Catherine Cookson Novels Novels & Stories

“This isn’t about impressing anyone. It’s my way of showing respect to the family I live with.” Kalina scoffed. “You’re seriously delusional. Serving breakfast like you’re some real wife, when soon enough—” “That’s enough, Kalina.” A sharp, heavy voice came from the doorway. Catherine Callister stepped in, regal as ever in her silk kimono. “Let her enjoy the role while she still can.” Althea bowed her head respectfully. “Good morning, Mother.” Catherine seated herself at the head of the table, picking up the cup of coffee already placed there. “Morning? I’m not so sure. Seeing you in the kitchen... has done something unpleasant to my appetite.”

I scrubbed down under the fall of hot water, emerging to a large terry robe and a giant closet full of dresses. Charlotte had already sniffed her way through it and deemed it safe for me to enter. Like there was some fabric monster in there ready to eat me. Though from the look of some of the gowns, it was a distinct possibility. I glanced at my sundress laid out over the back of a chair, now a wrinkled, dirty mess and sighed. At least the clothes in this closet weren't so avant-garde as to be unrecognizable as attire. I still puzzled over some of the pieces I'd come across in my Demonicon selection and felt sure I'd never find out what they were for. Or want to.

She scolded out loud, forcing Adam to laugh, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment. "I see someone is hungry. Wow, Catherine you're truly a foodie." His smile brightened. "Come let's get you something to eat. What would you like to have?" "Maybe some cookies?" She said shyly. She isn't necessarily hungry for food, just junk food like chocolate mixed milk cookies, some parfait and maybe a smoothie with a creamy cake. "Alright cookies it is." They went to the kitchen. "What are you doing?" Catherine asked when she saw him folding his shirt up and putting on an apron.

My five-year marriage with Alexander was like a couture gown, ripped to shreds. "I want Victoria to show your collection for the New York Fashion Week spring preview." My husband Alexander's voice cut through the sketch I was working on. I stopped drawing. I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?" "Victoria is new. She needs a platform. Your new spring collection is the perfect springboard for her." "You're a showstopper every year. What's the harm in giving her one shot?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather.

I glance at the cover of the book she slid across the counter: a Catherine Bybee novel. “Oh, wow, Mathilda. You’re a fan of Catherine Bybee?” I smile, genuinely impressed as I open the ledger. “It’s refreshing to see a teenager with such classic taste. Most girls your age are glued to their phones, but here you are, diving into a good romance.”

A woman stood there, tall and composed, dressed in a striking, deep red gown that seemed to catch and hold the light from the entrance chandeliers, her posture rigid in a way that read as deliberate rather than simply formal. Aurora couldn’t make out her features clearly from this distance, but something in the woman’s stillness, the way she watched their approaching car without moving, without smiling, without offering any of the polished social warmth Aurora had come to expect from wealthy hosts, sent a fresh chill through her chest. “Who is that?” Aurora asked quietly. Damien followed her gaze, his jaw tightening the moment he spotted the woman. “Catherine,” he said, his voice flat. “My s

I was always made to wear big clothes like a slave. I took my mind off it. In a few months' time, I'll be done but how will I leave him when I already started to develop feelings for him already? Twenty minutes before Joseph goes home. I went to the kitchen to see what was in the box. Catherine was actually a live server. It wasn't possible for me to cook with just a few minutes remaining. Joseph never actually liked to wait for his food. Catherine made some chicken pie. With some saucy rice and chicken. So I just reheated the food and dished it into Joseph's flask.

Catherine stood in the darkness. She waited until the house had completely fallen silent. Then she walked upstairs. Slowly. Carefully. She stopped outside Maria's room. Her hand rested on the doorknob. She turned it. The door opened without a sound. Moonlight spilled across the floor. The gown hung exactly where Maria had left it. The shoes were beneath the bed. The accessories sat neatly inside their box. Catherine stepped into the room. She looked at the gown for a long moment. Then she smiled.

CHAPTER TWENTY Catherine had retreated to the quiet comfort of the kitchen, her steps a gentle whisper in the dimly lit room. Clad in a cozy ensemble of emerald-green pajamas and a soft singlet, she had a simple mission in mind - to snatch a late-night snack that would be her nocturnal companion before she returned to the sanctuary of her room. Her aim was to escape the turbulent thoughts that had held her hostage, rendering her wide awake in the eerie stillness of the night.

Nothing has really changed about him, though. As I packed a few of his clothes, I could hear sounds of plates and metals clunking at each other. The sounds were coming from the kitchen and a sweet aroma followed as well. “Who could be in the kitchen or did they have a visitor?” I asked no one in particular and walked to the kitchen. When I got there I was surprised to see Catherine in the kitchen cooking. What was she doing here? I thought she was supposed to be in the mansion. I saw her in the mansion this morning, what is she doing back at home?