The blue angels were beautiful. They smiled down from their high lamp-posts at Georgie in her pink fur bobble hat. She smiled back and waved…
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The florist has it ready. Six pale roses nestle in snowy baby's breath and soft green ferns. I choose a card with butterflies. I must write a message that she will not read. Words come hard, now as before:
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Stacey McRoberts had come up from nowhere. She said it herself, didn’t try to hide her background the way some people do. Instead, she made it work for her…
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Cars are very different from how they used to be. Eddie can remember a time when you could buy a car manual and work out what everything was, as well as how it all fitted together. His first car, which was a bit of a wreck right enough, was an open book, or rather an open bonnet….
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Jackie sat at the window of the 21 bus, steadying herself slightly as it lurched round the corner into Richmond Road. Hamlet looked up worriedly and stretched his tongue to lick her face, the bow in his topknot seeming to quiver with concern for her wellbeing…
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The problem was always the customers. Arnie couldn’t stand them, the way they milled in front of his stall, jostling each other to get a better look at a piece or a price…
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Her voice, confident of its content, carried easily to us. Her accent was of the south – probably London. She sat firmly planted at the scruffy café table. The breeze from the sea lightly ruffled her flowered top and cropped grey hair…
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