Travelling Light
Leonie Berger got carefully out of bed and turned over the pillow so that her husband, who was pretending to be asleep on the other side of the narrow, lumpy mattress, would not notice the damp patch made by her tears. Then she washed and dressed very attentively, putting on high-heeled court shoes, silk stockings, a black skirt and crisply ironed
... See moreEva Ibbotson • The Morning Gift
Astrid felt, oddly, as if she’d known Nina for years. Perhaps this had something to do with Nina’s response to the windmill; she’d been almost shaken in its presence, and Astrid had recognised this, because it had been her own reaction when she took the keys over forty years ago, and let herself into the tower for the first time. Standing on the th
... See moreLucy Atkins • Windmill Hill
A little over a month before, they’d driven up to Orvieto, a city built on a huge rock overlooking the Paglia Valley. They’d sat on the bonnet of the jeep and drunk red wine out of their canteens as bombers roared overhead towards Mount Cetona, the boundary of Tuscany. They’d stumbled into the cathedral, into the San Brizio chapel, where Luca Signo
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