Queen bee

T here is a low-level hum that forms the soundtrack to many women’s lives. It’s a conditioning. The silent expectation to be the architect of everyone’s day, managing the moods of daily life. Being th

Mary Pargeter was starting to feel her age. When did she first attend the annual Christmas tree lighting ceremony at Greenwood House? A quarter of a century, and she was retired even then. Had she loc

GOOD morning! Seems like we’re both up bright and early today!” Dianne Fernsby smiled at the red-breasted visitor who hopped about on the bird table close to her kitchen window as she filled the kettl

LITERALLY no jobs come in over the Christmas period,” Jenna said. Lola Everett looked into her sister’s face, which was like her own but six years younger. “But is that true?” she asked. Jenna had a h

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

TESS was the mother of three grown-up sons. So she had imagined a wedding in the family, and pictured herself there, many times. She had seen herself in a floaty chiffon dress, possibly in mint green,