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Molly and Her Mice I keep a blog—I’m a psychologist, and I write about my life. A few weeks ago, I met

The canteen hummed with the chatter of students, the clink of cutlery, and the stubborn whir of the vending

Polly had always been a well-behaved child. She did well in school and never gave her mother or grandmother

“So it was you who arranged all this, Gran?” asked Emily, gazing at the portrait. After the row with

Lucy set out the porridge bowls, drawing a funny face with jam on her son’s. “Boys! Breakfast!”

“How can you not? She was your mother. You wept by her bedside, and now you won’t bury her?”

**A Home for Sons** Edward was the sort of man who could do anything he set his mind to. He built a house

“So, you planned all this, Grandma?” asked Julia, staring at the portrait. After the fight

So, there I was, sitting across from my little girl at this lovely little café in Manchester, watching

**Diary Entry – 24th May** I sat across from my daughter in that charming little café in Brighton, watching