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Could this Cornish escape help Iris reclaim her lost self?
By Jane Johnso
This is ridiculous,” said Lissa, as she ducked beneath the bough of a particularly vigorous monstera, the one that Abbie had taken to calling Moz. “You do understand that this is supposed to be a fron
MILK?” Mrs Evans loomed over Alice Campbell’s teacup with a milk jug. The humidity in the tea shop was beginning to wilt the fabric violets in Alice’s little hat. She could see a few of the tiny flowe
So much went unspoken in her past – so much love never expressed
A criminal in their midst? Thankfully the village had its own Miss Marple
LET me get that door for you, Ena.” Mr Chapel held open the door to reception for Ena, his head tea lady. “What on earth have you got there?” Ena shifted the two heavy bags and gratefully stepped thro
THE light was beginning to fade, and as Irene started to scratch her bare arms, she remembered anew one of the few things she disliked about being in the countryside. “The midges are out,” she complai