Miss Warner looked at the broken door of the old stone farmhouse. It hung open in the inviting way that she had been expecting. She tilted her parasol against the glare of the sun and peered into the shadowed room. She sniffed the scent of water. It was flowing somewhere nearby, and a fresh smell of spearmint and rushes drifted past her into the sunlight. Miss Warner pushed the door and it opened at a slump, its upper hinge giving way. She stepped into the kitchen and looked around. It was exceedingly tidy, but dusty. She listened. ‘I’m here,’ she … Continue reading The Well House, by Kate Macdonald