by Leanne Hall
I don’t reply.
‘Well, the thing is, we heard what’s happening there.’
She could be referring to almost anything. ‘What have you heard?’
‘Honey, we heard the Darkness is lifting.’
I look at Nia, who stares back curiously, wondering who I’m talking to. Behind her is a backdrop of night, patchwork roofs, stars, dead trees, abandoned towers. The sky might be bleeding purple at the horizon, I don’t know.
‘You heard wrong,’ I say. ‘It’s still dark.’
Acknowledgments
Thank you, always, to my family, for enquiring, listening, supporting and encouraging.
Thanks to my readers-slash-gentle critics Andrew and Nathan, for their enthusiasm and pedantry, and for being willing to travel to the stranger nooks of my imagination.
At the wonderful Text family, special thanks to my editor Alison Arnold, publicist Stephanie Stepan, and rights manager Anne Beilby. Once again, WH Chong has given me a cover more beautiful than I thought was possible.
Thank you to Readings for being thoroughly flexible and understanding employers, who regularly feed my love of books and my bank account.
Thanks to Ange for her creative counselling, writing boot-camp company, illuminating conversation and general all-round care.
I’d like to thank Peter and Juliet for letting us stay twice in their beautiful home in Kennett River during the writing of this book. The words came easier among the koalas and the trees.
Finally, I am very lucky to be part of a like-minded community of friends, writers, readers, bloggers and colleagues who spark my intellect, tickle my fancy, make me laugh and send me off into labyrinthine internet searches. You are all so curious, funny and clever I want to write down everything you say and use it in a book one day.