The old cottage

IT was a fine, windy day in September, and Rosalind Aston had an odd feeling that she was in love. The emotion was new, and she could not be sure, but she luxuriated in it as she walked towards the ha

EVERY time I smell the sweet scent of September air, I am transported back to Alderley Cottage. I am walking up the garden path strewn with grass and twigs towards a faded blue painted door with a bro

CATHY grunted as she struggled to open a jar of marmalade. Standing tall and athletic, amidst boxes piled high on the scarred wooden table in her new farmhouse kitchen, she inhaled the scents of woods

Emma set down her coffee mug. Through the café window, autumn leaves twirled in the October breeze, mirroring the upheaval in her own life. Forty-eight hours ago, she had handed in her resignation let

AFTER Louisa’s funeral, her friends and neighbours gathered together in September Cottage. Her home, just like the church had been, was full of autumn flowers. Louisa had been born in September, which

All these years on, I still don’t know I how I got out alive