The Comet Seekers: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

Head in the clouds. And always staring at the stars, just like his brother, searching for something – not that that’s any excuse for running off the way he did. Taking Róisín in for the week was the least he could do.
    Of course you can, pet, he says kindly, wondering how a father could ever leave his child.
    At dusk, the stars begin to appear around the comet one by one.
    Tonight’s the night, Róisín says; she seems more excited than ever. They’re back out by the tent and she’s arranging the sleeping bag for them to sit on.
    But I’ve already seen it.
    That’s not the point. It’s not enough to just see it. You have to see it fly. You have to see it change.
    All right then. Liam looks up but her hands are suddenly clasped over his eyes. Not now. Not like this. Wait.
    She starts digging around for her maps and a sigh escapes his lips.
    She’s insisting he pays attention to the dots and lines on her sketch pad; some constellations are named, and they are the ones she points out to him.
    See this shape?
    Yes.
    OK, good, now remember that. And see here? That’s where the comet was last night. OK?
    Yes, yes, yes.
    Grand. I think you’re ready. And it’s nearly time.
    Her ponytail has come loose in the breeze and a strip of hair is caught in her mouth. He reaches to her face and brushes it away.
    Of course I’m ready, he says, and she looks at him as if she’s pleased.
    Liam wonders how his cousin got to be so bossy. He likes it though, in secret. It’s not often someone tells him what to do; it’s not often that someone even notices him. He once heard his dad talking about the farm to one of his great-aunts that came to visit from Dublin. It was just after the funeral, on the day everyone came for cake. He said that the world didn’t need the farm, but that his heart wouldn’t let him leave.
    When Liam remembers that, he wonders if it was really the farm his dad was talking about.
    Now, I’m going to prove to you that the comet is flying faster than anything else in the sky.
    But it’s still not moving.
    She puts her notebook down on the grass and squeezes his hand tight.
    I’ll help you.
    How are you going to help?
    Don’t look up, look here. Remember?
    She puts her map on his lap and he stares at it, trying to memorise the shapes, biting onto his bottom lip in the expression that he’s had when concentrating since he was learning to read and write; learning to build a farm with wooden blocks.
    This is exactly what the sky looked like last night, at exactly this time. Now close your eyes.
    But I’ll miss it moving if I do that.
    You won’t miss it moving, you’ll notice that it has moved, and that’s different.
    OK, Liam says with a bit of trust, and a bit of uncertainty, and a bit of something else that he’s not able to describe.
    Go on, she insists. Close your eyes. For me. Please?
    This time Liam closes his eyes.
    He feels Róisín moving, but keeping hold of his hand. He can tell she’s sitting up. Next, he feels the air get warmer, his shivers stop, the breeze dies down. And then she plants a kiss on his lips. It is the swift, soft kiss of children, of cousins and best friends; of someone who has known you since the day you were born. She lies back down and the breeze picks up, the smells of the farm brush over his skin. His lips feel tingly. He keeps his eyes closed as he listens to the sound of her lying back down on the grass, and listens for the sound of the comet flying overhead. What kind of sound would that make? The sound of running out past the horses’ shelter, past the stream that winds along the bottom of the field and up the hill, up to the highest point of the village, to look backat things that are small and big and that make up everything he has known in his life.
    OK. You can open your eyes now.
    Liam opens his eyes.
    At first he can’t find it. He looks back to the bright star it had been next to, then sideways to Róisín. He looks for the constellations, but the