Just the job

LOTS of people who meet Jean and me seem to be under the impression that we’ve been friends since we were girls, but this is not the case. I was in my seventies when I first met Jean. I’d felt rather

AFTER a while, the hole in the bathroom floor became as familiar to Mary as her own reflection in the mirror over the sink. She contacted six tradespersons she found online before one agreed to even c

STARING out of her window at the small garden, Gemma sighed. It was nothing like the large rambling garden she’d had at her old house and there were times when she really missed it. If she were honest

BYE, Mum, Dad. See you later!” fifteen-year-old Ailsa called, heading for the door. Her mum stopped her. “Oh no, you don’t. Breakfast first.” “There’s food laid on. Trish told me,” Ailsa said. “You’re

THIS is very kind of you, Mrs Laxford. I’ll look after it, I promise,” Esther assured her landlady, wheeling the sturdy black bicycle down the path. “Looking after yourself is the most important thing

I’VE never met anyone who writes letters before. Not with actual pen and writing paper.” From the way Abbie is looking at me, anyone could be forgiven for thinking I am in the middle of some complicat