Showing results by narrator "Sarah Durham" in All Categories

London, 1944. Clara Button is no ordinary librarian. While the world remains at war, in East London, Clara has created the country's only underground library, built over the railway tracks in the disused Bethnal Green tube station. Down here, a whole community thrives: with hundreds of bunk beds, a café and a theatre offering shelter from the bombs that fall above. Along with her glamorous best friend and assistant librarian, Ruby Munroe, Clara ensures the library is the beating heart of life underground.

I loved my husband, Doctor Drew Devlin, but he betrayed me. And now he’s dead. As I put the key in the lock and open the door to the luxurious new home I’ve purchased with Drew’s life insurance money, I’m certain the worst days are behind me. My secret is safe, and I can’t wait to enjoy my new wealth and freedom.

Your daughter isn't answering your calls. She's not replying to your messages. You rush to her house. She's slumped in the basement, dying and alone. You desperately call for help. She whispers a single word. Someone is keeping secrets. And it must be someone you know.

The students of Royal Hastings University's new Multimedia Art course have been trouble from day one. The year-long course is blighted by accusations of theft, students setting fire to one another's artwork, a rumoured extra-marital affair and a disastrous road trip. ut finally they are given their last assignment: to build an interactive art installation for a local manufacturer. With six students who have nothing in common except their clashing personal agendas, what could possibly go wrong? The answer is: murder.

"There’s someone I want you to meet," Belle says, as a man draws up to her side. He’s tall with dark hair and stubble on his square jaw. He’s not exactly smiling, but the corner of his mouth curls upwards as he slides his hand around my daughter’s waist.

Today we move into our new houses, right next door to each other. My ex-husband and me. He’s with someone else. So am I. We’re still the best of friends. We’re making sure we’re not like every other separating couple. We know we will make it work. We’ve even knocked down the fences between the houses, so the children can all run between both homes. But it seems not everyone likes this big, blended stepfamily. I try to ignore the scary note in the "new home" card and the red pen scrawled through my divorce paperwork.

I was the other woman. The mistress. Everyone blamed Doctor Drew Devlin’s death on me. And I’ve paid the price for loving the wrong man. Now, I have dark circles under my eyes because I can’t sleep at night. I lost everything–friends, family, my home and even my freedom. Drew’s devious wife Fern tore my whole world apart. And she thinks she’s got away with murder.

Ponden Hall is a centuries-old house on the Yorkshire moors, a magical place full of stories. It's also where Trudy Heaton grew up. And where she ran away from. Now, after the devastating loss of her husband, she is returning home with her young son, Will, who refuses to believe his father is dead. While Trudy tries to do her best for her son, she must also attempt to build bridges with her eccentric mother. And then there is the Hall itself: fallen into disrepair but generations of lives and loves still echo in its shadows, sometimes even reaching out to the present....

Moments before she dies, Nicola's grandmother Betty whispers to her that there are babies at the bottom of the garden. Nicola's mother claims she was talking nonsense. However, when Nicola's daughter finds a bone while playing in Betty's garden, it's clear that something sinister has taken place.

This is not a taste, nor an anti-taste, manual. This is an interrogation of the importance we place on seemingly objective ideas of taste in a culture that is saturated by imagery, and the dangerous impact this has on our identities, communities and politics. This book is dedicated to understanding the industries of taste. From the food we eat to the way we spend our free time, Olah exposes the shallow waters of 'good' and 'bad' taste and the rigid hierarchies that uphold this age-old dichotomy.

Friends for over 30 years, Kerry and Pat’s worlds came crashing down when their teenage sons were both diagnosed with life-threatening illnesses within weeks of each other.

Alison is a marriage mender. Her job is to help couples who fear they have reached the end of the road. So when her husband's ex, Lydia, arrives on the doorstep demanding to see her son, Alison thinks she can handle it. But what Alison doesn't realise is that Lydia is the one person who has the ability to destroy their happy family. And sometimes the cracks run too deep to ever be repaired.

I’m Lucy. Out-of-work actress, part-time princess impersonator, Dorito enthusiast. Oh, and I’ve lost my memory. I got knocked off a bicycle on my way to a children’s party, dressed as Elsa, and accidentally flashed my thong. Now, in my head, it’s 2009 and I’m 17 years old. Not nearly 30 and starting to wrinkle. By this stage of my life, I thought I’d be married, with kids and a mortgage. Instead, I’ve got a phone full of dick pics. As I make my way through my contacts list - and try to jog my memory - I can’t help asking: Am I allergic to love? Commitment? Men?

1864: Suddenly left as the head of the family, Kitty McKenzie must find her inner strength to keep her family together against the odds. Evicted from their resplendent home in the fashionable part of York after her parents' deaths, Kitty must fight the legacy of bankruptcy and homelessness to secure a home for her and her siblings. Through sheer willpower and determination, she grabs opportunities with both hands, from working on a clothes and rag stall in the market to creating a tea shop for the wealthy.

You trust them with your child. You shouldn’t. Each Monday after school, I look after my daughter Coralie and four other kids from her class. We go to the park when it’s sunny, snuggle on the sofa reading books when it rains. Tuesdays to Fridays, the other parents take them. It’s perfect–a circle of free childcare, of fun and friendship for our children. But this morning, we all received an anonymous note. And now I’m terrified.

Henry V's second invasion of France in 1417 launched a campaign that would put the crown of France on an English head. Only the miraculous appearance of a visionary peasant girl - Joan of Arc - would halt the English advance. Yet despite her victories, her influence was short-lived: Henry VI had his coronation in Paris six months after her death and his kingdom endured for another twenty years. When he came of age he was not the leader his father had been. It was the dauphin, whom Joan had crowned Charles VII, who would finally drive the English out of France.

When Grace’s husband passed away, there was no guidebook for the 27-year-old widow. Crippled with heartbreak, she was also clueless. Was she allowed to wear denim? Should she be shrouded in a black veil? What about T-shirts printed with Tom’s face? Three years later, things look a little different for Grace. She’s adopted two precious girls, and she’s learned some life lessons.

My husband, James, and I love living on Smith Street, with its neat houses and friendly family barbecues. Our daughter, Scarlett, can play outside with the other local kids–it’s somewhere nothing bad could ever happen. Or so I thought....

When I got pregnant, Will and I didn’t have a clue what we were signing up for. It turns out that there’s loads we weren’t warned about. But even if I feel like I’m waiting for my motherhood powers to come in the post, at least I’ve got Will. Our old life - festivals, sambuca shots, an actual sex life - might be a distant memory, but we can get through anything together, can’t we? At least that’s what I thought until, one day, Will walked out on us.... If I’m on my own (apart from Siri, obviously) can I do this whole parenting thing?

Her daughter died. Did she take mine? A year ago, my best friend Rachel’s daughter died. Ever since then I have held my own beautiful little girl tighter. I watch Luna shriek with laughter as she tips her toys all over the floor and I look anxiously at Rachel, sipping her tea. But Rachel reassures me that being near Luna helps fill the gaping hole of her grief, just a little. So when Luna is snatched from her bed in the middle of the night, it is Rachel who holds me tightly. She looks at the blue and white police tape crisscrossing my little girl’s bedroom and promises me they will find Luna.