At first appearance she was rather a delightful child, with her two golden-brown plaits tied neatly in bows of bright scarlet ribbon. Wearing a smart, sailor-style dress with a sash and spotless white ankle socks, encased in summer sandals, she was everyone's idea of a typical nine-year-old girl.

"Where's the cat, mum?" she demanded, tearing through the front door as she arrived home from school.

"I've taken her to the vet," her mother replied from the kitchen of the small terraced house. "You gave her a dog's life and now she'll get some peace."

On hearing these words, the girl ran straight through the house and out of the back door as quickly as she had come in through the front.

Frances Nelson was playing in the back lane. "Where you off to then?" she called to her friend, wondering why she was in such an almighty hurry. But she was already halfway up the lane by the time Frances had finished.

"I'm running away! I'm running away to Africa!" She shouted back with a determination in her voice which surprised even herself, seeing as the idea had only that minute occurred to her. Rounding the corner at the top of the lane she looked back to see if Frances had followed, but the other girl had disappeared.

"Huh! Bet she's gone and told my mother now, little tell-tale tit and I'll bet she'll tell everyone at school tomorrow when I'm not there," she muttered to herself defiantly. "Well, see if I care, because tomorrow I'll be in Africa."

Then, thinking deeply as she embarked on her intended journey, she decided what she would do once she arrived: