Always by damien mckeating

When I was aged 10, the farmers used to come round the schools to pick volunteers to work on the farms during the summer holidays, mainly to help bring in the harvest. The country was still building u

My father was always late. And by late, I mean really late. Like an hour or two. The December I was five, he missed my school nativity. (I was a sheep and Mom had made me a costume out of an old robe

JOSH dabbed expertly at the cut he’d just finished sewing up. He’d made a neat job of it and it should heal very nicely, leaving only a line. It wouldn’t be seen, anyway, once the cat’s fur grew back.

I LOOKED at my allocated “bed” underneath the back window of the caravan and wondered. Firstly, about my chances of getting a good night since I was already sleeping badly. And secondly, what madness

MILK?” Mrs Evans loomed over Alice Campbell’s teacup with a milk jug. The humidity in the tea shop was beginning to wilt the fabric violets in Alice’s little hat. She could see a few of the tiny flowe

THE light was beginning to fade, and as Irene started to scratch her bare arms, she remembered anew one of the few things she disliked about being in the countryside. “The midges are out,” she complai