Through the Tiger's Eye by Kerrie O'Connor Page A

she gets back. She’ll be going straight to bed herself. Probably hardly had any sleep after that trip. She’ll be a nervous wreck, and I wonder how that little girl she was looking after is? And by the way, Lucy, I couldn’t find any of those extra spuds you cooked last night. You cooked enough to feed half the town. I was looking forward to having some fried up with an egg on toast for breakfast. I had to make porridge. Where did you put them, dear? Maybe that rotten dog of yours . . .’
    Lucy opened her mouth to defend T-Tongue but, luckily, Grandma broke off to concentrate on a tricky clue.
    Lucy served a bowl of porridge from the steaming pot. Then she had an idea. She hurried into the hallway, where all their books were stacked in boxes. She was looking for the atlas Auntie Alice had given her for her tenth birthday. Auntie Alice was a teacher and always gave her educational presents. Lucy had thought at the time that it was the most boring present ever . She was about to open it for the first time in living history when the book under it caught her eye. It was deep green and when Lucy ran her finger along its spine it was smooth and shiny – old leather. Lucy was certain she had never seen it, even though it had been her job to pack up all the books from their old house.
    Curious, she picked it up. Its leather cover was worn about the edges, as though many hands had opened it. It was embossed with an old-fashioned map of the world, in heavy gold. In one corner was a compass; in another an old sailing boat. On the first, yellowing page was one word in curly lettering: ATLAS . It must be Grandma’s.
    Lucy took both books back to the kitchen table. In between mouthfuls of porridge she checked out the index of Auntie Alice’s atlas. How did you spell Telares again? She looked under everything starting with T, but couldn’t find it.
    ‘Grandma, have you heard of a place called Telares?’
    ‘Never heard of it, dear, is it that new housing estate out near the shopping centre? Beautiful houses out there, Beryl says . . .’
    That settled it. If Grandma hadn’t heard about it, no one had. Except maybe Dad. Before he came to Australia he had travelled all over the world. Then a dog bit him while he was bushwalking and he showed up at Kurrawong Hospital. Mum had to give him a needle in his bum. That was how they had met. They never really explained how they had fallen in love and got married because everyone would always crack up at the beginning of the story and that was that. Mum and Dad used to laugh about it together, which felt nice.
    These days, though, Mum made grim jokes to her friends about how she should have let him catch lockjaw, the old-fashioned name for tetanus, because it made your jaws lock like cement and you couldn’t talk about science, morning, noon and night. Lucy hated it when she said things like that. On the other hand, if Ricardo . . .
    When Lucy was little she’d asked what an astronomer did. Dad had said he looked for dead and dying stars.
    ‘A star doctor,’ Lucy said, and everyone laughed. Dad was so clever he found stars no one had ever seen before. Once he even went to Hawaii to look through a huge telescope. Other scientists said he was famous. In his family, he was most famous for forgetting to eat, sleep and keep the lounge room sort of tidy – so you could walk from the kitchen to the television without having to take out life insurance. He just didn’t notice.
    He was always so tired from working that he looked grey – but happy. He never yelled at them. He always stayed up late to watch international soccer matches, and let the kids stay up too. They did have to ask him things four times before he even heard them, but then he would smile, say sorry and do whatever they wanted – even let them drink Coke for breakfast. Mum went psycho when she caught him.
    Then the fights started. He became grey and worried. Grey like a ghost. Mum shouted one day that she was sick of living