[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.“Oh, Jim,” she said.“It’s lovely.A kookaburra brooch.”“I thought it was a galah,” said Dad.“It’s a parrot,” I said.Whatever it was, Mum pinned it on and Dad took a photograph.Then it was my turn.I gave Mum the card first.It said something about how you know you’re middle-aged when your narrow hips and your broad mind switch places.Mum found it funny.Or pretended to.“I have four presents for you, Mum,” I said.“Goodness, Candice,” she said.“Four?”“Well, three go together to make one big one and the other is a piece of information, which explains why it’s not gift-wrapped.”“Information?”“Yes.It’s fascinating.”“I’m all ears.”“Not entirely,” I said.“Anyway, here it is.Most people think chicken parmigiana is an Italian dish, named after the Italian city of Parma.But you can’t find chicken parmigiana anywhere in Italy.They’ve never heard of it.”“That is fascinating,” said Mum.“It is a gift I will treasure.”“You are being ironic,” I said.“Possibly sarcastic.But it is your birthday and you are entitled.”“Those Italians don’t know what they’re missing,” said Dad.He patted his belly.“That parmigiana was delicious.”“Yes, but you think sausage and eggs is haute cuisine,” I pointed out.“Only when it’s with fries,” he said.Mum smiled.“Time for my second gift,” Dad said.He took a large envelope, curled into a cylinder, from his jacket pocket and handed it to Mum.He seemed worried.His smile was tight and he pulled at his earlobe.Mum tore it open (the envelope, not Dad’s earlobe), removed a document, and tilted her head to one side.The silence stretched.“I don’t understand, Jim,” she said finally.“What is it?”“A star,” he said.“That is the official certificate of ownership.There is another document in there which shows you a picture of the solar system, with your star circled.”“How can you buy a star?” asked Mum.“On the Internet,” said Dad.“This particular star is about two hundred light-years away.”I thought this was incredibly exciting.You see, Douglas Benson from Another Dimension had explained light-years to me one lunchtime.We had been in the library, though I hadn’t had a sandwich.The whole concept was mind-boggling.Well, my mind had boggled.I was confident Mum’s mind would boggle, too.“Mum,” I said.“A light-year is the distance light travels in a year.Now, light travels at about three hundred thousand kilometers a second.That’s eighteen million kilometers a minute, over a billion kilometers an hour.”“Goodness,” said Mum.“Goodness, indeed,” I replied.“So if your star is two hundred light-years away, it’s easy to work out the distance.Over one billion times twenty-four hours in a day is more than twenty-four billion kilometers.There are three hundred and sixty-five days in a year (we will ignore leap years), so.twenty-four billion multiplied by three hundred and sixty-five, which is.” Where was Mr.Gemmola when you needed him? “A very, very long way,” I finished.“Very,” I added, just in case she’d missed the point.“Very.If you got into your van and tried to drive to it.”“I’d need extra gas cans,” finished Dad.“And serious commitment to additional road building by the Queensland government,” said Mum.“I should tell you, Vicky,” said Dad.“The ownership document is essentially meaningless.Official astronomy societies around the world don’t recognize it.They have their own classifications and don’t name stars.It’s really a symbol.”“This is named?” said Mum.“Yes.That’s what the certificate does.”“You’ve named it after me?”“Not quite,” said Dad.He pulled out the bottle of champagne and filled his glass.He didn’t bother with Mum’s.His fingers pulled at an ear again.“Not quite?” asked Mum.“I’ve named it Frances Phee.So now, every time we look at the stars we’ll.well, we’ll know she’s there.”There was a silence.It was one of those that can go either way.To tears or laughter.I held my breath.“I know where she is, Jim,” said Mum.“Yes,” said Dad.“I know.I just thought.never mind.Maybe it was a bad idea.”“I think it’s a beautiful idea, Dad,” I chipped in.“Because I don’t think Sky is there in that cemetery.I think she’s.”“Enough!” said Mum.She put the certificate down on the table, but I noticed she avoided the pool of condensation from the water glasses.“I’m not sure I can.handle this.Not right now.”“Look.” said Dad.“My turn,” I said.“My three presents that go into one.” I rummaged around in my backpack (I was organized, though it did look strange against my floral print dress) and passed her a photograph, a plastic card, and an envelope.Envelopes were popular birthday gifts this year.She looked at the photograph first.“It’s a lovely room, Candice,” she said.“That is a beautiful chandelier.Two beautiful chandeliers!”“They’re yours,” I said.“Well, not forever.Only for a week in October.It’s a picture of a suite in a New Orleans hotel, just off Bourbon Street.In the envelope are three tickets for the flights, and the card contains two thousand dollars spending money.”I expected a strong reaction to that.I got it.Dear Denille,We are coming to New Orleans for a week! I know New York City is a long way from New Orleans, but perhaps you could come for a visit.We would be delighted to see you.We could eat jambalaya and listen to jazz
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]