A bit of sparkle

STAY still,” a strong, male voice commanded from the gloom. The autumn sun was setting on Wildwood Cottage, silhouetting its undulating structure dramatically against a charcoal and orange sky. “Well,

M aura carried the donations bag through from the charity shop to the cluttered back room, where Terese was researching a promising looking oriental bowl online. “Excuse me, Terese, but a very smartly

What memories lay within its crumbling walls? Fiona was about to find out

VENITA FITZALAN-BLAKE had never liked dancing. And after treading the length and breadth of Bond Street, Mayfair and Piccadilly, fruitlessly seeking employment, she had good cause to remember why. If

The mini digger we hired was bright yellow. It sounded like a bus and belched out black smoke. Phil, looking like he sat upon a child’s toy, aimed it down the garden after the hire company unloaded it

GROWING up in a mansion house in Ireland, writer Gabrielle Mullarkey would drift off to sleep with the sheets pulled up to her eyes as nocturnal noises echoed through the old building. Often, the stai