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The day of the performance had finally arrived . . .
BY STEFANIA HARTLEY
AFTER seven years at my primary school, I can say I absolutely love our headteacher. Her name is Mrs Best and she really is the best. She always makes sure we have something to look forward to. Every
IF there was one thing Glenda Williams had always been proud of, it was her organisational skills. At school, the other girls had always come to her for help when sorting out their revision timetables
JOHANN KERNER saw the woman coming out of the darkness. She looked ancient and she moved as slowly as a snail, her back bent. She was the most likely source of information he had seen on his travels.
WHAT’S that racket?” Rae looked around. “It’s Jake. Your son,” she called, smiling. “He’s bought a second-hand drum kit.” Leo winced as another loud crash echoed down the stairs, then he took off his
It was 1963 and things were changing – but had Judith been left behind?
Julia, do hurry up! You don’t want to be late on your first day.” It’s Mum calling up from the hall. The face staring back at me from the mirror is tense and pale and even under all that makeup the fr