Part two of a new short story by kate glanville the damask rose

IT had been a long, hard drive. Frances had left early, hoping to get away before the rush hour – only to discover that the rush hour started earlier still. She stopped for a break further south than

Chloe thought looking after her mum’s cat would be simple…

THE clamour of seagulls woke Frances. For a moment, she was disorientated. Not so much in place – she knew this bedroom well – as in time. She had the odd feeling that none of the last 30-odd years ha

A hopeless romantic, Chloe believed every story should have a happy ever after

I n the corner of the drawing room ...

It took me a while to love roses as a plant. I had always admired the flowers in the kind of knee-jerk way that most of us love sunsets or the song of a blackbird, but I had no feeling for them as pla