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Short story
Would old Yuletide traditions reveal to Bess the face o
THE toll of church bells was stifled by the winds. Sleet clawed my face as I pushed through the flurry. The orangery’s windows had shattered. Whichever way I turned, rattling, shaking trees bore down.
CAROLS are playing softly, their melodies floating into the kitchen where Miranda is standing at the hob, gently stirring mulled wine. From the bubbling pot, the smell of cinnamon and clove wafts thro
AS you know, Anne and I are early bedders, but there is one night in the year Anne insists we stay up till midnight. That, as you can guess, is New Year’s Eve. On the stroke of midnight Anne pours out
WOULD you look at the man!” Maggie said. She wasn’t much to look at herself, being as black as sin from the coal dust. She’d just finished a shift at the colliery screens, picking lumps of coal out of
WHAT was the man thinking of when he did his shopping? Jessie thought. Two huge, brown paper parcels spilled food on to the kitchen table. Enough to feed a family for a fortnight at least. Slices of t
It was a new year and Tally was at a crossroads – in which direction should she go?