The car swung betweenthe wrought iron gates of the Stourside Tennis Club, crunching along the graveldrive towards the club house. The tourer skidded t... a halt, it showered theclub house lawn with gravel - a result of excessive enthusiasm applied to thehand brake. The honourable Bertie Graham grabbed a canvas bag from the seatbeside him and vaulted out of the driving seat. Alice Mottram, who had beensitting on the veranda of the club house leapt to her feet smiling. ?Oh, Bertie, what a complete. Now the flames are washing across the dry trees like waves on a floating ocean. Westwood, Tower or old, they’re not getting out alive. A lonesome howl sounds out above the deafening crackle of trees and dry leaves. * * * ‘When one is making an omlette, one must break a few eggs.’ My armband serves as a satisyfing mask, but my sunglasses do a mediocre job of keeping the smoke out my eyes. I should have goggles. ‘But twelve men, Brie…’ ‘Eight men,’ the woman sharply corrects. ‘Four women.’ . More

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