NOTHING said “home” like the kitchen of Nant-y-Bri Farm at breakfast time. Delicious frying pan smells hung heavy in the air and the scrape of cutlery on willow pattern plates indicated the family had

‘A re you sure you want the car?’ Angie ...

I HOPE this is the last time I’ll sit at home watching the Winter Olympics on telly,” I said. Jayne Torvill and Christopher Dean were kneeling on the ice. “In four years’ time, I want to be there, cov

BRUSHING wind-whipped hair from her eyes, Catriona crouched, scanning the colourful smorgasbord of stones, seaweed and shells on the shoreline. There! Half-hidden under an empty limpet. A cowrie. Gent

L AURA phoned her mother, trying to keep her voice light. “Hello, Mum, I’ve got a bit of news,” she said. “Hannah’s moving in with her boyfriend. “I need to either get a new flatmate, or try to find s

AS their Morris Minor drew up before the Green Gables Hotel, Clarice Rayne heaved a sigh. Not only was it luxury to travel to the seaside in their own transportation, but she was here with her husband