A season of goodwill

SYLVIA Havilland did not know what would be in her grandmother’s will, but she had a good guess. Granny Havilland had been dead six months, but only now were her lawyers able to summon a small family

POSTERS for a touring circus blossomed in shop windows, and on any vacant stretch of boarding. Some were pasted on top of other posters, from many seasons ago. They were a snowstorm of colour to catch

I’D like to visit the factory, Raymond,” Helen Steele announced. “We have been in Bedford for more than a fortnight now and I still have not taken a look around.” “You shall,” her husband said. “Let’s

BYE, Mum, Dad. See you later!” fifteen-year-old Ailsa called, heading for the door. Her mum stopped her. “Oh no, you don’t. Breakfast first.” “There’s food laid on. Trish told me,” Ailsa said. “You’re

MUM?” Becky said. “When did you know Dad was the man for you?” “What? Pretty early, I think,” Frances replied, taken aback. “It’s so far in the past, I can’t remember.” “It’s important. Try and think

MILLICENT MACK replaced the mouthpiece of their candlestick phone and stepped away from the hall table. A quiet little smile touched her mouth and brought amber lights to fleck her pretty eyes. She mi