Postcard from positano

EVERYONE seems to have a favourite season, don’t they? My sister, for example, has always loved winter. She says there’s nothing to beat a cold, clear day when the ground is hard and sparkling with fr

EXCITEDLY opening slatted wooden shutters, Evie stepped on to the balcony, greeting the day. Her delicate pink silk robe was barely fluttering in the warm breeze drifting in from the sea. She smiled.

June walked through the sandstone arches into the small cobbled courtyard. Setting her suitcase down, she looked around, but she was alone. Walking over to what looked like a restaurant, she peered in

J e an’s hand trembled as she pulled ...

HELLO! I’m in the garden,” Rachel called out when she heard the car door bang shut. The six-foot gate separating the drive from the back garden swung open and a smiling, but tired-looking Jack appeare

Creaking into the dusty, lookout point, Jessie pulled on the handbrake. Jumping out, she slammed the door. Clouds of grit tailed her maxi skirt to the front of the camper van. Lifting the bonnet, Jess