'When we get to Polreath on Saturday, I'm going to do
nothing,' said Anna.'I just want to sit and have cool drinks
and read and watch the world go by.'
'Me too,' replied Stephen.
It was the hottest summer for twenty years. It had started
at the end of May. Everyone thought the heat would only
last for a few days and then the rain would return, but this
summer was different.
'And don't expect any intelligent conversation from me,'
Anna continued. 'It'll take a day or two for me to become a
member of the human race again!'
'Mm,' said Stephen, not really listening. 'What about
this cottage we've booked, do you think it's going to be all
right? To be honest, I'm a bit worried about it - we were so
late making our decision and it was still available. Why
didn't anyone else want it? It makes me think there must be
something wrong with it.'
'Don't worry. I'm sure it'll be fine. And even if it's not,
we'll still be away from here. Just think - three weeks by
the sea, without any work. It sounds wonderful.'
In the city the heat was uncomfortable. People were not
used to high temperatures day after day. Journeys to work
became hot and sweaty, and increasingly bad-tempered in
the crowded trains and buses. By the beginning of July,
nobody could remember when it had last rained. Every-
5where you looked seemed to be brown - the grass in the
parks was burnt and most of the flowers had died. The sun
was burning hot and the air seemed to be getting thicker
and thicker. At the weekends, the place was empty as many
people left for the countryside.
But Stephen and Anna couldn't leave - not until the
weekend anyway.
* * *
Stephen was thirty-two with dark, curly hair. He had
noticed a few grey hairs that morning when he was drying
it after his shower. But he didn't mind too much; in fact, he
rather liked the idea of a few which might make him look
serious. But his face showed signs of stress and worry.
Stephen left the flat just before seven. He was earlier than
usual this morning because he wanted to avoid the rush
hour, but it seemed as if everyone else had had the same
idea — the roads were busy and there had been an accident
half way along Sussex Gardens. He waited impatiently
while the police sorted out the chaos but by the time he
arrived at work, he was late and not in a very good mood.
He locked the Saab and went into the cool building.
The offices of Jardine and Makepeace, advertising agents,
were on the fourteenth floor of a modern block with
wonderful views over Regent's Park. But this morning,
when Stephen found himself climbing the stairs (the lift
was out of order again!), he would happily have given up
the views for an office on the ground floor.
'Please let everything go smoothly today,' he said to
himself as he made his way up the stairs.