SARAH DITUM

STAY still,” a strong, male voice commanded from the gloom. The autumn sun was setting on Wildwood Cottage, silhouetting its undulating structure dramatically against a charcoal and orange sky. “Well,

The mini digger we hired was bright yellow. It sounded like a bus and belched out black smoke. Phil, looking like he sat upon a child’s toy, aimed it down the garden after the hire company unloaded it

A h, right. So Phil can’t take you? Well, I can drive you and Jack to the Christmas tree place, Tara,’ my new neighbour Nick offered. ‘Oh, that’s a kind offer. I know it’s a bit early, but we like to

Joanne was on cloud nine with her cabin crew fella. But when he grew close to a co-worker, she sensed turbulence ahead…

GROWING up in a mansion house in Ireland, writer Gabrielle Mullarkey would drift off to sleep with the sheets pulled up to her eyes as nocturnal noises echoed through the old building. Often, the stai