August is a wicked month [antikvár]

Chapter One The weather bureau forecast sun. It was not mistaken-All day for five days it sizzled in the heavens and down below die city of London simmered. People who had hoped for sttmmer wished now for a breeze and a little respite. Only at night did Ellen feel cool. Watering the garden and then sitting in the stone alcove. Provident stone. It gave back the warmth taken throughout the hot day and she saw it as something human - the mother who reserves love for when it is most needed. She often sat for an hour, caressing the stone, listening for the sounds of her child if he happened to be sleeping in her house, listening anyhow, which is what one does alone at night in a garden hushed by darkness. It was the best hour, sitting there, warmed, and calm, and a little sad. But next day it would be boiling again. The child's father decided that they would go into the country. They would camp out he said, and make fires and go fishing and do things the boy wanted to do. It only took a day to get the various necessaries and they were ready to leave on Thursday. In the shade end of the kitchen they sat, drinking tea, she from her mug, he from the blue china cup reserved for guests; hardly speaking. Through the glass half of the kitchen door they watched their child, putting up the tent in the garden. It was already fixed on two poles, a bright blue, flapping back and forth like a flag. The father had