‘Where’s owls?’ asked Max. ‘I suppose they’re in the trees,’ said Agatha. ‘They live in the trees.’

In the last weeks of the school year the hallways empty out and summer gets so close you can taste it like iron in your throat.

Naked, except for a pair of black knickers with busted elastic, Callie walks across her bedroom floor.

A piece of short fiction commissioned by Writers’ Centre Norwich for the Worlds festival 2011.

A WCN-commissioned piece on colour influences from the Norfolk landscape.

She arrived with the heat-wave that sucked our village dry of any moisture in the summer of 1976.

I tore down the tomato plants today; I had to, they’d started to rot. Apparently I had tied them too tightly to the bamboo canes.

The first morning I waited only a few minutes, catching his slight limp and the turn of his shoulders...

We have been working for less than an hour when Jake sets light to the kitchen blind.