The Mysteries of Brambly Hollow

would have to do this herself.
    Sliding open a drawer as quietly as she could, she took out a carving knife. Staring at the glittering silver blade for a moment, she dropped it back in the drawer. What good was it? No use taking such a lethal weapon if you weren’t prepared to use it, and she couldn’t imagine thrusting that blade into anyone’s flesh, even if threatened. Scrabbling around in the drawer she picked up her rolling pin. Now, this she could imagine braining someone with. She’d never used it before (for rolling pastry or knocking senseless a maniac), but now might be the time. Gripping it for all she was worth, she checked the house. Much to her relief she didn’t need to use it.
    Completing a final check of the kitchen, ensuring that no evidence remained, apart from the nose burning smell of bleach which would no doubt linger for hours, she forced herself to go back to work. It was almost impossible to do anything though, with fingers that worked with the proficiency of eight frozen runner beans with sausages for thumbs, and every time there was a little creak or sound her heart lurched. She was also tortured by thoughts about the twins. Where were they? Were they safe?
    Hearing sounds, Meli glanced through the doorway, and saw the boys trot across the drive and into the house, the AWOL Quassi in tow. They didn’t seem to be limping, missing any limbs or dripping blood, but nevertheless, she down tooled and was instantly on her feet and chasing after them.
    “Hi kids,” she greeted, as she rushed indoors. “I see you found Quassi.”
    “No, we didn’t find him,” George countered with a smirk. “Q found us.”
    Given an unexpected opening, Meli leaped on it. “What, down at the church?”
    The boys exchanged cagey looks, before David replied rather hesitantly. “No, we went to do some exploring in the old barns at the back of the farm. Q found us there.”
    Did she believe them? They were headed that way when last seen, so it was probably true. “I don’t want you going there again,” she told them. “There, there’s probably lots of things you could hurt yourself on,” it was very lame. “Also there are a lot of adders around at the moment,” the recollection of Tim’s warning came to her rescue, although she wasn’t sure that they actually resided in barns; still, hopefully the boys didn’t know that.
    “Grim told us that adders hide in long grasses and undergrowth.” George dashed her hopes. “So does that mean we can’t go in the graveyard then?”
    Was he deliberately trying to outwit her? Meli did some quick thinking. “No, that’s fine.” Being at the church was far preferable to them being anywhere near the farm and Elsa. At least she knew where they were, and Tim would be there to watch over them. “Tim told me he searches the graveyard twice every day and gets rid of any he finds.” George nodded, appearing quite content with her answer.
    “Cheese on toast?” Meli offered the twins. When they both consented, Meli organised them preparing the toast, while she grated a mountain of cheese. Piling this onto the lightly browned bread, Meli enquired innocently. “Where are you off to this afternoon?” She slid the grill pan under the grill.
    “Down to see Grim,” David answered as he dragged a screeching chair out from under the table and then plonked himself on it. Why couldn’t they have gone there earlier and saved her all that worry, she wondered?
    “Mum, what have you done to your leg?” David asked, studying her leg with some interest.
    Her lingering embarrassment at her failed espionage, flipped up and struck her in the face like the tail of a cold kipper. Squirming inwardly, Meli hid her hot cheeks by lowering her head and glancing down, seeing a long, blood congealed scratch, that started just beneath the hem of her shorts, which annoyingly were torn, and ran down to the middle of her shin. “I don’t know, probably just caught it on something,” she replied quickly as she placed their toast in front of them. Yanking some kitchen towel from the roll, she dampened it, before working it down her leg, wiping away the dried blood. Dropping it in the bin, she forced herself to join the boys at the table, the bile in her stomach spitting and bubbling like a brew in a witches cauldron as she recalled the decomposing corpse, half expecting a maggot to appear and break-dance across the surface of her hot, sizzling cheese.
    Nibbling slowly, she became