Irene’s war

SATURDAYS were no fun when Mum was on shift. She’d made it clear that while she was at the hospital, whoever was left in the house was expected to get on with all the jobs that had to be done. Today t

FOUR out of five sums wrong, Irene. Go and take another look at them and keep your wits about you this time.” Miss Simpson spoke sharply, and Irene kept her head down as she scuttled back to her desk.

They were childhood pals – but was their relationship picking up steam?

MUM?” Becky said. “When did you know Dad was the man for you?” “What? Pretty early, I think,” Frances replied, taken aback. “It’s so far in the past, I can’t remember.” “It’s important. Try and think

POSTERS for a touring circus blossomed in shop windows, and on any vacant stretch of boarding. Some were pasted on top of other posters, from many seasons ago. They were a snowstorm of colour to catch

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