RUTH climbed the narrow path to Windlow Hill. She had a canvas bag in one hand and her mother’s old cardigan tucked under the other. Below, the village looked almost as it had in her childhood – white

Sarah looked down at her shopping list again, frowning. Why on earth had she been so pig-headed? Her parents had offered to do Christmas. So had John’s. But no. She’d insisted: since this was their fi

OK? Ready?” “Yep.” Fi smiled at Brand. She then picked up the bags full of presents, hoping her face had been convincing. There had been a time when she’d loved these family gatherings at Christmas bu

HER phone pinged with the e-mail while she was lying on the beach. The Greek sun blazed down from – well, being a writer, it was second nature for Amy to think about how she would describe the blue sk

HELLO, little one!” Penny Dauntless greeted a robin-redbreast, who cocked his head as she pushed along her trolley of post on the daily round. “How often is there such a perfect mid-December morning?”

The lives of Clara and Nancy are worlds apart – but is it time for them to finally live out their dream?