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

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

HOW many handbags do you have, Gran?” Meggie was in the spare room at her grandparents’ house. She looked at the array of handbags on the bed. “I haven’t got that many,” her grandmother Rose protested

ELLA stood in the church porch, chatting nervously to the other bridesmaid. They were waiting for Julia, the mother of the bride. Ella had glanced inside the church when she first arrived to check whe

I’LL buy you another one.” Bill patted Emily’s back as she cried inconsolably. “But it was so stupid of me,” she told him. “Why didn’t I take it off?” She’d been working in the garden for four hours i

She yearned to leave the factory floor behind – but would Rosie’s dream ever come true?

Clearing her late mother’s house, Milla Reed from Banbury, Oxfordshire, couldn’t believe what she uncovered – or the emotional journey she was about to go on