The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

possible? SS probably weighed as much as, if not more than the skinny pusses she’d seen hanging around, at least he had when he was in one piece. “Best not to mention it to the boys, no point upsetting them.”
    “Yes, I agree. But who would have shot him and why? There really shouldn’t have been anyone around. Unless it was Elsa?” he suddenly suggested with a flash of fear in his blue eyes.
    “Do you think we should report it to the police?”
    Cal threw back his head and laughed out loud at her suggestion. “And what do you think they would do? Organise a man hunt and offer a reward for the squirrel killer? I don’t think so. Remember, squirrels are vermin. It’s not a crime to kill them.”
    Meli didn’t think it was such a stupid idea and felt slightly ruffled by his ridicule. Picking up the remote she spent several seconds pummelling the buttons with steel hard fingers, flicking between channels.
    “Do you know where the CD remote control is?” She suddenly remembered that it was missing.
    “Haven’t seen it,” Cal replied, still wearing a stupid grin. “Maybe the kids have put it somewhere, along with Cassie’s hair brush. You know what a pair of wind-up merchants they can be at times.” While Meli was distracted, thinking about this, Cal gentle prised the remote from her fingers, and turned the T.V. over to Location, Location, Location.
    When Meli questioned the boys about the disappearances, they denied any involvement, and informed her that they had already been cross examined by a snarling Cassie about her hairbrush.
    At dinner time Cassie appeared and collecting two meals took them up to her room, and then brought the plates down later. Meli was beginning to wonder whether Sarah actually existed, as Cassie had made no attempt to produce her, although maybe the poor kid was too terrified to show herself after Meli’s outburst about the door being left open, allowing Quassi to escape.
    Shortly before bed time, Meli went into her bedroom to put away some ironing. Flicking on the light switch she cried out in revulsion and irritation, her cry shaking the silently slumbering shadows and sending them cowering into every nook and cranny. The room was filled with flies. Fat, healthy looking blue-bottles, of the same family which had infected Cassie’s room. Where could they have come from? Meli thought about the open door earlier. Had someone crept in and let them loose? Your imagination is running riot, she told herself. Closing the door firmly, to prevent them from infecting the whole house, she called Cal from the top of the stairs. Eventually he appeared.
    “You’ve got to come and see this,” she told him. She led him quickly along the landing, then reaching the bedroom door she stood to one side. “After you,” she told him, with a sweep of her arm. “But keep your mouth closed,” she warned.
    Puzzled he swung back the door. “Where the hell did they come from?” Quickly he pulled Meli in behind him and secured the door. Striding across to the windows, he threw them both wide, and between them they drove the infestation from the room.
    “This is exactly what happened in Cassie’s room,” Meli told him, her eyes still darting from shadow to shadow, searching for any stragglers. “Do you think it could be anything to do with Elsa? After all, she is a prime suspect, and she does seem to breed flies.” Her gaze settled on her husband.
    “I’m getting seriously worried about you,” he told her, his eyes widening as he gazed into her earnest face. “How could she possibly be responsible?”
    “I know it sounds bizarre,” her voice was defensive, “but then so is our neighbour.”
    “I’m sure that there is some logical explanation.” When Meli cocked an eyebrow in challenge, Cal turned away, and busied himself closing the windows. “Well, there has to be.” She heard him mutter.

    Seeing George’s morose face with the down turned lips as he dragged himself in from the garden, Meli didn’t need a diploma in child psychology to guess the cause.
    “Mum, we haven’t seen SS, not for days. What do you think has happened to him?” Her sons pained blue eyes were lifted plaintively, staring at her through dark lashes.
    Several thoughts flashed through her head: tell him the awful truth? Tell him a lie, even if it was a white one? Give him false hope? Her heart constricted. However much she wanted to be honest with him; even if only to ease her own conscience, she