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Who knew Aunt Norah’s gaudy knitting would save the day?
By Susan Wright
TURN right at the end of the road,” the satnav said to the two women seated in the little green van. “Ooh, almost there. We always said we’d live together, didn’t we?” Tilly said. “That’s true. I sort
IT’S time to go to the police again,” Mark said. “That’s what I think.” “We all think that,” Lydia snapped. “We have all got that far, Mark.” The Denzell children glared at each other, then sighed and
Apart from the For Sale board, the house didn’t look any different from the last time I was here. Six months ago now. The day of my father’s funeral. A memory of how fragile my mother appeared that da
YOU can’t just throw it all in a skip, Mum!” Bryony’s voice was muffled by a dust mask as she crouched in the loft space, carefully avoiding bumping her head on the beams. She examined a battered trun
COME on, Auntie Jo – your turn!” Seven-year-old Sophie pushed the little cubes of wood across the table towards her aunt. Jo glanced at the clock and sighed. Still another 10 minutes before her niece
Lou stirred her hot chocolate. Her half-hearted diet wasn’t going well, or rather, had never truly started. It felt impossible in this chilly weather to contemplate salads and bottled water instead of