Two trips to paris

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Merrie couldn’t find her husband anywhere. The day before Christmas Eve was always busy and at 9.30am she’d expect to find him in the warehouse, checking on packing and loading and last-minute orders.

The September sun was still warm when I reached the familiar stretch of beach. I glanced up at a messy display of cotton-wool clouds in the sky. They were bobbing randomly overhead and I almost felt I

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THE thought of three days at sea, crossing the Bay of Biscay, was unsettling me even before the liner had left Southampton. Yet I had no choice but to travel to Cadiz. I looked down from the promenade