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Back Stargazing for Beginners Save as PDF
Contents ( 64)
  1. A Letter from the Author
  2. ONE
  3. TWO
  4. THREE
  5. FOUR
  6. FIVE
  7. SIX
  8. SEVEN
  9. EIGHT
  10. NINE
  11. TEN
  12. ELEVEN
  13. TWELVE
  14. THIRTEEN
  15. FOURTEEN
  16. FIFTEEN
  17. SIXTEEN
  18. SEVENTEEN
  19. EIGHTEEN
  20. NINETEEN
  21. TWENTY
  22. TWENTY-ONE
  23. TWENTY-TWO
  24. TWENTY-THREE
  25. TWENTY-FOUR
  26. TWENTY-FIVE
  27. TWENTY-SIX
  28. TWENTY-SEVEN
  29. TWENTY-EIGHT
  30. TWENTY-NINE
  31. THIRTY
  32. THIRTY-ONE
  33. THIRTY-TWO
  34. THIRTY-THREE
  35. THIRTY-FOUR
  36. THIRTY-FIVE
  37. THIRTY-SIX
  38. THIRTY-SEVEN
  39. THIRTY-EIGHT
  40. THIRTY-NINE
  41. FORTY
  42. FORTY-ONE
  43. FORTY-TWO
  44. FORTY-THREE
  45. FORTY-FOUR
  46. FORTY-FIVE
  47. FORTY-SIX
  48. FORTY-SEVEN
  49. FORTY-EIGHT
  50. FORTY-NINE
  51. FIFTY
  52. FIFTY-ONE
  53. FIFTY-TWO
  54. FIFTY-THREE
  55. FIFTY-FOUR
  56. FIFTY-FIVE
  57. FIFTY-SIX
  58. FIFTY-SEVEN
  59. FIFTY-EIGHT
  60. FIFTY-NINE
  61. SIXTY
  62. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  63. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  64. ONE

Meg’s beloved science centre is inspired by The Observatory Science Centre at Herstmonceux in East Sussex. It’s a brilliant place and the staff there are passionate about space and physics. The domes exist. The huge telescopes exist. The tea room exists. Go and visit them!

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Before Jenny started writing books about the Ladybirds (Bea, Betty, Kat and Pearl), she was an English teacher at a large secondary school. Although she loved teaching funny teenagers (and stealing the things they said and putting them in her books), she now gets to write about them full-time. When Jenny isn’t thinking about stories, writing stories or eating cake, she enjoys jiving and running around the South Downs. Jenny lives by the seaside with her husband and two small but fierce girls.

Twitter: @JennyMcLachlan1

Instagram: jennymclachlan_writer

www.jennymclachlan.com

Book title
Book title

ONE

A small naked person is licking me. I don’t panic – this happens a lot. The naked person starts kissing my face. I smell Marmite and banana and … hang on … the person is not entirely naked. It’s wearing wellies. Wellies? This is new. And totally unacceptable.

I grope for my phone … 5.34 a.m.

5.34 a.m!

‘Bea!’ Emma cries. ‘Happy birthday!’

‘Go away. It is not my birthday.’ I try to push her out of my bed, but she resists and we start to scuffle. Mistake. For a three-year-old, my sister’s a mean wrestler. I briefly consider being grown-up, but before I know it we’re having a proper fight.

‘I got you a present!’ comes her muffled voice from somewhere around my feet.

‘Present later?’ I could probably sleep with her down there. It’s not so bad, quite cosy and –

‘PRESENT NOW!’ she screams.

She’s clearly in one of her extra-special moods, so I say what I always say when I want to get rid of her. ‘Did you hear that, Emma?’

‘What?’

‘I heard Dad’s voice … He’s home! Dad’s home!’ (He isn’t. He’s in Mexico.)

‘Daddy!’ She shoots out of my bed and down the stairs, leaving me to roll over and snuggle my face into something warm and squidgy. A forgotten bit of banana, perhaps?

I sniff it. It’s not banana.

*

Two hours later, Emma’s come to the door to see me off to school. Headbutting me in the stomach, she shouts, ‘Love you, frog-nose!’

Birds fly off our neighbour’s roof.

‘Love you, botty-breath,’ I say, pushing her firmly back into the house. I walk down the path. Now is the time the shyness sweeps over me and I leave Real Bea at home and take Shy Bea to school.

Already, as I walk to the bus stop, Shy Bea is making me hunch my shoulders and stare at the floor. The further I get from my house, with Emma’s broken slide sitting on the patch of tatty lawn, and our red front door, the less I feel like me.