Frederique has started talking in eerily vivid detail about her past life.
Her mum and dad were dead and she lived with her Grandpa. Her Grandpa taught her to read maps and follow the trainlines and to tell the time by the stars. He also taught her to point with her fingers before she lifted binoculars to her eyes. Tonight she got up and came into the lounge room to tell me she missed her old Mummy and Daddy from before I was born, when I was living in Africa. Her old Mummy and Daddy died, and her Grandpa came and got her. He gave her a flute to play and the prettiest ribbon and a skipping rope but it broke. She said the gold looked like brown stones.
It's not that I believe her exactly, it's just that she's so convincing. She's been telling me this story over the period of about a month now and it builds such a clear picture that I want to write a novel out of it.
Speaking of novels I sent a little one off to Penguin today. It's called Bluebird and it's another Chomp. Hopefully they take it, though it is a little odd. I'll find out in a month or two I guess.