Drifting back

I WOKE up after a vivid dream of Eleanor. I’d had quite a few recently. Eleanor was my half-sister. She was older than me – the daughter of Dad’s first wife, Dorrie. My mum only found out he had a fir

I stood by the kitchen window; phone pressed to my ear. Outside, frost shimmered across the lawn, and the weak winter sun filtered through the trees. “So, what do you think?” I said to Phoebe. “A post

KAREN is my oldest and closest friend. We met when we were eleven, seated side by side on the first day of secondary school, and instantly hit it off. She was tall and thin with long, straight, fair h

Most people are glued to their phones these days, but my sister won’t go anywhere without her notebook. She bought it after we went on a writing course, and she took it out of her bag as soon as I par

RIGHT. I have come to a decision,” Mel said one weekend, as she cleared away the breakfast things. “In that case, I’m off. Bye, Mum, see you later!” “Wait, Seth. Stay exactly where you are! You have n

Many of us feel the pull to head ‘home’ after a stint elsewhere, but as Amy Swales attests, sometimes moving back to where you grew up can be unexpectedly confronting