Emily Taylor

**Laughter Through the Hurt** Evelyn Whitmore set a bowl of beef stew in front of her granddaughter and

**Diary Entry – 16th October** Bloody hell, that racket again. “Turn that blasted telly down!”

**The Third Room – Not for Guests** “Don’t you dare go in there!” Margaret Hastings snapped, rushing

“No, Edward! Absolutely not!” banged her fist on the kitchen table, making the teacups rattle. “

**Silence Behind the Wall** “Would you turn that damned telly down!” Margaret shouted, hammering

Eleanor Whitmore stood by the window, her palm pressed against the cold glass, watching as the caretaker, old Mr.

The Neighbour Knew Too Much “Margaret! Margaret, wait a moment!” called Mr. Thompson from

Mabel Whitby stood by the window, her palm pressed against the glass, watching as old Tom the caretaker

“You’ve brought suitcases!” “Have you lost your mind? Where do you expect me

She Was the First Evelyn Whitmore rose at five in the morning, as always. Forty years of factory work