Europe
Asia
Oceania
Americas
Africa
Yes, there were happy memories – but her marriage was over now
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
IRIS walked slowly to the front door of her Victorian villa in Fairley, a sleepy Sussex village. It had begun, she fumed silently – the “invasion” of her home. Of course, she’d been expecting it. Her
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
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
Are you sure, love? Why not go on a nice holiday with a friend instead?” “Honestly, Mum,” Lucy said, a touch impatiently. “I’m thirty, not a teenager! I want to travel, be on my own for a while. Since
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