In a departure from my more usual style, this story, written almost 20yrs ago and never published, is a tale…
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I’ve always been good at recognising voices; faces less so; names hopeless, but voices, they’re my thing. I close my…
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I’m sitting on the circular bed, watching Mum as she applies her make-up in the huge mirror with its halo…
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“Have you seen the double blank anywhere?” “The double what?” “The double blank.” “What does it look like?” “Nothing, it’s…
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Hmm, guilty conscience, thought Hilary as she wrapped the six red carnations and gypsophila in the lime green wrapping paper…
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