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Was her grandaughter losing her interest in Amelia’s beloved theatre?
BY BARBA
I WAS lonely. Papa was a preacher and we lived and travelled in a painted wooden wagon, pulled by Jessie, a large and docile shire horse. We had few possessions; there was no room for what Papa called
LAUREN sat in the audience listening to the excited buzz around her. Amy’s school had made a huge effort to put on this concert to commemorate November the fifth, which was last Wednesday. Tonight, Sa
A WAVE the size of a house crashed down upon the deck. Soaked to the skin, Dinah landed in a crumpled sail at the foot of the mast. “I had another of those stress dreams,” Dinah said, when Ken joined
SECOND violins, from bar thirty-two – again, please.” Maggie Holloway blinked at the sheet music in front of her, the notes swimming slightly as she adjusted her glasses. Her bow hovered uncertainly a
TOM! What are you doing here?” I stopped gazing at the empty space in the centre of the table, to throw myself into my fiancé’s arms. “You’re not supposed to be here until tonight,” I told him. “I dec
ISOBEL had known that living in her old childhood home would bring back memories. However, she never expected so many, or for them to be so vivid. Sometimes, in the last minutes before waking, she ima