A season for suspects

THE fire in the great hall burned brightly to welcome Lady Dunstone’s guests to the event of the season, the Dunstone Manor Christmas Ball. The Manor was splendid this year. Snow glittered on the tree

IT was two days until Christmas and the afternoon sky was blue and crisp as Lydia’s car pulled up in front of the magnificent Bristol Hotel. Why was it called the Bristol? she wondered. It was nowhere

It was 1963 and things were changing – but had Judith been left behind?

Alan, don’t you think it’s time you got cleaned up? Grantham’s coming to tea.” Helen looked at her sixteen-year-old son’s filthy overalls and grease-streaked arms. “I wish you wouldn’t get quite so di

It was going to be a quiet festive season for me, just the way I liked it (I told myself). I’d gone back to spend Christmas with my parents in our small home town. This year, however, Mum and Dad were

HELLO, little one!” Penny Dauntless greeted a robin-redbreast, who cocked his head as she pushed along her trolley of post on the daily round. “How often is there such a perfect mid-December morning?”