Three days later, I was sitting in the office of Drew-Butler, the estate agents in Canterbury, studying the houses for sale on the computer. Father played golf with Peter Drew and, with his belief in hard work and discipline, I was spending a month of my holidays learning the art of the property ...
The lights coming towards them skimmed over the windscreen and Greta felt safe, content, satisfied. Well fucked, actually, she thought, covering her smile with her hand. It had been an eventful week, what with one thing and another, and she was dying to see what Richard now had in store for her. ...
I watched Samir running his fingertips through the fine red dusting on the side rail. He was gazing out at the coastline, unchanging, veiled in mist. He turned, smiling. ‘Sahara,’ he said in that tone people have when they speak of home. I touched the St Christopher at my throat. The journey was ...
Tom was at a meeting to discuss the refugee situation in Syria, and was going to be late. He had been following the developments and left the papers folded back on articles he wanted me to read. It was all so depressing. War is like the seasons, sunrise and sunset, an endlessly repeating cycle. &...
It's just so...sexy. You feel…reckless. You feel, like, this is where I belong. You read in self help books you are what you think you are, what you believe yourself to be. And it's true. I hadn't yet left but I felt like I'd arrived. It's the little things you notice. Eve...