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Tags: Relationships

You try your best to hide in the crowded room; it’s nearly impossible. You clocked her the minute she came through the door. You had hoped to see her, yet now she is here you find yourself making polite excuses to leave. ‘It’s not that late! You can’t leave yet! I’ve just bought you a p

I began to recognise Jayne, as I came to know her, in the vague way one does when a person hovers on the periphery. I’d notice her passing by the window of my bookshop, glancing in, averting her eyes and hurrying away. My bookshop had been open for two weeks with little in the way of sales when

Larissa, you are looking good. A fine specimen. Half the size, you have been told. Half the weight of your previous self, and you believe them, more or less. You feel able to obey orders and to love yourself a little bit more. And nobody knows. Your duty is well and truly done. The little ones â€

'News flash, Nick − we’re getting a new boss.’ Nick Ikaros looked up from his computer. Randi Lake leaned against the doorframe of his office, twisting a lock of dark hair around her delicate fingers. Tall and pale, she favoured the sixties look: oversized glasses and long, dark sweaters ov

There was giraffe snot on my hand and I must have been smiling because Mum was smiling back at me with my shaped grin. Not hers. Two years before that, I handed Mum a picture of a reindeer that I'd drawn and stood back to await approval. She said it was an excellent giraffe. I pretended that it w

It's March and still the snow is falling, thick sooty flakes of it. It settles on heaps of slush, growing out of the ground like mould. Treacherous grey puddles line the road and a passing lorry leaves Vasilisa drenched. The driver speeds away and Vasilisa gives him the finger. She knows that in his

They’ll be painting the park fence soon.  It could do with a new coat. They do it every now and then. There must be a list of fences they have to paint pinned up on a wall somewhere. They probably do nothing else day in day out but paint fences. Not exactly an interesting life, painting park fenc

'Mum! David’s kicked the ball into the tulips!’ Spring 1965. I am seven. And a bit of a snitch. Upstairs, a curtain is scraped back and Mum appears, wagging finger completely at odds with the twinkle in her eyes. David gets away with murder now. Which is very annoying to my seven-year-old