The seashell summer

IRIS walked slowly to the front door of her Victorian villa in Fairley, a sleepy Sussex village. It had begun, she fumed silently – the “invasion” of her home. Of course, she’d been expecting it. Her

Are you sure, love? Why not go on a nice holiday with a friend instead?” “Honestly, Mum,” Lucy said, a touch impatiently. “I’m thirty, not a teenager! I want to travel, be on my own for a while. Since

As a father, I should have been suspicious when Michael turned up looking so smart. He was taking my daughter, Katie, out for a meal but was wearing a neat blue jacket and he’d had his hair cut. Katie

TOM! What are you doing here?” I stopped gazing at the empty space in the centre of the table, to throw myself into my fiancé’s arms. “You’re not supposed to be here until tonight,” I told him. “I dec

I WAS lonely. Papa was a preacher and we lived and travelled in a painted wooden wagon, pulled by Jessie, a large and docile shire horse. We had few possessions; there was no room for what Papa called

SELINA positioned the six-week-old baby in the soft, knitted cocoon she used for the purpose. She smiled at the little boy, having a photo shoot with his proud parents. As a younger woman she’d relish