Back to you

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

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

I’D seen an advertisement in my father’s newspaper for women to work on the canal boats. It said applicants should be of a robust constitution. I’m quite robust, so why not? I’d give it a go. “Look, D

GRAN, you know I love the hotel. But I’m not the person you need,” Emma said. “You publicise those events you run,” her gran, Betty, replied. “I’m sure you could use some of those skills to help build

Serial part 4

PAPA! Papa, come on!” Small fingers pull at Will’s hand. He looks down at his four-year-old daughter. She is heading towards the cottage, intent on getting home to her mother. “Go ahead, Mercy,” Will