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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

Plus, anything’s got to be better than sitting here and listening to her scream.

I open the door to Mum’s room and Elsa blinks up at me, her face red and furious. ‘Guess what?’ I say. ‘Let’s put a sock on that foot. We’re going stargazing!’

SEVENTEEN

It’s probably hard to get a happy baby in a sling, but when the baby is angry and fighting you, it’s almost impossible. Elsa wriggles like an octopus, but eventually I manage to squeeze all of her limbs into what I think are the right holes and I head out of the flat with her strapped to my chest.

I don’t know if it’s the cold, or just how dark everything is, but as soon as we get outside Elsa stops crying, sticks her thumb in her mouth and looks around. I don’t think quiet has ever sounded so good.

Pongo drags us down the stairs and towards the communal garden that rises above the hill behind the flats. We climb up, following the path that winds between the trees. Most evenings, Pongo and I come here for a walk before bed. Pongo chases rabbits and I look at stars through my binoculars. Even though loads of kids play here during the day, it’s deserted at night. I know most parents wouldn’t let their teenage daughters roam around in the dark, but Mum’s keen on ‘women living fearlessly’ – plus I’ve got a really big torch.

In a few minutes, we come out of the trees and reach the top of the hill and I stand looking down over our town. ‘Do you like it?’ I ask Elsa, my voice loud in the silence. From up here, we can see all the way to Hastings: curving rows of houses, cars moving along the roads, even the swaying strings of light that line the seafront.

Elsa pulls her thumb out of her mouth and stares around her. ‘Da,’ she says, kicking her legs.

‘Now look up.’ I lean back so she can see the sky. ‘That constellation is Crux and that’s Pleiades.’ Elsa’s eyes follow my finger as it draws a line through the sky towards the cluster of stars. ‘They’re babies, just like you, around one hundred and twenty million years old. Dinosaurs might have watched them burst into life.’ I look down and notice Elsa’s eyes are starting to close. Am I boring her to sleep? I start to sway from side to side as I list the Hercules constellations, and I watch her eyes narrow to thin slits, then shut completely.

Amazing!

‘Pongo!’ I hiss into the darkness. He shoots out of a clump of bushes and skids to a halt in front of me. ‘She’s asleep. Let’s go.’

We scramble back down the hill and creep up the echoing stairwell to our flat.

In Mum’s room, I ease Elsa out of the sling and start to lower her into her cot. The moment her back makes contact with the mattress, her eyes shoot open and her face starts to crumple.