Spirit of the times

L If they’re ever looking to recruit spies, forget handsome, fit, blue-eyed Bonds. Forget gym-buffed Daniel, impossibly good-looking Tom and danger magnet Matt. Look instead for a middle-aged woman in

Novels, for me, have come from somewhere I wasn’t looking. In my twenties I was carrying an idea about a woman wandering around Ireland on a quest she didn’t understand and I sat in the Reading Room o

Life has a bad habit of mirroring art. Sometimes, this can be in a deeply sad way. A while after I wrote about the assumption of guilt in a traumatised young woman with poor social skills, I watched a

ELLEN was expecting someone else entirely when Hugh walked into the Black Horse. She dropped the cloth she’d been using to polish the bar and flashed her best welcoming smile. “Hi Ellen,” Hugh greeted

I’ve just returned from three magical days in the Lake District. Craggy mountains, mist over the fells, and the gentle hum of a Herdwick sheep or two. I stayed near Hill Top, once home to Beatrix Pott

Finally reaching the island, Beth realised something was very wrong