




| STORMFLY Prologue I suppose it began with the summer of '63. Annie, Tom and me; three fourteen year olds deep in the Suffolk countryside, having a picnic in a clearing surrounded by knee high corn swaying in a humid breeze. In the distance the whirr of my uncle's combine, pale sunlight reflecting from its green sides. I remember thunder rumbling in the west, where the sky was changing from blue to threatening brown. It was hot and stuffy. And then came the flies, tiny things that hung in the air, like they always seemed to do - Just before a storm - go to opening chapters |



