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The Map of Night

Pantera Presserschienen am01.07.2022
'Dark Matter pulls light waves into curves, and conceals the true location of everything. It distorts reality.' Astronomer Lucy Rutherford is celebrating the refurbishment of the 100-year-old telescope in the Yarra Valley town of Bowness, Victoria. Her husband, Justin, is running for parliament, on a platform of responsibility and progress. But Lucy isn't interested in being a politician's wife. And after twenty years, admittedly some good ones, she plans to leave Justin. Once he's won the election. Lucy's biggest concern is how her eleven-year-old daughter, Gabby, will take the news. Or does Gabby already know? She has a habit of listening in on conversations she shouldn't. A week before polling day Lucy takes the family dog for a walk and doesn't return. Justin is convinced Lucy has left him and is angry that she would abandon him so close to the election. Yet Gabby is certain her mother is missing and in trouble. Why isn't her father looking? As the days go by, tensions rise between Gabby and her father. Desperate to contact her mother, Gabby takes matters into her own hands. On the day of the election Bowness is faced with a decision, and so is each member of the Rutherford family.

Kimberley Starr is an Australian novelist and teacher. Her novels have been shortlisted for multiple literary awards, including the Queensland Premier's Literary Award and the Text Publishing YA Prize. Her most recent novel Torched was shortlisted for The Davitt Awards. She lives with her sons and their labrador in semi-rural Victoria and is currently completing a PhD in Creative Writing.mehr

Produkt

Klappentext'Dark Matter pulls light waves into curves, and conceals the true location of everything. It distorts reality.' Astronomer Lucy Rutherford is celebrating the refurbishment of the 100-year-old telescope in the Yarra Valley town of Bowness, Victoria. Her husband, Justin, is running for parliament, on a platform of responsibility and progress. But Lucy isn't interested in being a politician's wife. And after twenty years, admittedly some good ones, she plans to leave Justin. Once he's won the election. Lucy's biggest concern is how her eleven-year-old daughter, Gabby, will take the news. Or does Gabby already know? She has a habit of listening in on conversations she shouldn't. A week before polling day Lucy takes the family dog for a walk and doesn't return. Justin is convinced Lucy has left him and is angry that she would abandon him so close to the election. Yet Gabby is certain her mother is missing and in trouble. Why isn't her father looking? As the days go by, tensions rise between Gabby and her father. Desperate to contact her mother, Gabby takes matters into her own hands. On the day of the election Bowness is faced with a decision, and so is each member of the Rutherford family.

Kimberley Starr is an Australian novelist and teacher. Her novels have been shortlisted for multiple literary awards, including the Queensland Premier's Literary Award and the Text Publishing YA Prize. Her most recent novel Torched was shortlisted for The Davitt Awards. She lives with her sons and their labrador in semi-rural Victoria and is currently completing a PhD in Creative Writing.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9780648748830
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Erscheinungsjahr2022
Erscheinungsdatum01.07.2022
Seiten368 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Dateigrösse2273
Artikel-Nr.11934262
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe

ONE
FRIDAY
LUCY

The Bowness Observatory is home to the first telescope I ever looked through, Lucy might begin, tonight. Aware of her reputation for saying the wrong thing, she had laboured over her speech all afternoon. I m excited to share the unveiling of its refurbishment with my daughter, who represents the future of this town and of science.

Five years ago, Justin had inherited the family house and the three of them, along with Justin s ophthalmology practice, had all moved to Bowness. Since then, Gabby had metamorphosed into a lanky eleven-year-old. And now Lucy and Justin agreed she could come with them to the opening, even though Gabby wasn t meant to stay up late. Their lives were about to change again. For Gabby, seeing the result of Lucy s long-term project would be a significant, happy memory.

Lucy looked up from her computer. Where was Gabby? Hours had passed since Lucy, still working from home when she could, walked down the street to collect her from school.

Knowing Gabby-the kitchen. And sure enough, auburn head bent over the notebook she called her Observations Journal, beside Lucy s iPad on the marble bench, there she was. Their elderly Labrador, Kepler, always as close to her as he could possibly get, had arranged himself into a black hole beneath her stool.

Gabby took one bite from her pizza before returning to writing. Her tongue was visible, pink at the side of her mouth; she was concentrating.

I m sorry I ve been distracted this afternoon, Lucy said. I ll finish my speech soon.

Gabby didn t reply. Beside her, a tall pile of political brochures needed stuffing into envelopes for delivery before next Saturday s election.

Gabby?

More tongue poked out and Gabby wrote more quickly. Gabby kept a lot of lists, not just about the stars that were the journal s intended subjects, but also about other interests: her favourite insects; her classmates. Why was she upset? Perhaps she d been embarrassed enough last time her mother gave a public address.

Lucy, usually careful about breaching her privacy, rested a hand on her daughter s shoulder, narrow inside her school tunic. Gabby, what are you doing?

She read one of Gabby s lists upside down.


Eggs

Olives

Fetta


Then, on the adjacent page,


THINGS MUM FORGETS


Eggs! Olives! Fetta! Gabby needed them for an Ancient Greek school presentation next week. Lucy glanced around the kitchen. Hoping for helpful elves? A guardian spirit of good-enough mothering? She had forgotten. We ll get the Greek food, she promised. They sell some at the new cafe in Eagansville. I ll take you there.

Gabby looked up. Her eyes were the clear blue they d always been, though her skin had the shine and pimples of adolescence. When?

Tomorrow, Lucy said, brightly. We ll find time.

Gabby continued frowning, as she picked up her pizza.

Lucy brushed a hand over her own forehead. There was risotto to prepare, that speech to finish. And-her stomach knotted-Justin was wrong; they had to tell Gabby about their imminent separation, before she discovered it for herself.

Something else on your mind? Gabby?

Gabby s hand stilled. She gazed behind Lucy as though the stove or splashback might help her formulate a question using only consonants she didn t stutter over.

What is it? Lucy prompted.

Gabby looked down at her page and sucked in a huge breath. What exactly is D-Dark Matter?

It s- Lucy cut herself off. Is that really what you re worried about?

One thing. You wrote those articlesâ¦

I did. Could Gabby s mood possibly be as simple as this?

Gabby jumped off her stool and, despite the pizza, stretched her arms out to spin like in a dance class. You asked why stars at the end of our galaxy s arms don t get flung off into space. Like my pizza would, if I let go.

Lucy laughed. I wish I d thought to describe it with pizza.

It would fly out and⦠hit D-Daddy on the head.

If he were here. Yes, Gabby. Dark Matter probably does stop stars being flung into space.

Why do you call it Dark Matter?

Because we know it exists, but we can t see it. Physics was simpler to explain than so much that Gabby needed to understand.

Gabby peered through the kitchen window, as if the universe existed out there, separate from their private space. Like God?

God? Gabby s teacher was religious. Lucy really had to do something about her. Politics was bad enough. Not quite like God, she said. We haven t seen Dark Matter but we know it exists.

How?

Lucy found a sharp knife to chop the mushrooms. We ve seen what it does.

Ms Jones says that s how you can tell God exists.

Were teachers even allowed to say such things?

Gabby grabbed her notebook. I want to watch Netflix.

On her way to the adjacent TV room, Gabby paused at a hanging tapestry of Australian flowers and insects. Justin s mother won prizes at long-ago Bowness Shows for her realistic embroidery, perhaps the origin of Gabby s fascination with bugs. Now, Gabby caressed a green and blue woollen cicada with a narrow fingertip. Stitched from bulky knots, with tiny white glass beads for eyes, the insect appeared to be pulling itself out of the backing canvas. Beside it blossomed the pale red threads of bottlebrush flower spikes and clusters of yellow wattle fleece, realistic enough to inspire a sneeze.

I have another question. Can I have a cicada farm?

People don t really keep cicada farms, Lucy said gently. Not like ants. Aren t you still interested in them? With the blade of her knife, she pointed at the acrylic nest on the kitchen windowsill. Nearly a year ago, they d populated it with a handful of ants kidnapped from the garden. Despite initial fears that the colony wouldn t last (surely they d crave a queen?), it flourished, its members always busy tunnelling and storing food.

Cicadas also live underground. For most of their lives. Australian ones only come out after seven years.

Lucy approached her daughter and ruffled her soft hair. Was Gabby trying to imagine their life in another seven years? She was only eleven. Much would change over the next seven days. Lucy had already moved a few changes of clothes and a bag stuffed with toiletries into the cupboard of her office up in Parkes.

I suppose this backyard already is my cicada farm, Gabby said, thoughtfully.

More guilt. Lucy would be removing Gabby from her home. Love is as strong as death, Justin had quoted to Lucy, once upon a more affectionate time. And jealousy is as cruel as the grave.

Gravity again! Lucy had laughed. You re always pulling me down.

When I was a child, we collected Black Princes and Greengrocers, she told Gabby now, pulling her into a hug. Not for farms. Researchers paid money for them.

Gabby dug her chin into Lucy s chest nodding, then pushed away. En-to-molo-gists? she enunciated, carefully. She had a remarkable vocabulary.

Something crunched between Lucy s sandal and the floorboards. A couple of green beads. Lucy slipped them into her jeans pocket. Repairs could wait. Do your ants need water?

Back in the kitchen, Gabby filled a medicine dropper with water and stood on tiptoes to reach the windowsill. I m their weather god, she remarked, removing the lid.

Her little Stockholm sufferers teamed up to push protective pebbles over tunnel entrances and receive necessary liquid. Ants have light receptors in the backs of their heads, Gabby recalled.

Are you learning about ants at school?

No. School is⦠other things. D-don t you remember?

I remember your Ancient Greek food presentation. You want exotic eggs.

That s what Ancient Greeks used to eat. Eggs from quail and ducks and ostriches.

I remember. Lucy smiled. I also remember you need to get ready for tonight. Perhaps Netflix should wait. Do you have maths homework?

Can I wear my new dress?

You can.

Gabby retreated to her room and Lucy continued preparing their meal. She swayed slightly to the music seeping beneath Gabby s door. Of course, Gabby wouldn t be doing her maths, but they couldn t have the same argument every single night.

Food sliced, diced and ready to cook, Lucy retreated to their living room. A little later, through the wide front window she watched Justin s car slide around their front hedge and past the heritage-listed outbuilding that was the original Fairfield House. Now used for storage, it was slowly crumbling.

Justin climbed out of his car and straightened his tie. He must be the last man in the valley still wearing one. Wind pulsed like solar waves and blew soil into the air; it turned to a skim of mud when it settled on his sweaty skin. He grabbed a briefcase and a white coat from his boot. He stared back through the window and waved. Coming home was a performance as much as any other part of his life. When he opened the front door, Kepler raced out, rounding him up.

Hello, Lucy!

She stood. Justin brushed his cheek against hers, like they were still lovers. His hair was the same auburn as Gabby s, slightly greyed, and his shape carefully gym-honed. Whiskery, his skin had the spicy warmth of hours-ago...
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