It isnt a toy Why on earth would you want a child, Nora? Youre pushing forty! Children are for the young
Auntie Rita Im forty-seven. Nothing special about me just an ordinary woman, invisible, really, a proper
December 31 Where am I supposed to put this massive bowl of pork pie jelly? Aunt Margaret grumbled, wrestling
It is strange, now, thinking back on how that day unfoldedmy 70th birthday, an age that once seemed a
My mother-in-law shifted the delicacies from my fridge into her own handbag before leaving –
Tell James to get here right now! my sister shouted, clutching the phone. All three little ones are running
Dear Diary, The phone rang just after dusk. A voice on the other end said, Your husband has been in an accident.
Winter had wrapped Georges garden in a thick, soft quilt of snow, but his loyal dog Max, a massive Alsatian
Aunt Rita Im 47. Just an ordinary woman, the sort most people dont notice. Dull as dishwater, really.
Michael froze: from behind the old oak, a dog gazed at him with a look so mournful, hed have recognised









