Emily Taylor

That night I forced my son and daughterinlaw out of the house and took their keys; the moment had arrived

I often think back to that winter in the little village of Brookfield, when my mother, Margaret Whitmore

Marmaduke was perched on the gate, waiting. Day after day, then two, then a week The first snow fell

I walked out of the gate of the old bearing works, a crumpled payslip tucked into my jacket pocket.

He refused to marry his pregnant girlfriend. His mother backed him, but his father stood up for the unborn child.

The bus let me off in front of the walled garden of the councilrun assisted living block at precisely

Stay at a friends while my aunt from York spends a month here, my husband says, shoving my suitcase toward the door.

When Leonor got home from work on a Friday night, she had no idea that the evening would alter her life forever.

My husband always believed I was clueless about his other family, so when I turned up at his daughters

Emma returns from her sick leave, only to find that her spot in the office has been taken by her husbands sister.