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Perhaps war widow Constance could finally look to the future . . .
BY SARA PARTIN
It was 1963 and things were changing – but had Judith been left behind?
THE fire in the great hall burned brightly to welcome Lady Dunstone’s guests to the event of the season, the Dunstone Manor Christmas Ball. The Manor was splendid this year. Snow glittered on the tree
MISS, I say hold on!” a distant male voice called. Briefly glancing over her shoulder while emerging from Evelyn’s the furriers, Molly Warley smartened her pace and continued walking along London’s Sl
HELLO, little one!” Penny Dauntless greeted a robin-redbreast, who cocked his head as she pushed along her trolley of post on the daily round. “How often is there such a perfect mid-December morning?”
IT was two days until Christmas and the afternoon sky was blue and crisp as Lydia’s car pulled up in front of the magnificent Bristol Hotel. Why was it called the Bristol? she wondered. It was nowhere
IF there was one thing Glenda Williams had always been proud of, it was her organisational skills. At school, the other girls had always come to her for help when sorting out their revision timetables