Dear Diary, The children I raised have already picked out a plot for me in the graveyard. Theres one
Mum, I forgive you, I heard her whisper, and her voice cracked like old plaster. Margaret Whitmore lay
Dear Diary, We were planning to ring in the New Year at your cottage, I announced, holding the spare
When the rumble of the Mercedes engine faded into the trees, the silence settled over me like a heavy blanket.
Did you register him on the electoral roll? I could hardly believe my ears. My mother had never even
Did you actually put him on the tenancy register? Sam’s jaw dropped. His mum had never even hinted
20December Im writing this on a cold, damp evening, the kind that makes the Thames fog roll in thick as wool.
13April Im writing this down because the house has become a battlefield and I need to sort my thoughts.
You cant keep living like that, Emma. Youre thirty, yet you act like an old woman, her mother said, settling
This is our flat together, Im the landlady too Holly said, Andrews girlfriend, as she entered the hallway.