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

JANUARY 1. Hazel sat in the quiet cottage. It was one of two, semidetached, on the outskirts of the village, completely surrounded by fields. When she looked out of the window, all she saw was unrelen

I told him it was over and his revenge stole the life of my best friend

I told him it was over and his revenge stole the life of my best friend

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

A s I write this, just a week before Christmas, it’s a wonderfully frantic time in the office as we sign off magazines and race to meet deadlines, all in the hope of enjoying a well-deserved rest over