Annie’s body clock is ticking and she still wants to have children of her own. Advertising in the paper to find a lifelong partner is all very well, but these things take time and time is the one thing she doesn’t have. Maybe she could skip the lifelong part, but that still leaves her with advertising…

A Test of Friendship

“Do you have a better suggestion?” Annie poured another glass of chardonnay and sat back on the settee. Her lustrous brown bob framed her grinning face. She angled the fluffy white teddy to wave his paw at her friend.

“You’re bonkers. You could adopt.” Karen shook her head in disbelief. “And telling me that Bear needs a pair of little arms to hold him is no justification. You could have left him in the store.”

“It’s all right for you. You have men queuing up, with your blonde hair and blue eyes. I’ve tried internet dating and where did that get me? And you know I can’t walk past a Mothercare store without going in.” Annie threw the newspaper down on the table. The page was folded so that the advert was uppermost.

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A change is as good as a rest. When the summer holidays come round if you can’t afford a swanky holiday maybe there’s another way to bring about change. Lizzie thinks she’s found the perfect solution to amuse her while her friends are off in the sun.

Changing Places

“I haven’t even asked you yet what you’re doing for the ‘ols?” Lizzie grinned at her friend as the conveyor belt between them slowed to a stop.

“I’m off to Lanzarote tonight, just self-catering, mind,” shouted Dora, pushing her overall into her bag. “What about you?”

“Let’s just say I’m ‘oping to pick up a good last minute deal,” Lizzie replied, removing her hairnet from her greying brown hair. She’d been saving as hard as she could, but there was very little she could do with the sort of money she’d put by…

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Working in a customer facing role when you don’t suffer fools gladly was never going to be a success for Jenny, but how else could she earn enough money to visit her boyfriend in Paris? This job was going to be different, until a lady wants to place an advert for her lost dog, Trixie!

Paris

“If you’re away from your desk or can’t take a call, don’t forget to sign out of your phone. And what are the circumstances in which you can be away from your desk?”

Jenny hated these little pep talks from Mr Clarke every week at the sales meeting.

“Death and authorised holiday.” Craig rolled his eyes.

“That’s right Craig. Now team it’s almost 8 o’clock. Remember your December targets and there’s a weekend in Paris for the one who sells the most. Now, go team.”

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Isabella is not like other princesses, she has a successful career, but seems to have missed out on the happy ever after. After a long absence, her fairy godmother arrives on the scene, but can she be trusted to get things right?

Princess Isabella and the Tale of the Three Wishes

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess. She had buck teeth and thick-lensed glasses, but she was a beautiful princess none the less. Isabella had tried to find her prince charming, but it hadn’t gone well, so she booked herself on a city break to Nice.

Normally, fairy godmothers aren’t the sort of people you see much of. They appear occasionally for birthdays and Christmases. Generally they’re conspicuous by their absence. You can imagine Isabella’s surprise as she sat enjoying a glass of wine in the sunshine, when who should arrive, but her fairy godmother, a tall, elegant woman, who oozed brisk efficiency.

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Iris has been faithful to the memory of ‘her Jim’ for many years. She would do nothing to disrespect that memory, even if that meant forgoing the chance of happiness in her later years. But do the two things really have to be exclusive?

Shadow of the Past

His was the fourth name down as I looked at the page headed ‘6th September’ in the Book of Remembrance at the Crematorium. I knew the entry by heart, but read the words aloud, as though performing some sort of ritual. In a way, I suppose I was. ‘James McCreedy my darling husband. Love as always Iris.’ I still felt numb as I looked at the page and there was always that same cool air and almost musty smell, tinged with the scent of flowers. The lighting wasn’t bright in the Remembrance Room, adding to the impression of faded reverence.

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The Appearance of Truth charts one woman’s search for identity. Following the death of both her parents, Lisa Forster has little idea of her family history, but it is only at the age of thirty, when she begins to research her family tree as part of a bet with her friend Pete Laundon, that she discovers that her birth certificate is really that of a baby who died at the age of four months old. She is faced with the questions of: Who is she? Why was she never told? And who was the baby?

As she begins to search for information with Pete’s help, Lisa faces one dead end after another. Do her answers lie in finding Uncle Laurence, the uncle that was never mentioned by her father? Or is the truth contained in the hunch of Matt Kirby, photographer with the Southingham Express?

Lisa’s story is intertwined with the moving tale of her parents and the baby whose birth certificate she has.

An archaeological dig in a quiet Yorkshire village turns up some unexpected treasure from the Crusades. However, Annabelle Thomas, the presenter of TV’s ‘Digging up History’ has other ideas than to let, producer and ex-lover, Johnny Bryant take the credit.

The Dig

“Cameras, action!”

“Welcome to Digging up History. I’m Annabelle Thomas and this week we are in North Yorkshire at a site that has been at the heart of much speculation and rumour. Originally thought to be the site of a great battle, we’ve come to ask the question ‘Whose remains are these?’”

“Cut. That was great Annabelle. From there we’ll swing round to the area that’s already been excavated and talk about the age of the bones you’ve found.”

Johnny Bryant, the director, showed no signs of his previous relationship with Annabelle. Twelve years cast aside as though it was just another pile of sand to be brushed off some ancient relic.

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In his final days a grandfather teaches his beloved grandson to see the world with his heart and soul and not just his eyes, as his grandson learns that those we love will always be with us.

The Embers of the Day

“Stop fussing Freda. Let the boy come in.” Papa lay back against the pillows wheezing, his skin looked paper thin, his frail hand reaching across the bedspread, quilted by his wife all those years ago. He remembered its many blue and white pieces and the hours it took her to stitch it, in the early years of their marriage. The breeze from the open window was a welcome sensation across his face.

“But you heard what the doctor said Papa, you need to rest.” Freda tidied the covers of her father’s bed and took his hand. It was hard to see her father like this; he had been such a strong support for her over the last few years. Even since the old man’s eyesight had failed, he hadn’t stopped taking care of the family.

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Matthew Wilbright wants a divorce from his childless marriage to Laura. Given it is because he still wants the chance to have a family heir, Laura might be forgiven for being a little resentful. Her response is to devise the ideal solution to her problems. But perfect plans don’t always go quite as intended!

The Perfect Crime

“Laura, thanks for looking after my little darlings while I was away.”

“Don’t mention it, the pleasure was all mine.” I smiled down the phone. If only Rebecca knew what I’d done.

“I was quite worried about you before I went. You seemed very low. Is there anything I can do?”

“I’m fine now. Really I am and believe me when I say I appreciate everything you’ve already done.” Every little thing! I grinned.

“Well if you’re sure. I’ll see you next week.”

“Yes, bye.” I put the phone down and nodded to myself, yes I was fine.

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The Queen feels that she has been wholly misrepresented in her dealings with Snow White. It’s always hard for a step-mother to get a fair hearing and when the child is a real ‘daddy’s girl’ it’s going to be harder than normal. Tom, the reporter who has the chance of interviewing the Queen, to put her side of the story, is almost taken in – Almost!

The Queen Bites Back

“It’s all very well that we step mothers get a bad name,” said Ariadne, fluttering her eyelashes and swishing her raven black hair into place. “A doe-eyed child cries foul and their dear daddy believes them. Well things are never as simple as they seem and Snow White wasn’t the perfect little miss that she’s made out to be. Oh, she could act the part when it came to visitors, but living with her was an altogether different matter.” Her eyelids descended slowly as a look of sadness fluttered across her face.

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When Elsie moves home the most important thing to sort out is the wall of shoes. The shoes are never more essential than when one of her new neighbours dubs her a batty old woman and takes exception to her range of friends. Her other neighbour is wise enough to ask Elsie what it all means and is humbled by the reply.

The Wall of Shoes

“Don’t stand on ceremony, come through. I was just putting the kettle on. If I can find it amongst this lot.” Elsie laughed as she led Anne and Sylvia through to the kitchen.

“We just wanted to welcome you to Highfield Close. It’s a very nice area. We do hope you’ll fit in.” Anne looked sternly at Sylvia who held out the flowers to their new neighbour.

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After George died, Gladys stopped drinking tea. She didn’t want to make it if her husband wasn’t going to drink it. So why is she waiting for the kettle to boil?

A Nice Cup of Tea

Gladys waited for the kettle to boil and wished she were making tea for George. How many times had she boiled a kettle for him? Over sixty years ago she’d started doing it. At just seventeen, she’d been so noticeable and pretty, with long red hair, green eyes and freckles. She saw her reflection, distorted in the kettle’s round metal surface, distorted too by age. Her hair was all anonymous neat grey curls now, her freckles hidden amongst the age spots and wrinkles, her once bright eyes faded and cloudy. No one noticed her now.

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Elle Meadows was used to the needs of the farm coming before anything she might want for herself so didn’t get her hopes up when a florist’s van pulled into their driveway. Lack of flowers she could cope with, but did the driver really need to call her ‘mate’?

A Piece of Pink Ribbon

Elle Meadows limped back towards the warmth of the farmhouse, clutching the piece of pink ribbon and trying not to cry. Was she being unreasonably selfish to hope for one small touch of luxury or comfort in her life? Normally she didn’t mind the hard work, the dirt or the early mornings; she liked working on the farm. The sight of their cows grazing happily, a new litter of piglets being brought into the world or the hens roosting safely for the night always made her smile. She loved the scent of freshly made hay, fresh warm milk and the wood smoke from the range in the kitchen. Today though she felt that if she were to see one more muddy animal or smell the sweaty aroma from its damp back then she’d be ready to head for the city and apply for an office job.

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Julia Colgan had been a loser from thirty-seven seconds after her birthday. That didn’t mean she intended to stay that way forever.

A Real Winner

Julia Colgan had always been a loser. It started thirty-seven seconds before her birth; Julia had the newspaper cuttings to prove it. ‘Local girl loses out,’ it said. Her mum had been expected to deliver the first baby at the newly opened maternity hospital. Local businesses had promised all kinds of birthday gifts for the first child; photographs by the portrait photographer, clothes, shoes and nappies from children’s shops; bottles, sterilising fluid and rusks.

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Luke’s a wannabe spy and unwilling schoolboy. He knows Mrs Burton, a neighbour, was a spy. He suspected Old Ted Holmes was too. What he hadn’t considered was that while he was keeping an eye on them, they were conducting a new mission of their own.

A Spy in our Midst

I can’t remember who first told me Mrs Burton was a spy. I don’t suppose anyone came right out and said it; I wouldn’t have believed them if they had. She didn’t look like a spy, but then you wouldn’t be much of a spy if you did, would you? I didn’t look like one either, but at fourteen I knew that’s what I was destined for. I’d never missed an episode of Spooks and I’d watched every 007 dvd. I’d even read some of the books.

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Andy knows life isn’t a rehersal. He wishes the same wasn’t true of his romances with Jemima.

Ad Lib

Jemima ran her manicured hand through her fine, blonde hair and asked, “Will you marry me?”

Andy almost dropped his script. He blinked and wondered if he’d heard her correctly.

She moved along the sofa so she sat with her thigh touching his, took his hand in hers, looked into his eyes and whispered the words again, “Will you marry me?”

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Nine year old Adam, police deputy in training, has a very important task. As well as catching the burglar and keeping his parents’ secret he must save the magic of Christmas.

Adam’s First Case

Adam adjusted the focus of his binoculars. He’d promised community police officer PC Marks that he would carry out observations, because of the recent burglaries in the area. Adam is an unofficial deputy and in training for when he’s old enough to join the force. It was already dark outside, and Adam had been on stake-out since tea time. He could see people in the garden, but they weren’t burglars. It was his mum and dad. He went to see what they were doing.

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Serena is either too young or too old for absolutely everything she wants to do and it just isn’t fair!

Age Related Problems

“Don’t be so childish, Serena,” Mum snapped.

I sulked. Yeah, I know sulking is childish too, but life wasn’t fair and other than screaming and shouting, I couldn’t think of anything else to do. Yesterday, I’d asked Mum if it was OK for me to stay out late on Friday night. I thought it was bound to be OK because I didn’t have school the next day and I’d be going to a public place with a responsible adult. Any reasonable person would think it’s OK for a thirteen year old girl to go to the pictures under such circumstances.

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Amy and I wanted to find Cara a nice man so she’d be as happy as us.

He had to be someone pretty special though.

All Talk

“We need to find Cara a nice man,” Amy whispered at the dress fitting.

“We’ve been trying for years, what makes you think we can do it now?” I asked.

“She’s seen how happy we both are and I think she’s ready to settle down.”

Cara swished back the curtain. “What do you think, Lucy?”

“You look beautiful, but I knew you would.,” I told her. It was true, she’d been a beautiful bridesmaid at Amy’s wedding and would do the same for me next month. We’d made a pact to be bridesmaids at each other’s weddings. Technically Amy will be my matron of honour, but you don’t think of things like that when you’re nine.

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Del had a look on his face that suggested he had good news and wanted to share it. He wasn’t the only one.

Big Loser

I almost walked into a lamp post when I realised who it was that Del reminded me of. You’d be surprised too if you were a twenty something girl who’d just recognised yourself in her retired male neighbour who sported the craziest moustache outside of Cuba. I don’t mean we look alike; I’m as pale as he is dark. He’s a good foot taller and several stones lighter. Yeah, you’ve got it – he’s fit and I’m fat.

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Molly decided she and Ted should spend more time together. It seemed like a good idea until she realised that meant either attending the bowls club or, far far worse, filling their time with her interests.

Bowled Over

Molly had known she wouldn’t enjoy the bowls club’s annual BBQ and trophy presentation evening and therefore was proved right. Several people approached her and Ted, wanting to chat. Molly didn’t encourage them. She knew the moment they got into conversation they’d start talking about bowls and she’d be excluded. She didn’t eat any of the profiteroles decorated with red and blue icing spots to represent bowls.

“It’s silly, why’s everything got to be about bowls?” she asked Ted.

“Because it’s a bowls club, lass, anyway it’s just a bit of fun, they still taste the same.”

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Louise felt like a quarter pounder on the grill as the people around her licked their lips and discussed side dishes. She should never have let Cindy talk her into coming. Come to think of it, what on earth was Cindy doing as her friend slowly roasted?

Cannibal’s Hymn

Louise attempted to ignore the hungry people who surrounded her. She tried not to watch them rub their hands and lick their lips. They muttered horribly. She was too upset to listen to the words and tried to be grateful that at least the noise blocked out the sounds of their rumbling stomachs. It sounded as though they were praying or, more terribly, saying grace.

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Tasha didn’t seem to see Craig’s wheelchair or his inability to climb mountains. He didn’t mind that.   He did wish though that she’d understand he didn’t deserve her love. How could he prove the truth of something he didn’t want to face up to himself?

Climbing Mountains

Tasha leant over Craig’s shoulder and looked at the magazine he was reading.

“Thinking of going mountaineering?” she asked.

Craig flinched. He’d been so interested in the article he hadn’t noticed her arrival. Looking down at the photograph of Kilimanjaro, rising icy and majestic from the African plains, Craig recalled reading about the difficulties faced during a climb and the exhilaration experienced at the summit.

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It wasn’t easy for Terry to communicate with his new wife. That was partly due to the fact he was on deployment with the Royal Navy and partly because she was so busy with her own life and her ‘really nice’ new friend David.

Coming Home

He’d phoned her on Tuesday, from the ship. He’d queued for over an hour waiting his turn. The communication system had been down for a fortnight and everyone was anxious to contact their loved ones. Twenty minutes each they were allowed, whenever the system was working. Terry had listened to the men before him, he couldn’t avoid it. They were assuring wives and mothers they were well and missing their family. Everyone was eager to prepare for their homecoming, just a few weeks away.

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Mary was a reasonably competent cook unless she tried to recreate one of her mother-in-law’s wonderful recipes. Her sister’s-in-law all seemed to have the same problem. Surely it couldn’t be entirely coincidence?

Cooking the Books

Mary scraped the gooey pink mess into the dog’s bowl. Luckily Splash would eat anything and although it seemed a waste to give all that exotic seafood to a spaniel, it was better than throwing it away. Mary made herself a cup of tea and then re-read the recipe she’d copied into her notebook. No; she just couldn’t see where she’d gone wrong.

She sighed. It had been a mistake to try and impress her husband with her culinary skills; it never worked. Besides he loved her for herself, not her abilities in the kitchen. She wouldn’t have bothered, except that woman, Mike’s mother, had made it all sound so easy.

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