Harlan Covington

Eleanor surveyed her reflection, adjusting a grey tweed suit. Today Charlotte turned thirty.

Eleanor knocked at my door clutching her shopping bag, shaking her head. “Charlotte, whatever is happening?

Helen sat by the window, watching the street. Buses squealed to identical halts, pedestrians hurried

My diary entry: That’s not the sort I need… “Anthony, get in here!” barked the foreman’s voice through

The moment Eleanor discovered her father’s affair felt like stepping into an illogical dream.

Six years I fed a quiet homeless man behind my bakery – never knowing his name! On my wedding day, twelve

**Diary Entry** Blimey, that infernal racket again! Stomping over to the radiator, I pounded my fist

The receiver slammed down with a finality that echoed in the cramped kitchen. “Don’

**June 12th** “I don’t need a daughter like you!” Mum screamed, shaking a crumpled page.

The dinner ended with divorce. Thomas had invited Sophie over later, and Emma burst out. “