Helen Harris always enjoyed her afternoon tea with Martha Evert, and as she knocked on the door carrying a treat of two chocolate muffins, she looked forward to an hour or two of catching up with her

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MARIE peered out of the front room window, wondering if people would be on time. And not only that – what if nobody showed? She let the net curtain drop, listening to the kettle whistling in the kitch

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IRIS walked slowly to the front door of her Victorian villa in Fairley, a sleepy Sussex village. It had begun, she fumed silently – the “invasion” of her home. Of course, she’d been expecting it. Her

The garden was a blank canvas when I first moved in. A single tree. A lawn invaded by alkanet. London clay so hard you couldn’t push a spade in. I was more concerned with urgent matters such as the de