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Could Katie trust her daughters to sort out their suitcases?
BY ALISON CARTER
YOU can’t just throw it all in a skip, Mum!” Bryony’s voice was muffled by a dust mask as she crouched in the loft space, carefully avoiding bumping her head on the beams. She examined a battered trun
COME on, Auntie Jo – your turn!” Seven-year-old Sophie pushed the little cubes of wood across the table towards her aunt. Jo glanced at the clock and sighed. Still another 10 minutes before her niece
WHEN Kate had decided, at the age of fifty-five, to reduce her working hours and go part-time at her job, she had imagined filling her extra days off with all kinds of exciting adventures. Instead, sh
IT’S time to go to the police again,” Mark said. “That’s what I think.” “We all think that,” Lydia snapped. “We have all got that far, Mark.” The Denzell children glared at each other, then sighed and
Apart from the For Sale board, the house didn’t look any different from the last time I was here. Six months ago now. The day of my father’s funeral. A memory of how fragile my mother appeared that da
Ellie was looking to her future – until she saw a face from her past