Well played!

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

GRAN, can’t you do something about him? I’m trying to concentrate on my homework here.” Wendy’s thirteen-year-old granddaughter had the eye roll and withering tone down perfectly as she motioned towar

LAUREN sat in the audience listening to the excited buzz around her. Amy’s school had made a huge effort to put on this concert to commemorate November the fifth, which was last Wednesday. Tonight, Sa

IRIS walked slowly to the front door of her Victorian villa in Fairley, a sleepy Sussex village. It had begun, she fumed silently – the “invasion” of her home. Of course, she’d been expecting it. Her

SECOND violins, from bar thirty-two – again, please.” Maggie Holloway blinked at the sheet music in front of her, the notes swimming slightly as she adjusted her glasses. Her bow hovered uncertainly a

TOM! What are you doing here?” I stopped gazing at the empty space in the centre of the table, to throw myself into my fiancé’s arms. “You’re not supposed to be here until tonight,” I told him. “I dec