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Arthur was standing in the middle of the kitchen, phone clenched in his hand, his face flushed with anger.

George Whitaker was fiftytwo, a man who still looked as if he were in the prime of his life.

Dont touch my tomatoes! Theyre all I have left, shouted the neighbour through the hedge. Mrs.

Mrs. Edith Whitcombe felt a twinge in her chest and called for a doctor. Not that she was truly unwell

Was hat sie nur mit meinem Sohn angestellt?! Theresa Gruber wirbelte in der Küche, während sie auf ihren

Dear Diary, How could you sink so low? Little one, are you ashamed? Your hands and feet are wholewhy

Christopher married at twenty-four. His wife, Emily, was twenty-two. She was the only child of a university

Liebes Tagebuch, heute war wieder einer dieser Tage, an denen das Haus wie ein Pulverfass wirkte.

The Illusion of Deception Working at the Royal Academy of Music, Eleanor had never cared for anything

Why are you home so early? came a startled voice from the bedroom. Who was calling? Its nearly midnight