Harlan Covington

Never stop believing in happiness Once, in the bloom of youth, Eleanor drifted into a bustling fair in Brighton.

The choice is yours, Agnes, he said, his voice low but firm, as if the words themselves could seal a fate.

The heir of a wealthy family climbed onto a table and shouted at the waitress, but what she did next

I remember that winter night three decades ago, when I was walking back from the corner shop in the little

When Mr Thomas Avery turned thirty, his address book listed no wife, no childrenjust a rented terraced

He knelt by the low table he had set up on the cobbled pavement, cradling his infant. Please, I dont

Victor Mills, fresh from tucking his meagre evening catch into a wicker basket and making his way down

Fate extended a hand Emily Carter seemed to have a normal family: a father, John, and a mother, Helen

Son, explain what you saw in her? Evelyn Harts voice sliced through the kitchens hush. A girl from the

The fog lifts Lately Sarah Finch spends a lot of time wondering about her life. It feels dull every day