A young girl stepped out of the airport and looked round for a taxi. She hailed one and got inside.

"Summer Bay please," she requested.

The car sped off.

This wavy brown haired girl was Lottie. She had just run away from a foster home in England. Her father had just died and she did not like the home she had been sent to. So she simply ran away with no concerns in her head at all. She had had enough money to buy the ticket and still had plenty left over. Lottie was meaning to achieve one of her life long ambitions: to find her mother.

She knew absolutely nothing about her. Her mother had left her with her father just a few days after her birth. Lottie's father never remarried; he said the only person he could ever love was Lottie's mother. When he had met her, he had been in Australia touring with his band. All Lottie had of her was a photograph. It had been taken when she was eighteen; the same age she was when she had Lottie.

Lottie was quite a wild child. For instance she had come to Australia with practically nothing and was unconcered about what anyone back home in England would do when they found out she was missing. She also was not worried about where she would spend the night – that thought had not entered her head yet. She had just brought her guitar and a bigish rucksack with a few clothes and some other sentimental things. That was all.

"Here you are," the taxi driver said as he stopped the car.

"Thank you," Lottie said and paid him.

She waved as he drove off and then picked up her hard guitar case with one hand and slung her rucksack over her shoulder.

Ahead of her she spied the diner. She was in desperated need of something to drink and maybe someone there might know where she could find her mother. Lottie looked round at the beach contentedly. It seemed perfect. She would be able to go for a run every morning and on the soft sand and play her music. Maybe she could do some performing. Her dreams of becoming an artist seemed so close. But first she had to find her mum.

Inside the diner it was busy. She confindently went over to counter.

"Hi," she said. "Could I have a bottle of water please?"

"Sure love," said Irene. "Are you new round here?"

"Yeah I've just flown in. I'm Lottie from London, England," she held out her hand.

Irene shaked it feeling interested in this peculiar girl. "So Lottie from London, England, what are you doing over here?" she asked.

"I looking for my mum."

"Oh that sounds challenging."

"Well yeah, she lives here and she has the same name as me. I've never met her, but I know she's really beautiful."

Ruby was having dinner with Charlie that evening when someone knocked on the door.

"I'll get it," Ruby chirpped livelily and she ran to open it. Outside stood Lottie.

"Hi," Lottie said. "I'm looking for my mum."

"Yes, and?" questioned Ruby, wondering why the girl was informing her of that.

Lottie continued, evedently not noticing how strange Ruby thought she was. "I was told Charlie Buckton lived here."

"I'm Charlie Buckton," said Charlie coming to the door. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lottie Buckton-Taylor," Lottie smiled. "I'm your daughter." Lottie put her guitar case and rucksack on the floor and ran to hug Charlie.

Charlie hugged her back awkwardly and realised she was in trouble yet again. Ruby stared opened mouthed at her mother and this other girl, feeling totally befuddled as Charlie was too.

"Hi Mum," Lottie felt so happy.