CAROLS are playing softly, their melodies floating into the kitchen where Miranda is standing at the hob, gently stirring mulled wine. From the bubbling pot, the smell of cinnamon and clove wafts thro

RIGHT. I have come to a decision,” Mel said one weekend, as she cleared away the breakfast things. “In that case, I’m off. Bye, Mum, see you later!” “Wait, Seth. Stay exactly where you are! You have n

CHRISTMAS 1962. Bitterly cold. Elvis was crooning on my dad’s wind-up radio. I was nine. Mum was cleaning rich folks’ houses right up to Christmas Eve because Dad was out of work. But he had a plan. M

AUNT ESME’S Christmas gifts were always a surprise. She either raided the local charity shops, rummaged through the middle aisle of the big supermarkets, or won some random competition online. Rowena

I’M bored.” Ruth looked up from her magazine. How could something so crammed with TV programme listings have so little in it? “There’s nothing on, Max,” she said. Her husband turned his head. “Nothing

THE Janus Inn’s sign swung ominously in the gathering wind as Mairi and her bundle stood outside. Waiting for the coachman to appear, she looked towards the stout, ancient building, glad of the carous