Beatrice recognizes the expression on his face, the anger. She knows how Ben hates to lose control.Next to her she senses Nia stiffen. ‘Are they having a row?’ Nia shouts over the music, concern etched across her pretty face. ‘I thought this might happen. Abi was hoping for a romantic weekend alo...
More often than not he was secreted away at a table in the corner of the Seagull, scribbling poetry into his notebook. With his ink-stained fingers and floppy hair, he was different from the beer-swilling Oldcliffe lads who thought they were cool just because they liked Oasis, yet decried anythin...