Here comes the bride!

IT had been a long, hard drive. Frances had left early, hoping to get away before the rush hour – only to discover that the rush hour started earlier still. She stopped for a break further south than

BETH felt her heart pound as she made haste towards the Whitechapel Road. Why had Mrs Mears let out such a cry and thrown down the newspaper with unseemly urgency? Why had she bidden her maid to fetch

PAPA! Papa, come on!” Small fingers pull at Will’s hand. He looks down at his four-year-old daughter. She is heading towards the cottage, intent on getting home to her mother. “Go ahead, Mercy,” Will

Mary was as good as any lad – and she was going to prove it

THE last specks of rain of the previous night’s storm pattered against the widow of the drawing-room. Meryl Stewart sat at the keyboard of her baby grand, working her way through the piano arrangement

I PULLED back the living-room curtains and stopped singing along to the radio, frozen to the spot. How could this be? It was a beautiful morning. The sun was shining, the birds had been singing up a s