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FICTION SPECIAL
Her husband was on a life or death mission – but Jess nee
G av drove home, glancing up at the ...
MARIE peered out of the front room window, wondering if people would be on time. And not only that – what if nobody showed? She let the net curtain drop, listening to the kettle whistling in the kitch
MICHELE RUSPOLI felt a little less agitated, now that he was inside the library, but all around was evidence of the flood. Books had been laid out haphazardly on pieces of matting, all leather-bound,
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
A WAVE the size of a house crashed down upon the deck. Soaked to the skin, Dinah landed in a crumpled sail at the foot of the mast. “I had another of those stress dreams,” Dinah said, when Ken joined
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