Showing results by author "Rosalie Parker" in All Categories

Penny's survey of Luscombe Manor, a honey-toned, seventeenth-century house with Victorian additions, was taking much longer than she'd anticipated. The owner, Percy Davington, didn't seem to mind, however, and, going into the warm kitchen to eat her packed lunches, she often found him waiting for her with a glass of good dry sherry.

All through August Abigail looked out for the ship, counting the masts on each vessel and reading their names before they reached the harbour.

We had no intention of going away that summer. Carrie had come to stay with me for a couple of weeks before we started at separate universities in the autumn.

Lucy was an awkward child, unlike Oliver and Sam who, when it was dry, played outside most of the time. She spent a great deal of the summer holiday visiting the library, reading in her room and researching online.

The pub is empty except for a couple - man and wife, judging by her wedding ring - sitting in silence by the fire. Her back is to me; the corners of his mouth turn down. I'm pretty sure they're the ones I'm looking for.

All through August Abigail looked out for the ship, counting the masts on each vessel and reading their names before they reached the harbour.

My friends raved about the view from my study. Tristram said, 'How lucky you are! I could look at it forever.' He often returned to the window to watch the changes that mark the progress of each day: the gradual greening of the grass, light moving over the fields, a larger flock of crows.

The Robinsons arrived late in the evening; he in black tie and she in a long cocktail dress of sheer red silk.

'Today, class,' said Miss Flanders, surveying the room full of Year Ten students seated around the somewhat battered tables, 'we will be looking at the circulatory system. Please open your books at page fifteen.' There were the scrapings and scufflings of chairs being pushed back and bags being opened, and the slap of textbooks hitting the table-tops.

Around three and a half thousand years ago, members of a small community of Bronze Age people spent several days away from their usual activities of farming, hunting, weaving and food processing in order to construct a burial mound.

'Tell me who it is' 'What difference will it make?' 'After six years I'm entitled to know who you're leaving me for.' 'Ok. It's someone I grew up with . . . from the village. It's Marcus Harding.'

It was a pity about the weather, but even in Yorkshire it couldn't rain all the time. Geraldine pushed her hair into her rainhood and studied the thin drizzle pittering into brimming puddles.

As soon as Simone set foot on the path through the heather, her spirits began to rise.

As soon as Simone set foot on the path through the heather, her spirits began to rise. The red grouse were nesting, but the cries of curlew and lapwing, and the piping of meadow pipits and the trilling of skylarks punctuated the perfect stillness.

The sand shimmered and sparkled under the midday sun. Millicent wriggled her toes in her sandals and looked up at Fabian as he addressed the party of tourists. Behind them, the calm blue sea rippled rhythmically over the beach.

Several days had passed since the incident and the villagers were still coming to terms with the fact that their young people would have to lie low for a while. Mike's two teenage daughters were caught up in it and he informed them that they would be grounded for the next month.

Dusk is some way off and I stand at the bar, waiting to be served. I've been here often on my way home from work - It's half-empty on early summer evenings, and the staff are efficient and not averse to passing the time in conversation.

Dusk is some way off and I stand at the bar, waiting to be served. I've been here often on my way home from work - It's half-empty on early summer evenings, and the staff are efficient and not averse to passing the time in conversation.

Although not compulsory, it was made clear to me that I was expected to attend the group. I could find no good excuse to avoid going to the first meeting.

Despite the argument they held hands until they reached the cinema, then she felt his fingers slip away. Next to her she saw not Callum but a man taking a photograph of the Art Deco building. Callum was nowhere to be seen.