IRIS walked slowly to the front door of her Victorian villa in Fairley, a sleepy Sussex village. It had begun, she fumed silently – the “invasion” of her home. Of course, she’d been expecting it. Her

CAMILLE gulped down her cup of coffee, snatched up her keys and hurriedly hauled back the living room curtains. It wasn’t like her to oversleep, and of course it had to be this morning, when she had a

COME on, Jo. You haven’t been out with us for ages,” Gemma chided me, when she phoned. “It’s not good for you sitting about in that poky flat all on your own.” “I’m not on my own. I have Simon,” I cor

I WAS dressed in my bright pink pyjamas decorated with cartoon sloths. In my defence, they are extremely comfortable. I was holding a hair curling tong like a microphone and belting out “Baby One More

Helen Harris always enjoyed her afternoon tea with Martha Evert, and as she knocked on the door carrying a treat of two chocolate muffins, she looked forward to an hour or two of catching up with her

After school, she is all mine. I drag my bike through the garage’s side door, careful not to catch my leg on the oily chain and cycle off. It’s not far. The big kids are draining out of the comp. Thei