Category: Sam Youd

A serious woman

Irina’s voice said: ‘I’ll be with you in a moment.’ There was an undeniable erotic effect, Hibson knew, in being alone with a woman in a place deserted by all the others who would usually...

An interesting pastime

Irina drove in silence as far as the main road. While waiting to turn right, she said: ‘Mademoiselle Limier is nice, isn’t she?’ ‘As far as I could judge.’ ‘And Andrew Tilling.’ It was a...

The ghosts of grief

‘Tragedy isn’t a twentieth-century invention,’ Hibson said. ‘Think of your ’Fifteen and ’Forty-Five. There must have been hundreds of women who lost a husband in one and a son in the next. You won’t leave...

A strip of memories

It was unreeling in his mind – an old cinematographic film, torn, stained, faded, but fresh and immediate for all that. For a moment he was afraid of it. But the recollection was private; it...

‘There is only me now’

‘And your sister Angela?’ ‘She got married during the war. They have three children.’ ‘I remember her as the most beautiful person I have ever known.’ ‘She has a daughter,’ Hibson said, ‘very like her....