Author: Emily Taylor
History Repeats Itself It was one of those winter evenings in London when dusk settled over the city
A Sofa from the Nineties Darlings, weve got a surprise for you! Mum was beaming, her eyes sparkling as
Julias Revenge The autumn rain taps gloomily on the minibus window as Julia stares through the streaks
New Year’s Eve began with a lull, appearing to stretch endlessly, until the stranger chose their table.
Im a wornout single mum, scrubbing floors for a living. On my way home one bitter winter morning I heard
Money for the Past Anna steps out of the university after her last lecture. The day has been busylectures
The Son Who Turned His Mother In Margaret Wilkinson, aged 68, stood by her half-open bedroom door holding
The Smell of Old Peoples Home Do you know what you smell of? An old peoples home. Camphor and age.
Have a chat with me, Muffin “Dont be afraid, Muffin. Its alright. Theyll shout a bit more and then
Lydia George Williams looked critically at his trousers and shirt, irritation flickering across his face









