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As a child I was always getting into one scrape or another . . .
BY TERESA ASHBY
OPEN wide!” my little sister Mia cried, as she clambered up beside Dad on the sofa. “OK, but you’re just having a look,” Dad answered, lowering his newspaper to his lap. “No poking about in there.” He
MY mum and dad don’t live together. They split up two years ago, when I was eight. I mostly live with Mum, in our cosy semi-detached house where I have my own bedroom. But I also have my own room in D
WHEN Jade’s phone rang and the name “Mum” appeared on screen, her first reaction was to reject the call. Her mum communicated with her frequently, normally by text message, and often for the most mund
I WOKE up after a vivid dream of Eleanor. I’d had quite a few recently. Eleanor was my half-sister. She was older than me – the daughter of Dad’s first wife, Dorrie. My mum only found out he had a fir
Marcie’s life had taken a brutal turn, but she vowed to prove everybody wrong…
At the end of the road I live on in Herne Bay in Kent, there’s a bench. It overlooks the sea and is a place I often go when I want to clear my mind. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve sat the