Here come the girls

D inah was not a Christmas cook. Her ...

HELLO, little one!” Penny Dauntless greeted a robin-redbreast, who cocked his head as she pushed along her trolley of post on the daily round. “How often is there such a perfect mid-December morning?”

THIS year, Vanessa was going to have a different kind of festive season. She usually hosted Christmas for her family at her house, even after her husband passed away a few years ago. Every second year

Betty Middleton had only moved in two weeks earlier, but already she was starting to annoy me with her frequent knocks at my back door. “Would you like a slice of my lemon drizzle? It’s home-made!” No

Julia, do hurry up! You don’t want to be late on your first day.” It’s Mum calling up from the hall. The face staring back at me from the mirror is tense and pale and even under all that makeup the fr

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