This is my story me, Katherine Fountain, Jon's wife, Olivia's mum. Grandparents are involved and Sabre.Granny Angel told me, "Your daughter talks to horses."Olivia was indignant, "Not any old horse, only Sabre."Why not me?The war was over but Jon, Germanophile, fluent in the language and an expert in the field had remained involved in the aftermath. Olivia was ten when he came back to us permanently, a man nursing a wounded soul after his experience of the death...

What does a sensible girl do when her husband plummets headfirst into the deepest, darkest pig slurry reservoir in the whole of England, possibly the world never to be seen again?What does she do about the family firm and his obsession – the manuscript that reeks of pig and warns that the world is about to end?How will she convince her staff that she is a good egg, on their side and not one to be afraid of and how should they celebrate the phenomenal success of the smelly m...

A financial Romeo and Juliet?Her mum warned her, Henry is lovely but he is not "respectable working class". His mum has horses. His dad has a helicopter. Henry has his own armadillo - so what is he doing at her school?Mel knows her mum is right. Henry is high class. He wears green wellies to prove it but that doesn't stop her falling in love with him and he swears he is in love with her.His "auntie" complicates matters. Now he is both high-class and rich. Does it ma...

The recoil of a mighty punt gun reveals a muddy corpse, a heaven sent (literally and metaphorically) opportunity for Detective Inspector Clout to fit the crime to a local mafia boss.This is a daveshortstory time to intrigue and entertain the commuter between stations. Timed with precision to ease the pain of your commute "The Case of the Punt Gunner's Bollards" is a short story set in the wild sea coast of eastern England.Prepare to be spell-bound. Your journey will evapora...

My mates are a crafty bunch. We meet for pints and pasties. They discuss pornography which doesn't interest me and I end up paying the bill.Thursday – my therapy session. "Why don't we try a spot of hypnotherapy?" suggests my therapist."You'll be wasting your time," I warn.But who am I to demur?There is not the slightest chance it will work but she is a lovely girl (Irish!) and I hate to disappoint.

Were they invited, or did they gate-crash the party to end all parties – The Party at the End of Time? Henry's mother feared they might arrive and arrive they did, fresh from the sea and rarin' to go, Thor the Viking and Nigel, the pirate and do they know how to party! Little old ladies clamour for their services before booze and burning and leaping over snapping crocodiles exhaust their energy. They thrust and parry with the best of them. They eat and drink and sing rude songs and they ar...

Timed with precision to ease the pain of your commute "the case of the punt gunner's bollards" is a short story set in the wild sea coast of eastern England. You will be spell-bound. Your journey will evaporate as the tide comes in. The punt gunner focuses on a flock of ducks. He fires his mighty cannon. The ducks and undergraduates in distant Cambridge panic - could this be World War lll? But what does the recoil expose? What has the gunner used to anchor his punt? What will his canny wif...

A daveshortstory written with commuters in mind; time for the commute. The Bomber was an ace helicopter pilot with a passion for dropping things. Frank was a chief executive officer with surplus executives. It was a beautiful marriage of necessities but it could not last. Can there ever be a good time to quarrel with your pilot - especially your helicopter pilot - especially one with a passion for dropping things?

Frank Prettyman, owner and CEO of Celtic Literary Enterprises, is drowned attempting to locate C.D. Moreclay, a pig-farmer and the author of "The Party at the End of Time", an unsolicited manuscript that both he and Frank are convinced is a masterpiece.Celtic has traditionally, and profitably, specialised in the publication of peninsula romantic novels and Cornish poetry in translation. "The Party" is a radical departure from this tradition and there is opposition from within....

A pistol shot shatters the early morning silence of the Great Hall. A lead ball flies to its target. A miss? The man lowering his pistol has never been known to miss.Decades later Bernard Mollison, master restorer, examines a hole in a family portrait – a hole where the heart is. Beside him stands Graham, a young Englishman. It is a long way from the veggie restaurant above Plymouth Arts Cinema where Graham met and fell in love with Mollison's son to the Mollison atelier in Prague w...

Just what my doctor might have ordered – an adventure of my very own. How else could I have interpreted that gesture, the hand drawn across the throat, menacing and made in my direction. They were out to get me. Nothing for it but a headlong dash across Europe, hounds snapping at my heels. No sooner were they shaken off than the assassins, ruthless after dark throat slitters, silent, stealthy Asiatics out to get me and no sooner evaded than overboard I go. Nights bobbing on the Mediterrane...

An important contribution to the literature of the West written in the vernacular. This is the authentic West, raw and dangerous