Mother’s day at the cat café

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

SELINA positioned the six-week-old baby in the soft, knitted cocoon she used for the purpose. She smiled at the little boy, having a photo shoot with his proud parents. As a younger woman she’d relish

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

WILL your grandad be coming to the Remembrance Day lunch, Joy?” Stella’s mum asked hopefully. “I was just –” “Mum!” Stella flashed her mother a warning look, then slid her eyes towards the stairs. We’

T RACY’S passing a box of teacakes across the scanner. She’s also chatting to one of her favourite customers – Mrs P – when her eyes stray to the clock in the corner of her screen. Ten-thirty a.m. on

Mae pulled her car in close to the curb, directly opposite the small two-bedroom bungalow belonging to her grandmother. She paused for a moment. Mae made a conscious effort to visit at least once a we