I glanced to my left and stopped myself from double-taking like a Looney Tunes character. I had to be contented with instead staring down at the waiting room tabloid magazine in front of me. The girl on the cover. The… Continue Reading
Bird chatter floated in from the open window. She sat on the wooden chair and kicked at the table leg. He stood looking at her, holding two large mugs of steaming coffee, waiting for her to finish. “I think…” Her… Continue Reading
The cat is squalling again, the thin sound just human enough to trigger my maternal alarm. I’m halfway out of bed before I remember there’s no crying child in the next room; no one here but me and the mouser.… Continue Reading
We are so glad that Roy isn’t alive to see what’s happened to us because, oh my Lord, he would die. Yes, we’re comic-strippy — not exactly the Rokeby Venus — but we are of-our-time, same as old Mrs Rokeby.… Continue Reading
Amanda hasn’t slept all night and now, up at dawn, the thought comes loud and clear: It was a mistake not to go. “You really missed something,” Sarah had said over the phone yesterday. “Most of the old crowd showed… Continue Reading
We sit for ages on moulded plastic chairs, their cheery orange colour shouting: ‘Look on the bright side.’ Suddenly, she looks up and says: “What time is it?” Her voice contains a note of panic. I know why. Usually, we’d… Continue Reading
I probably won’t write back to you, but please send an email now and then to let me know how you’re doing. He read that sentence again and again, trying to make more of it than it was. Or lessen… Continue Reading
Stella hates Tuesdays. Her grandmother, Alice Eva, died on a Tuesday. Now Stella must hang a rope around Alice Eva’s bed and let strangers in to mutter and fret, “Lovely needlework this, Gill.” “Please stay this side of the rope,”… Continue Reading
I am exiled; shunned from the warren and left to scratch my own burrow into the hard clay and shale. It is my life. The lot has been cast. I had no say in the matter. For me it has… Continue Reading
“I’ve been at work five minutes and already have butter on my pants.” Rona swiped at the spot with a napkin. “Could be worse,” I said. “How?” “Hot bacon grease. On your arm.” “Looking on the bright side all the… Continue Reading