They woke to torrential rain pounding the corrugated iron roof and beating against the bedroom window with such ferocity, Anna felt certain the glass would c***k. Conversation proved impossible, so she padded into the kitchen to make cups of tea. Peering through the Venetian blinds while the jug boiled, she watched rivers of rain race down the driveway, muddied by soil that was spilling over the low wall separating balding grass and concrete. Below, in the neighbouring garden, palm fronds had shredded like flimsy flowers and thin trunks bent at odd angles. Mango missiles from an enormous tree behind the palms flew over the dividing fence and splattered against rapidly rotating Hill"s Hoists, creating swirls of green. Mesmerised, Anna ignored the jug"s frantic jig across the draining board
