What the heart wants

IT had been a long, hard drive. Frances had left early, hoping to get away before the rush hour – only to discover that the rush hour started earlier still. She stopped for a break further south than

SKYE, your parents are here with me.” Skye had to resist the temptation to end the call at once. “You don’t understand. They’re the reason I’m running away –” “They told me what the matter is,” Steph

Georgie lived to dance – and now her dream job was within her grasp

THE clamour of seagulls woke Frances. For a moment, she was disorientated. Not so much in place – she knew this bedroom well – as in time. She had the odd feeling that none of the last 30-odd years ha

MORWENNA stood motionless, the gusting wind buffeting her. The music she could hear came in snatches, brought to her on the waves of the wind. There was a pale moon. If she got to the headland, she mi

THE performance had been Don’s suggestion. “You’ll have to dance in front of someone soon. At least you’ll have a friendly audience for your first attempt.” That’s why several of the Growing Shoots da