When life became impossible for the homeless of London many left the streets to live under the earth. They made their homes in the corridors and caves of the underground. They gave their home a name. They called it UNDERWORLD.
It was hard for Sarah to remember how long she'd been down there, but sometimes it seemed like forever. It was hard to remember a life on the outside. It was hard to remember the real world. Now it seemed there was nothing but creeping through the darkness, there was nothing but whispering and secrecy.
And in the darkness lay a man who was waiting to kill her....
I live in Somerset with my wife Marti and Mitzi, a Welsh collie. Obviously they control everything and I am a mere hanger-on. Older than I look, I remember smoking on the shore as the Ark was being launched and thinking to myself, 'That folly will never float.' And, 'I ought to give these things up.' I have been described as 'an original thinker, with a battered energy and a dark but hopeful sense of humour'. Which is better than I could have come up with. That's pretty much it. I am always happy to chat and can be contacted at pbeere@sky.com. Buy my books, tell others, and we'll be friends for ever more.