Chapter .1
Before i tell you about the postcard i had better tell you something about name is Elizabeth Throckmorton and i'll be eleven on my next birthday. Aunty Ellie [you'll meet her later] calls me her 'china doll' on account of my pale skin and straight black hair .I'm small for my age, so people at school think i'm feeble and fragile which i'm not .I don't talk much, so they think i'm unfriendly which i'm not.I just get on better with myself than anyone else, that's all.
Around me at home there's my there's father, who's a treats me like a boy .I think he always wanted me to be a boy, there's mother, who's always she's not out on the farm she's scurrying about the house with a broom or a pile of dirty never doesn't seem to have time to talk to me much these days, not since Little Jim was born; be we understand each other-always have like my big brother haven't got much in common, Will and he's not shooting or fishing, he's down in the cellar making horrible smells in the chemistry laboratory he's set up down there.I'd like to like him more-i know i ought to.
Then there's Little Jim was born about eight months always needs feeding or changing or picking up or moping up.I spend a lot of time looking after Little Jim, but he doesn't seem to appreciate loves to pull my hair out of it's roots or to tear my ears off whenever he never does that to has been living with us for as long as i can 's nearly eighty now.I know she means well, but she does go on a bit sometimes.
I suppose you could say that it was an ordinary sort of a morning in our house the day the postcard came.