Fiction.
Then the miller drowns himself...then the butcher slits his throat...and a series of gruesome deaths plag.
Her son shouts down her ear-trumpet that the garden is submerged, Dead animals everywhere, she will be lucky to get a bunch.
What about my rose beds? demands Grandmother Willoweed.
It begins mid-flood, ducks swimming in the drawing-room windows, quacking their approval as they sail around the room.
This is the story of the Willoweed family and the English village in which they live.
Fiction