Harlan Covington

The Number You Forgot “Mum, how many times must we go through this?” Emily flung her mobile

The Second Doesn’t Mean Less “Mum, I don’t want to go to Grandma’s!” screeched seven-year-old

**A Saturday with Family** “Don’t you dare start on diets again!” Emily snapped, waving her

**Diary Entry – 10th May** “Stop whinging – just get on with it!” The sharp voice of my neighbour, Mrs.

“My Wife’s Son Took My Room” “You’ve got to be joking, Daniel! That’s my room!”

**The Next Step is Mine** “Valerie, have you completely lost your mind?” The sharp voice

**The Only One Who Understands Me** *”What’s for lunch?”* asked George, sniffing the air. *”

The county fairgrounds in Windermere always felt too loud, too sticky, too vast for someone as quiet

—Mum, please don’t say you forgot!—Emily shrieked as she burst into the hallway, tossing her designer

Every morning, Emily Carter, 28, fastened her well-worn green apron and welcomed the regulars at The