Emily Taylor

Emily didn’t dislike her stepfather—she just couldn’t accept him. After all, who was he to

Everything was perfect until she returned “Emma, what are you doing here?” Emma nearly dropped

It was late when the phone rang. I answered, and heard my daughter’s voice. “Mum, it’s Claire.

The evening light filtered gently through the lace curtains. Hannah set two plates of dinner on the table

Emily didn’t just dislike her stepfather; she found it impossible to accept him. What claim did he have

**Monday, 12th June** *”Fancy some sausage or scrambled eggs?”* Charlotte asked.

In a remote corner of northern England, where the fogs of winter shroud the moors and summer brings swarms

Late one evening, the phone rang with an eerie shrill. I lifted the receiver, and a voice, frayed at

Diary Entry, 14th October 1952 Thornwick, a windswept coastal town where the sea bites the cliffs and

Emily quickly surveyed their cottage. Everything seemed in order, the children’s bows were tied neatly