Scotland’s lost villages

A NEW year; a new millennium – the year 2000. Barbara leaned back against a massive boulder and gazed up at the canopy of stars. The other walkers in the group had fallen silent. There was nothing to

MRS Sefton, my dear, we are moving,” Lord Denning Sefton announced to his wife. “We are?” she asked. “To where, my love?” “It seems that my great-uncle has left me a property in Derbyshire: Marchdale

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Maggie smoothes down the front of her frock – the same dyed black dress she wore for Pa’s funeral ten years before. As she touches the fabric, she glances down at her hands, now decorated with liver s