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Were there more sparks flying than those coming from the bonfire?
BY BETH WATS
NEW YEAR’S EVE ”Have you made any resolutions?” Sophie asked. Emma put her phone on speaker as she poured a cup of tea. No Champagne for her tonight. “No. Every year I resolve to exercise more and tak
WOULD you look at the man!” Maggie said. She wasn’t much to look at herself, being as black as sin from the coal dust. She’d just finished a shift at the colliery screens, picking lumps of coal out of
I WOKE up after a vivid dream of Eleanor. I’d had quite a few recently. Eleanor was my half-sister. She was older than me – the daughter of Dad’s first wife, Dorrie. My mum only found out he had a fir
THE Janus Inn’s sign swung ominously in the gathering wind as Mairi and her bundle stood outside. Waiting for the coachman to appear, she looked towards the stout, ancient building, glad of the carous
THE toll of church bells was stifled by the winds. Sleet clawed my face as I pushed through the flurry. The orangery’s windows had shattered. Whichever way I turned, rattling, shaking trees bore down.
AUNT ESME’S Christmas gifts were always a surprise. She either raided the local charity shops, rummaged through the middle aisle of the big supermarkets, or won some random competition online. Rowena