Author: Harlan Covington

Victor Harper was only three when his mother was taken from him. She fell, screaming, as a roaring motorbike

During dinner, my daughter slipped a tiny folded note onto the table, almost invisible. Pretend youre

I still remember the night I saw the gift my husband had bought for his colleague and how it cost me

Hey love, its Charlie here, your big, floppyeared Labrador. Im the kind of lad that makes everyone smile

Where theres kin, theres a kerfuffle, as the old saying goes. Mabel, born in a tiny hamlet in the Cotswolds

I overheard my husbands chat with his mate and finally understood why he really married me.

At our yearly family gathering by the mistshrouded waters of Windermere, my sixyearold daughter, Poppy

I was late. Again I was late for the meeting with the restaurant manager, the very man who would sign

Roy Clarke stood beneath the towering windows of St.Marys Hospital, his hand waving at the figure emerging

I promise to love your son as if he were my own. Rest in peace Harry Hart was a man who seemed to have it all.