Many trees in the Brackham area were brought down in the terrible storms that March. The town itself lost two great lime trees from the former market square. The disappearance of such striking features had changed the appearance of the town center entirely, to the annoyance of its more conservative inhabitants . Among the annoyed, under more normal circumstances, would have been Chief Inspector Douglas Pelham, head of the local police force. But at the height of that week's storm, when the wind brought down even the mature walnut tree in his garden, Pelham had in fact been in no fit state to notice. A large and healthy man, he had for the first time in his life been seriously ill with an attack of bronchitis. When he first complained of an aching head and tightness in his chest, his wife, Molly, had tried to persuade him to go to the doctor. Convinced that the police force could not do without him, he had, as usual, ignored her and attempted to carry on working. Predictably, though he wouldn't have listened to anyone who tried to tell him so, this had the effect of fogging his memory and shortening his temper. It was only when his colleague, Sergeant Lloyd, took the initiative   and drove him to the doctor's door that he finally gave in. By that time, he didn't have the strength left to argue with her. In no time at all, she was taking him along to the chemist's to get his medicine and then home to his unsurprised wife who sent him straight to bed. When Molly told him, on the Thursday morning, that the walnut tree had been brought down during the night, Pelham hadn't been able to take it in. On Thursday evening, he had asked weakly about damage to the house, groaned   thankfully when he heard there was none, and pulled the sheets over his head. It wasn't until Saturday, when the medicine took effect, his temperature dropped and he got up, that he realized with a shock that the loss of the walnut tree had made a permanent difference to the appearance of the living-room. The Pelhams' large house stood in a sizable garden. It had not come cheap, but even so Pelham had no regrets about buying it. The leafy garden had created an impression of privacy. Now, though, the storm had changed his outlook. Previously, the view from the living-room had featured the handsome walnut tree. This had not darkened the room because there was also a window on the opposite wall, but it had provided interesting patterns of light and shade that hid the true state of the worn furniture that the family had brought with them from their previous house. With the tree gone, the room seemed cruelly bright, its worn furnishings exposed in all their shabbiness. And the view from the window didn't bear looking at. The tall house next door, previously hidden by the tree, was now there, dominating the outlook with its unattractive purple bricks and external pipes. It seemed to have a great many upstairs windows, all of them watching the Pelhams' every movement. "Doesn't it look terrible?" Pelham whispered to his wife. But Molly, standing in the doorway, sounded more pleased than dismayed. "That's what I've been telling you ever since we came here. We have to buy a new sofa, whatever it costs." Why were some people in Brackham annoyed after the storm?
No market could be held. The police had done little to help. The town looked different. Fallen trees had not been removed.