Alistair Whitcombe had always been the pride of his well-to-do family in the Cotswolds. From his days
**Diary Entry 15th March** *”I know theyre mine,”* he muttered, not lifting his eyes. *”
The last rays of evening light seeped through heavy curtains, casting weary stripes across the expensive
I know theyre my kids, he muttered, not looking up. But I cant explain it. Theres just no connection.
“If you dont like my mother, then leave!” snapped the husband, never expecting his wife to
In a quiet village in the rolling countryside of Devon, among green fields and hedgerows, lived Thomas
**Diary Entry 15th March** *”I know theyre mine,”* he muttered, not lifting his eyes. *”
**How Grandma Ethel Found Her Daughter** A quiet evening settled over the village as Ethel Wilson, known