The Impossible Story of Hannah Kemp by Leonie Agnew

Author:Leonie Agnew [Agnew, Leonie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781760657307
Publisher: Walker Books Australia
Published: 2023-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

All the way through dinner, I’m fighting the urge to jump up from my seat and rush upstairs. At last, we finish the final mouthful of lasagne and Mum says, ‘Right. Everyone into the lounge. I taped a documentary last night on polar bears in the Arctic.’

‘I’m not really into polar bears, Mum.’ I glance in the direction of the stairs, picturing my book by the dehumidifier.

‘You used to love nature documentaries.’

Sure, when I was twelve. I roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, well, now I don’t.’

Mum’s mouth twitches, like she’s holding onto words, and Dad says, ‘What about the dishes?’

Mum shrugs. ‘Just leave them.’

‘But Mum, seriously …’

‘I don’t want to hear it, Han. For once, we are having dinner and watching TV like a normal family.’

Mum takes a deep breath and I bet she’s seconds away from exploding. I don’t move from the chair. I’m still trying to figure a way out of this enforced TV viewing. I’m about to argue that a ban on screens should include watching TV, when Mum slaps the table, palm open, and we all jump. ‘So help me God, if you aren’t in that living room in five seconds, you’ll be on dishes for the rest of the week.’ And she disappears, storming off into the lounge and calling, ‘Now where are the damn SKY controls?’

‘Dad, she’s lost it,’ I say, enjoying the momentary satisfaction of being the sane person in the family. ‘But I’ve really got to go upstairs. I’ve got stuff to do. Homework.’

‘Not tonight, Hannah.’

I stare down at the plates and Dad nods at my half-finished meal. ‘It’s very Great Expectations.’

‘You mean Miss Havisham’s wedding breakfast? I’m trying to remember why she wouldn’t throw it out. She was upset because her fiancé dumped her on the wedding day, right?’

He nods, and I imagine the roast beef in ten years time, draped with yellow muslin and decaying on plates thick with mould.

‘You know, I’ve always wondered about that book. Shouldn’t bugs have eaten the wedding breakfast over the years?’

‘England’s climate is too cold,’ I mutter. ‘No ants.’

‘What? Oh, yes, and she had a servant, but I think it’s symbolic, a metaphor or something.’

‘But a metaphor for what?’

Dad’s mouth tightens and he presses his hand against my shoulder, guiding me towards the door. He glances back at the table, covered in food. ‘Nothing good, that’s for sure.’

*

Unbelievable, but Mum taped half the series.

Talk about weird, she’s never mentioned polar bears before. Is she turning into some sort of Greenpeace, climb-an-oil-rig-and-save-the-arctic hippie? I think about asking, but one look at Mum’s face shuts me up.

Two hours later, I’m finally alone and struggling to stay awake. Lying in bed, I’m holding the book open with three fingers, the heavy weight crushing my knuckles. Right away, I almost understand the attraction of ebooks. The pages feel thick and misshapen, but they’re readable.

I widen my eyes, fighting sleep, and pull the covers to my chin. I’ve started in the middle, so eager I choose any page, and my fingers tremble, small earthquakes shaking the words.

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