A hand on the helm

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

MARIE peered out of the front room window, wondering if people would be on time. And not only that – what if nobody showed? She let the net curtain drop, listening to the kettle whistling in the kitch

THE buildings on either side of the street seemed to bend in upon Meg Talbot. Their upper windows were looming as she picked her way through the slime and detritus. She could hardly see the September

All night?” Mark’s eyes widened behind his NHS specs. “You’re not scared, are you?” Ryan teased, but with a friendly smile. “Of course I’m not scared!” Mark puffed out his chest. “But I don’t think Mu

The mini digger we hired was bright yellow. It sounded like a bus and belched out black smoke. Phil, looking like he sat upon a child’s toy, aimed it down the garden after the hire company unloaded it

THE Misses Frobisher were new to Durham. They had chosen the city as their place of residence for its size. It was a proper city, but not so large that one could not walk from one end to the other eas