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A POOL OF DARK IN HIS HANDS
The shadows he’d seen did not darken the days that he'd helped with our wellies, lifted us up over dykes and stiles and carried doll's...


ALWAYS LOVED, DESPERATELY MISSED
Do bones feel a tickle as a finger traces letters – nestled, mossy letters – neatly indented in the cold grave stone? Is there a shiver...

FOR ZELDA
Esmé comes down the stairs with angry tears streaking unwanted understanding down her Year 5 face. This is death like she’s never known...

IRIS IS NOT A CROSS COUNTRY RUNNER
But she’s fierce and fast and tenacious and so she’s selected. Number 842 is attached to the front of her red Medway vest with borrowed...
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