A beacon of hope

AS I hang my clothes in the wardrobe of the hotel room we’re sharing, I feel my sister Clare’s eyes on me. Through a mirror, I catch the thoughtful look on her face. It’s a look that’s often there, bu

IT was a clear early spring day, the breeze light and the sands empty. Sea and land seemed to go on forever, their divisions blurred by light and distance. Brigitte Wetherby breathed in the salty air

BY the time spring began edging into Fileby, Margaret had almost forgotten the feel of warm air on her face. All winter the valley had held its breath. The fields were a single quiet sheet, the hedges

IT’S time to go to the police again,” Mark said. “That’s what I think.” “We all think that,” Lydia snapped. “We have all got that far, Mark.” The Denzell children glared at each other, then sighed and

I LIFT my head to the weak sun and give thanks for having survived another winter. It’s good to see the lane is passable, even if there are ruts and puddles. However, I can still see the bones of icy,

YOU can’t just throw it all in a skip, Mum!” Bryony’s voice was muffled by a dust mask as she crouched in the loft space, carefully avoiding bumping her head on the beams. She examined a battered trun