barber, and that her worries regarding the mysterious Grim Reaper were eased; that was until she ascended the brow of the hill. At this point the tune began to flag and then petered out all together by the time she reached the blood-like, hand written warning signs beneath the signpost for Brambly Hollow Farm. She paused for a moment, and glanced wishfully across the road to Blue Bells, wishing that Barbara would appear in the doorway and call her over for a cup of coffee. But she didn ’t. Steeling herself, Meli started down the trail. The prospect of having to face the sight of the offensive wrecks dumped outside their home, wondering whether some other eyesore might have joined them, was bad enough, without the fear that was swirling in her stomach, fear that the door might be open again. Today, her fears were unfounded; the view of the house was unchanged, the door still closed, just as she had left it. The sight calmed her irritated stomach, like a dose of Pepto Bismol.
    Letting herself in she still found herself checking for any indication that anything was amiss, or disturbed. Everything seemed fine. Glancing at the clock, she checked the time. She had a meeting with Roy Peters at Exeter University at twelve-thirty, to discuss the quote she’d sent them recently. The prospect of the commission to make the masks was very exciting. The work involved would keep her going for at least twelve weeks, and should prove very lucrative. It was ten o’clock. Plenty of time to get some housework done. Selecting a Meatloaf C.D. to listen to, she wasted ten minutes searching in vain for the C.D. remote control. It was nowhere to be found. The kids must have put it somewhere. It didn’t seem to matter how many times they were told not to touch things, they just couldn’t help themselves. Giving up on her search, hoping that it would turn up while she was cleaning, possibly stuffed behind a cushion or somewhere, she put the C.D. in the player, turned it on manually, then, duster and polish in hand she whizzed around like a Bat Out of Hell.
    At eleven, she pushed the hoover back into the cupboard, had a quick shower and changed into a suit, then collecting her portfolio she grabbed her keys and bade Quassi goodbye. Closing the door, she checked it was secure before leaving, and then went through the difficult manoeuvre of backing the car from the drive without hitting walls, milk floats or trailers.

    Returning from the school run, silence cut through the slanging match between sister and twins as all eyes swung right as the car trundled down the bumpy track. “Oh, shit.” The words were out before Meli could bite them back. Everything on the Elsa front had been so calm and quiet for weeks now, so Meli was devastated to find that another wreck had joined company with the milk float and trailer. This time it was a battered cream coloured Citroen, the front end crumpled in like the broken nose of a boxer. Braking beside it, she ran her gaze along the length of the rotting carcass, anger and dismay curdling together in her stomach. Her small fist pounded the steering wheel. What was Elsa playing at? Why was she torturing them? If she really wanted the wrecks, she had plenty of land to use. What could have set her off, yet again?
    “You boys haven’t done anything to upset Elsa, have you?” Twisting in her seat she slid a challenging look between them. She didn’t bother to include Cass in the questioning. Although she could test the patience of a saint, she barely left the lodge, except to go to school. Both faces were like the faces of little cherubs, ones of total innocence as they sank back into their seats and frantically shook their heads in avid denial. Meli wasn’t necessarily convinced, but in all honesty there was nothing they could have done to warrant Elsa doing this. Turning away, her fingers sank into the steering wheel like sets of alligator teeth. There was no option now. She and Cal would have to call and see her, to sort this once and for all. Stamping her foot on the accelerator, Meli shot the car, before slowing to make the awkward turn onto the drive, inching her way forward to clear the wall with her bumper. She had no idea how Cal managed with his bigger vehicle. As