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

Mae pulled her car in close to the curb, directly opposite the small two-bedroom bungalow belonging to her grandmother. She paused for a moment. Mae made a conscious effort to visit at least once a we

G av drove home, glancing up at the ...

After school, she is all mine. I drag my bike through the garage’s side door, careful not to catch my leg on the oily chain and cycle off. It’s not far. The big kids are draining out of the comp. Thei

THE buildings on either side of the street seemed to bend in upon Meg Talbot. Their upper windows were looming as she picked her way through the slime and detritus. She could hardly see the September

SARAH DITUM