A special gift

Y ou’ve done what?’ Mel threw her bag ...

EVERY time I smell the sweet scent of September air, I am transported back to Alderley Cottage. I am walking up the garden path strewn with grass and twigs towards a faded blue painted door with a bro

AFTER Louisa’s funeral, her friends and neighbours gathered together in September Cottage. Her home, just like the church had been, was full of autumn flowers. Louisa had been born in September, which

RETIREMENT, for Maisie, had exceeded all expectations so far. In the year since she’d stopped working, she had established a new daily routine that involved lots of walking, reading and meeting friend

DEIRDRE leaned back on her sunbed and sighed. The view couldn’t have been more beautiful: rocky arid terrain rising from the sea, boats pottering about in the bay . . . Nearby, a luxury yacht was anch

CATHY grunted as she struggled to open a jar of marmalade. Standing tall and athletic, amidst boxes piled high on the scarred wooden table in her new farmhouse kitchen, she inhaled the scents of woods