Borrowed Light (20 page)

Whenever I think about that power, I get a thrill of excitement. It seems magical, the ability to keep something in thrall that way, with only an invisible force.

I went on a bit longer, warming to the theme, telling her about the three very thin rings that were discovered by Voyager 1 and 2 spacecraft. I forgot about the sweat patches under my arms as I described those glittering rings, which were millions of tiny dust particles coated with ice. There is nothing as gripping as astronomy, I reckon—it kidnaps you and flings you up into a giant world, so that even if you remember to look down, you can hardly see your little old beetle-self any more. It's a great relief, rather like drinking rum and coke without the hangover. I was getting to the moons when Richard tapped me on the shoulder. The woman was edging away, toward the cake tent.

‘Got more than she bargained for,' laughed Richard. ‘You can take over my job.'

‘How often do you work here?'

‘Oh, only on a casual basis. I help out on special nights like these, when Jupiter or Saturn or whatever are in view.'

‘Do they pay you in lollies?'

‘Just about! This line is thinning out now. Do you want to go to the tent and get a coffee?'

But just then a group of ten people streamed in, so we had a lot more information to dispense. It was good the way it worked, with Richard giving background information,
preparing people for what they were about to see, while I talked to each person at the telescope. A woman of about my mother's age was looking through the telescope for the first time. ‘Ravishing!' she kept saying. ‘It's just
ravishing
!' She had so many questions, she could hardly get them out. We talked fervently until the man behind her grew restless.

Inside the tent, the air was warm with steaming urns and chattering children. I spied Jeremy near the lolly table, taking great handfuls of fluorescent snakes. He stuffed them into his pocket and went back for the frogs. Mr West pretended not to see. Honestly, Jeremy was like some starving child, storing up for the coming drought. The frogs practically lit up the plate with neon-green preservatives. I thought of Mum with her avocado sandwiches and bushes of sprouts.

I waved to Jeremy. His hands were busy in his pockets and his mouth was full. He gave me a kind of strangled nod.

‘Do you have milk in your coffee?' asked Richard. ‘I do here, it hides the taste.'

We poured some coffee and made our way outside. I signalled our direction to Jeremy, but he'd spotted the licorice allsorts, and was busy hunting for remaining storage in his shirt pocket.

Richard found a seat in the garden. From there you could see all the way down to the water, spread out like a cloak at the bottom of the hill. You could just hear it whispering against the sea wall, rustling into little folds and wavelets.

‘Beautiful, isn't it?' Richard said quietly as he sat down. ‘I come here sometimes just to sit and think. The world seems much bigger and more forgiving somehow, in this place.'

We were silent for a while. It wasn't the school memorial kind of silence. It wasn't awkward, either. But I couldn't help wondering what Richard felt he needed to be forgiven for. Me, I could name one huge thing. I wished for the
hundredth time that the undertow wasn't there. That it wasn't stuck like an ocean between us. My secret. It was so loud in that quiet place.

‘So how long have you had the telescope in your garden?' Richard asked.

I jumped.

‘You were far away.'

‘This is a dreamy place. I was twelve when Grandma gave us the telescope. We had a Jupiter night back then, too.

I can still remember how electrifying it was, to see Jupiter for the first time.'

I was looking at Richard, but suddenly Mum's face floated into my mind. I remembered her mouth that night. It went all sharp and jagged when Grandma named the moons out loud—Callisto, Ganymede, Io, Europa. I could still hear her chanting, like some celestial nursery rhyme. Mum had run away then. The porch door had slammed.
Gany
.

‘What is it, Callisto?'

‘Oh nothing, I was just thinking.' I smiled, but it was a rotten smile. It was one of those you put on when a photographer asks you nicely.

Gany.
I didn't want to think about that now. It was like being at the edge of a dream, in that intertidal zone.

Richard looked at me, waiting. The secret was there between us, it was so noisy, nagging away, and Richard was so close to me on that seat. It was amazing that he couldn't hear it—
Look at me, see what I've done, I'm a bad girl, you wouldn't like me if you knew.
I thought of that couple I'd seen at the restaurant with Tim. Their noses had touched while they talked. You could practically see their thoughts flowing into each other, like fluids in osmosis. I felt such an urge to tell Richard the secret—it was like a wave building up in my chest. I realised then that I'd had no practice in telling the truth. I had never really said what I meant.

‘It's hard to tell your thoughts,' I said, in a stumbling sort of way. ‘There's a distance between your head and your mouth, filled with all these little wires and networks, and in the unravelling along the way something gets lost. I mean, the more you talk, the further away from the original thought you get.'

‘Hmm,' said Richard, considering, ‘especially when you're concentrating on how the other person will react as you're saying it.'

‘Hmm,' I agreed. The dreaded blush crept up my cheeks. It was true—how did he know that? And why did I want to tell
him
, someone I'd met only an hour ago, when I couldn't tell my own mother?

I wanted to close the gap between us. I wanted to get close. I could hardly breathe with this need to show him myself.

‘There are such big gaps between people,' I said. ‘The more they try to close them, the bigger the gaps get.' I paused, and we watched a boat drifting across the water. ‘Do you know what I mean?'

He nodded, but didn't say anything. He just kept looking at me with that green, steady gaze. In the shadows of his eyes there was no light reflected. I was on my own.

‘Well, it's strange isn't it, incredible really. It's like the expanding universe.'

‘What is?'

‘These gaps. You know the theory. Once upon a time all the ingredients of the universe were so close. Every bit of matter was tightly packed against every other bit—it was so compressed it was red-hot. There were no gaps, like lovers melting into each other, and then BANG—'

‘The Big Bang theory!'

‘Yes. And all those close, intimate bits of matter exploded and flew away from each other as fast as they could. They've been running ever since.'

‘Into the expanding universe! Hey, that's neat. And all the bits grew cooler as they ran—'

‘That's right—the gaps made them cooler. So, what I'm saying is, the universe began in this burning hot state, it began in
singularity
—all places that exist today used to be the same place, right? Things used to be so cosy, without gaps.'

Richard pushed back his hair. He cracked his knuckles. ‘So you're saying that people get close, they heat up, and then explode? Like, what's the use?'

‘Well that's a very bald way to put it.' The words hung there in the night, stark as bones. I wished I didn't talk so much. Gaps—it's better if you leave some so the other person can fill you in. I bet silent types have more fun, like blondes.

‘I've never thought of it all like that,' Richard said. His voice had the smile in it. It was admiring, and he was looking at me intently, as if I were some new species he hadn't seen before. He seemed to be peering inside, as if he wanted to know where the words came from.

He cleared his throat. ‘Maybe we were all close once, like the original universe.' He was frowning, bringing his words out with care. ‘Think about children, for instance. I have these two nephews—they're only little, one's just started pre-school. It's incredible how they'll play with anyone new, without introductions, they'll chatter away about their families and their pets, tell family secrets to strangers so that their parents cringe. It's as if they think everyone is an extension of them—the grocer, the butcher, the woman next door—that we're all under the same skin, like some enormous human umbrella.'

I nodded. Jeremy used to be like that. I remembered the time he told the special delivery man that Mum couldn't come to the door because she was doing poo and she'd only just started. ‘She takes about fourteen hundred hours,' he'd said. ‘But you can wait with Cally and me if you like.'

‘I wonder what happens to us,' I said. ‘Later on, I mean.'

‘Maybe it's just growing up.'

‘Growing away.'

‘Maybe.' Richard leant toward me and put his hand on my cheek. He brought my face round to his. There was a sudden charge in the air. It almost crackled between us, electric. I held my breath. ‘I'd like to get close to you,' he murmured.

I pulled away involuntarily. ‘Hah, the Big Bang eh?' I heard myself snigger like Miranda Blair.

Richard kept his hand on my cheek. He shook his head. ‘No, I'd rather go slow with you, I don't want to spoil it.'

Such a tingle shot up my spine when he said that, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I'd been holding my breath, it was like sitting on a bubble, and the slightest movement would cause it to burst. I
wanted
to burst, I couldn't stand it any longer. I began to burble.

‘According to my classification, you, Richard West, are definitely a star. I can't imagine what you're doing with me, just a little old itty-bitty moon!'

Richard laughed, and asked me what was I talking about, and I told him about my classification system and that my mother was a moon, and my father was a degenerating star, maybe a white dwarf who'd been a giant in his day. I was burbling on because I was so nervous. Or maybe I was just terribly excited. I don't know. I wasn't used to being
happy-excited
, so it was hard to recognise. This feeling had always come under the Nervous category, with those familiar symptoms of talking too much and thumping heart. Maybe I'd have to invent a whole new section, if ‘happiness' were to be included.

Anyway, I'd never said any of this out loud before. It was intoxicating. (But I didn't mention the borrower bit. Borrowers can make you sick.)

‘And Jeremy?'

‘Yes, Jeremy. I think he's a young star.'

Richard was tapping out some rhythm on the bench. He was thinking, savouring the idea. He wanted to play this game, and I couldn't believe how easy it was with him. It was like talking to Jeremy, someone with the same blood, the same language, plus there were the pheromones as well!

‘My mother is the star in our family,' Richard concluded after a while.

‘What about Mr West?' I protested. For me he was a kindly, warming star of the nicest kind. I felt offended for him.

‘Oh no, he's definitely in Mum's orbit.'

‘Is she a strong woman—is she astonishingly attractive?' I felt a prickle of anxiety for a moment.

Richard laughed. ‘I suppose she's attractive. I'd call her determined.'

‘Does she work? What does she do?'

‘She's a naturopath.'

‘No,
really
?'

‘Yes, really.'

‘Does she have real, live qualifications? You know, with letters after her name and all?'

Richard grinned. ‘Yes, she's quite successful actually, her practice is really busy. She often gives lectures. You should come some time. She helps a lot of people, I think.'

‘She doesn't read tea leaves or throw salt over her shoulder?'

‘No,' laughed Richard. ‘Does anyone?'

‘No one I know,' I said quickly. I went red. ‘Does your father follow her diagnoses? Or is he in the grip of science—I mean, Western medicine? Do they argue about it?'

‘Not about
that
. Other things, they do. There's actually a lot of science and experimentation in naturopathy. Dad's quite interested in that. Mum is always reading articles
about new treatments—a different use of a herb, maybe, for some ailment, and she'll sit there on the sofa, reading little bits out to him. He always wants to hear more, but she gets immersed in the thing, and goes quiet. ‘Read it yourself when I'm finished,' she says. Dad gets annoyed about that because later, when she's folded it all up, he can never find the right bit. Like last night, she found something about giving up smoking—'

‘Your father
smokes
? I didn't know that!'

‘Yeah, he hides it well. Mum's always going on at him about it. If he smokes in the house, she walks around with a handkerchief tied over her nose like a bandit. She looks sort of dangerous, like she's going to rob a bank or something just as soon as she's finished cooking the steak.'

I laughed. ‘But I bet he admires her just the same.'

‘I guess so—he says she's very talented.' Richard gave a snort then. ‘But he still complains about dinner being late, and the way she sits up reading instead of coming to bed.'

‘Typical moon behaviour. You whinge and salivate at the same time.'

Richard grinned. Behind us we heard the clear high notes of Jeremy's voice, trickling into the night air. Richard took my hand. ‘We'll have to go soon. Can I see you again?'

I nodded, my hands warm and folded in his.

‘I like the way you think,' he whispered. ‘You bring everything to life.'

Mr West was calling Jeremy now. Any moment they would discover us here, clasped together on the park bench. ‘But I have my own classification system, you know,' Richard hurried on. ‘It's a game really—hide and seek. There are those who hide and those who seek. I think you hide behind science. Do you?'

‘I've never really thought about it like that,' I echoed, gaining time. ‘Maybe it's the only way I know to show myself.'