The haunted hotel

Notizia del: November 12th, 2014

By Rachel Roberts

I’m not sure I believe in ghosts, but I try to keeo an open mind, and when the travel magazine I write for asked me to do a tour of the Haunted Hotels of Britain, I agreed. I was curious, and prepared to be surprised.

I soon realized that the more a hotel and its staff publicized their ghosts, the less likely you were to have a scary experience. At a luxurious hotel in a Scottish castle, the staff had all been dressed in period costume. One man had even been wearing a headless horseman outfit, with very obvious eyeholes in the chest. It was too theatrical to be frightening.

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A summer day out

Notizia del: September 5th, 2014

By Rachel Roberts

It was hot in the car. The air-conditioning had chosen the hottest day of the year to break down. We couldn’t even open the windows - the signs at the entrance on the lion enclosure had been very clear: car windows must be kept shut and doors locked at all times.

I wished Rosie hadn’t chosen Camilla as her companion for the birthday trip to the safari park. Camilla was a spoilt, irritating child. She had already lost all her spending money, Which I had replaced, and chosen the most expensive thing on the lunchtime menu. Then she had dropped strawberry ice cream all over the car seat. I could smell it in the heat.

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Warning!

Notizia del: June 13th, 2014

By Rachel Roberts

Claire loved her Japanese car. It was small, black, economical and intelligent. Its on-board computer sent her messages when the car needed something; such as “REFUEL” or “MAINTENANCE CHECK”. There was no car key. Claire just had a little gadget that she kept in her pocket, and when she got close, she only had to press a button on the door handle and the car would open. Another button on the dashboard started the ignition. That made it a safe car. She could open it quickly at night without having to look throughout her bag.

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The reluctant gardener

Notizia del: March 27th, 2014

By Rachel Roberts

Nigel looked at the garden with disgust. It was more of a yard really. The owner had kept a dog here for years. It had urinated over every square inch, killing all but the most resilient weeds, and turning the earth an acidic yellow grey.
The place stank. Nigel sighed and looked down at his new white trainers. He was going to hate this job.
His father, the owner of a successfull business, had been furious when Nigel had failed his school exams. Dad was one of those self-made men who loved to talk about how he’d worked his way up from nothing. He was a high-achiever and he expected the same from his son.

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Hot chocolate

Notizia del: November 22nd, 2012

By Rachel Roberts

He was back! I knew I’d seen him around - turning a corner in the street, or a few rows behind me in the cinema. Once or twice I’d seen him in the street beneath my window. Another day I was sitting in the magazine section of the library and I looked up to see him, or someone very like him, disappearing behind a shelf. At first I told myself I was mistaken, or that my imagination was playing tricks. I didn’t want to even consider the possibility that he had come back. Whatever the reason it could only mean one thing: trouble.

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