 | Yesterday, I had the pleasure of recording a podcast, reading from and talking about my novel, Matilda Windsor Is Coming Home. Whilst preparing for the session, I hoped I wouldn’t embarrass myself by sharing a version of my character from a different book. Launching the prequel novella, Stolen Summers, in the same month as checking the edits to the currently nameless sequel, I could all too easily have got my various Matildas confused. |
If that weren’t enough, I’ve been playing with the idea of a sequel to the sequel. It has a title – The Guestlist – and several events and characters in search of a plot. One thought is to show Matilda at the end of her life dreaming about who she might have been if the universe has been kinder. I wonder if readers would enjoy meeting a version of Matilda where her mother doesn’t die prematurely or where she gets to keep her baby or she fulfils her dream of becoming a doctor or where she destroys the man who destroyed her.
| I doubt Charli had murder in mind when she set this week’s flash fiction challenge. Based on the beautiful Ojibwe greeting of “aanii”, the prompt is “I see the light in you.” I can only apologise for the darkness of my muse. |  |
Killers are people too
Matilda’s mother would have been shocked to learn she was sharing a room with a murderess. But Matilda’s mother never had the chance to discover that killers are people too. Although Doris seemed surly on the surface, Matilda sensed the loving spark within. When they’d shared their stories, they’d bring light to their dismal cell. They needn’t rush: they’d have months, years, to compare motives, weapons, plans. Once Matilda had taught Doris her letters, even her mother would struggle to tell them apart. They’d both broken the sixth commandment. Despite their incarceration, they’d both found freedom in their crime.
Matilda’s mother would have been shocked to learn she was sharing a room with a murderess. But Matilda’s mother never had the chance to discover that killers are people too. Although Doris seemed surly on the surface, Matilda sensed the loving spark within. When they’d shared their stories, they’d bring light to their dismal cell. They needn’t rush: they’d have months, years, to compare motives, weapons, plans. Once Matilda had taught Doris her letters, even her mother would struggle to tell them apart. They’d both broken the sixth commandment. Despite their incarceration, they’d both found freedom in their crime.
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