The fiend next door

IT was what Wendy’s mum would have called a “mulling things over” day. As Wendy gazed out of the café window, puffy clouds sailed in a sky of stone-washed denim. It was the sort of day she and Ray had

Lucy checked that her hotel door was locked before setting off for breakfast. Forty-five years old and this was the first time she had ever been on holiday alone. At first everything had been a stress

STARING out of her window at the small garden, Gemma sighed. It was nothing like the large rambling garden she’d had at her old house and there were times when she really missed it. If she were honest

S a ffy and Neil had been married ...

HAVE you seen Cedric recently?” Kath asked her husband, Dave. She was standing by the back door calling for their cat. “No, I’ve not seen him since breakfast.” Dave was scrolling through useless infor

PAM glanced up at the clock on the far wall of the classroom. Just half an hour to go until the summer holidays began. Six blissful pupil-free weeks, to be spent mostly gardening and binge watching pe