Maisie Mosco

Sarah stood by the window waiting for Abraham to arrive home from work. On weekdays, there was no fire in the parlour grate to warm the chili air and she had slipped her faded shawl around her shoulders. She preferred its comforting folds to the smart cardigans her children bought for her. And in a...

Chapter One It began as a joke. They were dressing for a dinner date, he on his side of the bed, she on hers, a tall, balding man who was losing the í battle with middle-age spread, and a petite woman with a few threads of silver in her dark hair. Before taking her bath, she had...