Brogan is beginning a six year sentence for the manslaughter of a prison officer.  He is unrepentant and is temporarily lodged in the derelict former execution wing of the prison where he is held. A battle of wills and wits ensues. He suspects that he is being subjected to an elaborate treatment programme designed to shock him into remorse and rehabilitation. But all is not as it seems.

‘E’ Wing

‘Killing Senior Officer Stewart was murder, plain and simple. And we both know, Brogan, that you should have been given Life.’

Brogan glared his defiance at the Governor and sensed the unease of the younger of the two prison officers who had brought him from his cell. He almost spat his reply. ‘The point is that they chose to call it Manslaughter and six years is what I got.’

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Peter Hosker uses a solitary hike through East Anglia to leave behind his troubled personal life.  He breaks his journey at a small hamlet and pitches his tent in an orchard.  Later an unlooked for incident in a village pub has repercussions that compel him to revise his plans.

Broken Journey

Avoiding he village of Croton, Peter Hosker crossed the main road and struck out on a rough compass bearing for Monks Brayleigh, some seven miles distant.  A deep, grassy lane ran in more or less the right direction and he soon found the rhythm of walking that best suited the weight of his pack and the emotional ache in his chest.  For two days he had trudged deeper into the heart of rural Suffolk, having previously taken a train to Manningtree and then walked across the bridges that spanned the River Stour which marked the county boundary.

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An arrogant Master of Foxhounds seduces the wife of a hunt servant and is made to pay a heavy price.  The story looks sharply at this clash of personalities set against a background of foxhunting and the English countryside.

Major Rattlesbury’s Day

It was dusk when Major Vernon Rattlesbury at last sat alone in his study, musing over the long day’s sport, while upstairs Cully prepared his bath.

Mud-spattered boots lay in a corner of the room and he rested his stockinged feet on the arm of a heavy oak chair.  From this position he could reach the fireplace with a poker and he stabbed the glowing logs into a respectable blaze.

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An embittered former Army officer sets out to kill his cousin who, he believes, was responsible for the failure of his pursuit of the woman he had loved.

Margaret

Charcoal clouds that had loomed all afternoon now broke near the horizon and steamed crimson across the setting sun.

The tall man patted the pocket of his tweed jacket into which he had earlier placed four shotgun cartridges.  Away to his left, beyond the oak-studded park, the Grange seemed to blaze as each window reflected the orange disk of the sun.  In the tower above the stable, a clock struck seven, the cracked bell giving its familiar dull, anvil ring.

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A woman is nervously awaiting her first appearance in court.  However, proceedings may not be all that they seem…

Nothing But the Truth

The courthouse corridor was bustling with worried looking people – defendants, witnesses, probation officers and police. Petra pushed her way to the notice board and peered hard at the list of cases in number two court. ‘Miss P. Cummins; charge:- Stealing two credit cards; contrary to the Theft Act.

Anxiety rose again in her throat and she jumped as a hand rested on her shoulder.

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A nurse tries to help her elderly father replace a precious record that he has broken. Her search leads to more than she could have imagined…

Overture

Maggie nodded her thanks to the girl behind the music counter and pushed her way through the bead curtain. The room was lined with shelves of old records, each section marked with the name of the artist; all long dead and half forgotten.  Not unlike the archives at the General Hospital, she mused.  On a bench at the far end of the room were two old wind-up gramophones, partly dismantled. She looked again at the note her father had written in his slow, spidery handwriting.

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An accountant on trial for fraud. His wife is desperate to raise money to pay for his defence.  She makes an offer to an old flame who is prepared to advance the money – but in return for what?

Sentenced to Love

Esme thrust her hands deep into her mackintosh pockets and watched the rain drip from the notice warning her not to bring tobacco or spirits into the prison.  The gate opened at last and the line of dispirited visitors shuffled through to the waiting room where one or two were already being searched by a bored prison officer.

She had a few moments to glance at herself in her compact mirror and ran a comb through her bright auburn hair.  This was her third trip to see Tom in as many days, but this time she had positive news.

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This concerns Cope, a former British Army officer who is persuaded to return to Libya, having been posted there in the 1960s.

He is responding to an appeal from a former colleague who seems to be in trouble but who is actually involved in a nefarious scheme to retrieve uncut diamonds.

The Sergeant Major Instructor

The old Bodega Bar had been turned into a coffee shop and the Italian road sign outside had long since been replaced by a suitable Arab name.  I looked round at the empty tables. It was ten to six and if Stokes was coming at all, he would be here soon.  Benghazi had changed all right but then so had I in twenty-four years.  I glanced back at my reflection in the mirror behind the counter; thinning hair over a thin face.  As Second Lieutenant Cope I had been tall and slender; now I was stooped and slender and I pulled back my shoulders and ran a finger round my collar.

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