Tag Archives: Sandra Patrick

#90 — The other woman

(This episode is told from Oliver’s point of view.) The phone buzzes in my hand, and I look down at the telephone number on the screen. “I have to take this one,” I say to her. Even to my own … Continue reading

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#89 – Catching Up

It’s snowing in Woodhaven. I sit at the antique oak desk in front of our dining room window and watch the flakes fall onto the deck. They linger for a few seconds before dissolving into the wooden boards, but it … Continue reading

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#88 — A silver trail

It’s a cozy enough scene, I suppose, if one were to look at it quickly through the living room window. Granny, Beloved Son, Doted-On Grandchildren and, OK, Tolerated Daughter-in-Law, all sitting in squashy chairs and sofas around a real (gas) … Continue reading

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#87 — Behind closed doors

I wish she wouldn’t do this. I wish my mother-in-law would be uniformly odd and infuriating all the time, so I can feel justified in complaining about her and accusing her of doing terrible things to my Sophie Conran wallpaper. … Continue reading

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#86 – Where the heart is

I twist around in the passenger seat of our rented car, which Oliver is driving at 25mph past some M1 roadworks, and look at the children. All three are fast asleep, their mouths slightly open. Jack is snoring. If only … Continue reading

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#74 – Quarterly accounts

One quarter of the way through the year. Time to check in with those New Year’s Resolutions. In the wee hours of January 1st while being kept awake by the neighbours’ illuminated, inflatable Christmas decorations, I promised myself I would … Continue reading

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#62 – Private investigations

It looks much easier in movies. Being a private detective, I mean. If this were a movie, for example. I’d have taken Oliver’s phone with us to the park and, while Jack played nicely on the slide, I’d have scrolled … Continue reading

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#61 – A voice in the dark

Something has woken me. A voice in the night. I lie in bed and stare around the semi-darkness, wondering if an old, lost spirit lingers in the whitewashed walls of this Georgian cottage. I have no idea what time it … Continue reading

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#53 – Preserved on tape

I stare at the dark computer screen, wondering if my overactive imagination is misleading me. Only one way to find out. An imagination doesn’t mislead twice. Not in the face of hard facts from a digital camera. I hit “Play” … Continue reading

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#32 -Santa Baby…hurry down that chimney, and don’t spare the reindeer

I have just written out my Christmas list. “Dear Father Christmas — Forget the weekend at Champneys. Forget the new iPhone. You can even forget Michael Buble’s Christmas album. Just get rid of her. Love, Libby. P.S.  If the dog … Continue reading

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