As soon as Alan was away from the house, he looked at his watch again. If he was to reach the hall for the start of the performance, he had to take Oak Road. He had been there in the summer after heavy rain and the brook had flowed under the road. His friend was being over anxious, he decided. Deep down, however, he knew he was probably right.
He made his way as fast as he could, down the lane. To the left, lay the wastelands, behind a holly and beech hedge, with an occasional oak tree standing out. To the right was a wooded area of oak trees, interspersed with patches of blackthorn growing along the roadside. Beyond were the fields with the new houses.

Alan listened for the sound of the brook as he descended. He couldn’t hear the familiar gurgle as it ran through the culvert under the road, more of a high pitched metallic ring.

It started to rain, he pulled up the collar of his coat and increased his pace. As he got to the bend in the road, he knew what he would see on the far side.

“How could I be so stupid? ” he asked himself. “It was summer when I was here and the trees were in leaf. The oaks must have been sucking up gallons of water.