Deadly deceptions

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

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

GAVIN and I turned to look at each other on the sofa as the television credits rolled. “I know we’ve agreed for a long time that ‘Inspector Bletchley’ is our favourite programme,” I said. “But that wa

IN the rear of her stationary motor-taxi, a young milliner reached up a careful gloved hand to pat her black-felt cloche, snug on her smart, fair curls. Constance Smart had been sitting patiently for

VENITA FITZALAN-BLAKE had never liked dancing. And after treading the length and breadth of Bond Street, Mayfair and Piccadilly, fruitlessly seeking employment, she had good cause to remember why. If

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