For love of artemis

FROM its oak panelling to the worn leather chairs, the room was oddly old fashioned. Rather like Ralph Draper himself, Dolly observed, glancing around the private detective’s office. She hadn’t expect

I LIFT my head to the weak sun and give thanks for having survived another winter. It’s good to see the lane is passable, even if there are ruts and puddles. However, I can still see the bones of icy,

ROSALIE’S heart was pounding. Tall and formidable in dark coat and breeches, Thomas Charrel stood in the chapel doorway, his eyes on her for what seemed an age. His expression was grim, his gaze as co

MARIANNE groaned as the sound of the shutters being pushed open woke her from a fitful sleep. She half-opened her eyes, but the sun streaming in was too strong. Turning over, she buried her face in th

MR Oliver Tait?” the policeman said as he and his companion were shown into the charming sitting-room of a suave man in his thirties or thereabouts. “I’m Detective Inspector Wragge and this is WPC Moo

Sibyls , the book born of Ruth Fainlight’s poems and Leonard Baskin’s prints, became a memento of friendship, beauty and sorrow for its author