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Rain or shine, there’s no place like home for Christmas
By Beth Mckay
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
AS I hang my clothes in the wardrobe of the hotel room we’re sharing, I feel my sister Clare’s eyes on me. Through a mirror, I catch the thoughtful look on her face. It’s a look that’s often there, bu
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
I LIFT my head to the weak sun and give thanks for having survived another winter. It’s good to see the lane is passable, even if there are ruts and puddles. However, I can still see the bones of icy,
WHAT sort of accident?” Declan looked worried. “Is your mother OK?” “Mum’s fine,” Tara said. “It’s Phyllis. “Mel – that’s her daughter – was driving her home and they tried to cross the ford. “With al
AMELIA arrives home from her half-day at work. She has the week’s shopping and quickly squirrels everything away, leaving just her children’s magazines on the kitchen table. Seeing she only has three-