Given this is a short story, I found the characters to be well drawn and I really got into the story, albeit that it took be about half an hour to read! Ben's daughter is adorable and his parents are, of course, a complete nightmare, and as for the ex-wife: arggggh!! I am sure a lot of people w...
‘I can’t believe you did that, Mum.’ ‘It wasn’t like that,’ I protest, catching my breath as I march home from the restaurant. ‘Yeah, it was. It was totally wrong. You’ve violated his human rights.’ I splutter ineffectually, furious at Tom for mentioning the smoking bum when I’d far rather have d...
Chapter ThirtyThursday morning, and I’m still in the dog house. At least, I assume I am. My plan was to get up super-early and make Will a lavish cooked breakfast – full English with black pudding, his favourite – but he was off on his bike before I’d even got the frying pan out.I can’t get over ...
‘Remember that athletics club we were talking about?’ she asks her daughter. ‘Well, Laura’s going to help to raise funds for it. Make some cookies or something.’ ‘Actually,’ I say, ‘I was thinking I’d rather be involved in the more, um . . . active side. I’ve just entered that 10k you were talkin...
‘I manage to run things when you’re not there,’ he barks, beckoning her into the hallway. Sorry, he mouths with a broad shouldered shrug, turning to march into the kitchen and motioning for Kerry to follow as he continues his conversation. He jabs at a chair, indicating that she should sit. She d...
Sam and I have brought the kids to the cinema. He’s left messages the past few days reminding me that the latest child-pleasing blockbuster is due to finish, and that seeing it is essential to Harvey and Jake’s survival. ‘Have you been avoiding me?’ Sam whispers in the flickering darkness. The tr...
It’s a bustling Friday evening in Glasgow, and most people are more interested in being out, and getting to where they want to be, than in a skinny teenager with choppy red hair strumming a Bob Dylan song. But Johnny and Cal have stopped and are playing the ‘how much to throw in the guitar case?’...
Since coming home, she’d been sharply conscious of the city-ness of everything: her vast, faceless school with its gloomy gray corridors, bordered on all sides by uneven concrete—yet more gray—and teachers who, for the most part, nearly looked as desperate as she for the bell to ring.A group of b...