OF THINGS GONE ASTRAY Behind-the-Book Piece and Excerpt

7/26/2019 OF THINGS GONE ASTRAY Behind-the-Book Piece and Excerpt

1/19

1

BEHIND THE BOOK

By Janina Matthewson author of

OF THINGS GONE ASTRAY

For a long time Ive loved the idea that the world is not quite as normal as we assume. I was raised on

Narnia, and the idea that magic is hiding in ordinary places. Everyone secretly wants to discover

something extraordinary whether its in themselves or the world

around them something that will change their life. But in my

experience, so called life changing experiences dont really do

everything they say on the tin. People just keep living, they get used to

things.

When the earthquakes hit Christchurch it felt like nothing would ever

be the same. And of course it isnt the same the citys still chaotic,

there will be constant road works for years to come, and the city center

is eerily empty. But the people in it are just carrying on. Because thats

what you do. In the aftermath, it seemed to me that when extraordinary

things happen to you, they can stall you, or they can motivate you, but

they very rarely actually change you.

So I think thats what was behind my writing this book. I was interested

in how, in the short term were so easily upset, so easily knocked off

course, and how quickly we can recalibrate afterwards. Theres a kind

of dexterity to it, I think, how we step around things that fall in our path to simply carry on with our lives.

And I wonder sometimes if a reminder that we can do that, is all we need to enable us to do it. We get

stuck because we think life is too much, that whatever has happened to us will leave us foundering

forever. I think telling ourselves that we can get through is instrumental in us actually managing too not

in a gritty, determined way, necessarily, but just with gentle repetition. Getting up every day and deciding

again to live with the new situation.

Books have always helped me to do this; they make you feel connected when you are at your most alone.

And Ive always gravitated to the ones that also make me feel like the world is full of secrets and magic.

Susannah Clarke, Andrew Kaufman, Neil Gaiman people who write about our world, but stranger.

Because the world is strange.

Thats why I like it.

OF THINGS GONE ASTRAY by Janina Matthewson; HarperCollins 360; Publication Date: February 3, 2015;

Trade Paperback; ISBN: 780007562473; Price: $19.99


2/19


3/19

Te Friday ProjectAn imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

7785 Fulham Palace RoadHammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published by Te Friday Project in 2014

Copyright Janina Matthewson 2014

1

Janina Matthewson asserts the moral rightto be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this bookis available from the British Library

ISBN 978-0-00-756247-3

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may bereproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,

photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the priorwritten permission of the publishers.

Tis novel is entirely a work of fiction.

Find out more about HarperCollins and the environment atwww.harpercollins.co.uk/green


4/19

1

MRS FEAHERBY

Mrs Featherby had been having pleasant dreams until she woketo discover the ront o her house had vanished overnight.

Tey had been dreams o when she was younger and more

energetic, dreams o a time when she had ull use o her knees.

She had saved someone in one o them, someone helpless, she

thought, but once awake she couldnt remember who or why

or what had happened afer the rescue.

It was the breeze that woke her, naturally. It wasnt that it

was a cold breeze, or even a particularly strong one, but when

a person has gone to sleep in perect stillness, the unexplained

movement o air around the room is a rousing influence, and

Mrs Featherby had never been a deep sleeper.

She looked around her or a moment in a state o bewilder-

ment that ofen occurs in the moments afer waking. Te light

rom the street was flooding into the room through the gaping

hole that, the previous evening, had been her bedroom wall.

Mrs Featherby blinked hard twice and decided to pull hersel

together. She stepped out o her bed and walked to the edge

o the floor, the wind whipping the hem o her ancient night-

gown and pulling at her long, flint-coloured hair.It was early, barely five oclock, so there were no people

around, but Mrs Featherby knew that when there were

people, those people would stare. She knew that they might

even approach the house. Tat they might ask questions. Tat

they might attempt to breach the sanctity o her home, o her

ortress. She set her mouth and turned away.Mrs Featherby, whose irst name was Wendy, or had been


5/19

2

many years earlier, did not waste time in wondering how a

tonne o brick and mortar could have been uplifed and trans-

ported away without waking her or leaving a trace o masonryon the road. She did what was practical and called the police.

She didnt particularly trust the police, but she elt that it was

the correct procedure.

She was inormed that an officer would be sent within

the hour, so, thanking her stars that the bathroom was at the

back o the house, she perormed her ablutions efficiently and

impeccably and moved downstairs to the sitting room to wait.

She wondered i she should have anything ready or the

constable when he arrived. Shed always considered hersel

lucky to not have had the police in her home beore, but the

downside to this was becoming apparent: she had no idea o

the correct etiquette.

Indeed, it had been so long since shed had anyone o any

kind in the house that shed all but orgotten how to go about

it. Te only person that had crossed her threshold in recent

months was the young man who delivered her groceries at

nine fifeen every uesday.

Was it correct, Mrs Featherby wondered, to reer to the

impending officer o the law as a guest? I he was to be a guestshe should certainly have, at the very least, a cup o tea waiting,

and possibly a biscuit. Te cake shed made on Sunday had been

past its best yesterday and shed thrown it out. She had intended

to bake a replacement, but doing so beore seven in the morning

simply or the imminent arrival o an officer o the law seemed

a little extravagant. And he might arrive in the middle o theprocess, which would be entirely inappropriate. She would make


6/19

3

some biscuits later in the day, she decided, as shed intended.

Tere was no need to rush the process.

ea would do, she decided. ea would be enough.Mrs Featherby sat still and upright in her chair, gazing

through her absence o wall into the garden beyond. She sat

still and upright and waited.


7/19

4

CASSIE

Cassie was lit rom within, or so she elt. She gloried or a momentin how little she cared about the strangers that surrounded her,

that may have noticed her. Let them look, she thought, let them

marvel at her secret joy. Let them recognise her as one o the

ew or whom lie holds wonder. For it must be only a ew, she

thought, that are designed to know this kind o exultation. I it

were everyone, the earths orbit would be altered by it, or ever

thrown off course by the collective gladness o its inhabitants.

Her eyes seemed to throb with the smile hidden behind

them. Te corners o her mouth were set in a curve that any

moment threatened to beam.

Cassie ran a hand through her hair and looked at the

arrivals board.

IB2202 rom So Paulo: LANDED

Te letters rearranged themselves: FLOSS IS HERE.

Cassie had been playing this moment over in her mind or

weeks. Months. All her lie. Tere were many versions.

Tere was the one where Floss ran through the gate, paused

or a moment on her toes, scanning the crowd like a blithe and

confident huntress, until she spotted Cassie and soared intoher arms.

Tere was the version where she walked through slowly

and careully, not even looking at Cassie till they were six

inches apart, but smiling all the while.

Tere was the version where she stopped as soon as shed

come through and the two o them stand there or a ull fiveminutes.. Staring at each other, right in the eyes, across the


8/19

5

space between them, both knowing they have an eternity in

which to touch.

Now, though, now it was moments away, she couldntimagine anything at all. All she could do was wait and watch.


Cassie watched the steady stream o people walking

through the gate. She wondered how many planes had recently

landed and how many passengers there were on each plane

and what the statistical likelihood was o Floss being the next

person through at any given point. She knew it was stupid,

but it thrilled her to think that the odds were rising with each

reunion.


Tere was a child crying. Cassie watched. Te girls mother

was trying to make her hug her ather, but she wouldnt. He

was in uniorm and Cassie wondered i hed been away so long

his daughter had orgotten him.

Te crowd around her thinned and swelled again.

Cassie hadnt noticed, but the corners o her mouth were

no longer curved. She gazed at the gate.

A flight attendant led through a boy o about seven. His

mother hugged him briefly, cautiously, and took his bag.IB2202 rom So Paulo had disappeared rom the arrivals

board to make way or other flights.

A woman jostled Cassie in an attempt to get to a brown

teenage girl with a pack on her back. Cassie planted her eet

more firmly on the floor.

She planted her eet and waited.She gazed at the gate.


9/19

6

DELIA

Delia tried to be quiet, she tried really hard, but there was thatdoor, that one door, the one into the kitchen, which always,

every time, in spite o her best efforts, banged just a little as

she closed it.

Bloody bollocks, she muttered, screwing her eyes closed

and waiting.

It was 30 seconds beore the tremulous Dee? floated down

the hall, but it elt longer. Still, it was always going to come,

obviously.

Morning, Mum, Delia called back. Go back to sleep. Im

heading out or a couple o hours. Not long. Ill be back to

make breakast beore youre ready to get up.

Why? Why are you going out?

Delia ought the urge to answer with a petulant I do what

I want.

Its a clear morning, Mum, she said instead. Teres not

another orecast or ages.

Delia waited hopeully, barely breathing, until she was sure

there was going to be no urther reply. She grabbed her bag off

the floor, where shed lef it in preparation, and let hersel out.Te heavy ront door was so much easier to control than the

flighty inside ones.

Te two girls who lived together over the road, who Delia

always thought seemed about twelve, were coming back rom a

party, turning into their house casually, as i this was a perectly

normal thing to be doing shortly afer five oclock in the morningon a weekday. Watching them, Delia immediately elt that she


10/19

7

was always, and by nature, simultaneously underdressed and

wearing too many clothes. She didnt remember ever going out

with so little clothes on, not even in what she had always consid-ered a particularly wild first year o university.

She wondered briefly what was going on with teenagers

these days, whether they ever properly considered the impres-

sion they were making on the world, beore she elt suddenly

that she was in danger o turning into the worst kind o maiden

aunt. At least, she would be i she had any brothers or sisters.

Te worst kind o spinster. I she continued on this way, shed

end up a bitter old woman who lived alone and never spoke

to anyone. Who resented the laughter she heard on the street

because it interrupted her peaceul, isolated days; trapped in a

prison o her own bitterness, shed wither and die and no one

would know.

She sighed, and resolved, not or the first time, to be less

judgemental o how stupid all the young people were. o be

less judgemental in general. Afer all, those girls couldnt have

been twelve they lived alone, that would be ridiculous. Prob-

ably they were twenty, maybe even as old as 22. Tey may have

been at high school at the same time as Delia. I theyd gone to

the same school, she could have been their preect. She couldhave told them that skirts are traditionally worn to conceal the

buttocks, rather than to reveal them, and that they can actu-

ally do so and still look quite alluring. Presuming that still held

true, o course; Delia suddenly elt unsure.

As she wended her way through the neighbourhood, Delia

began constructing a detailed antasy in which the two girls raninto a string o amusing mishaps, and came to Delia or advice.


11/19

8

Tey looked at her in wide eyed gratitude as she dispensed the

theories she held on lie and love and the world, that a serious

lack o lie experience had thus ar prevented her rom provingcorrect. She walked with a kind o sick eagerness. It had rained

brutally or the last two weeks, leaving her in dire need o escape.

Tere was a small square on a small hill a short walk away

rom the house. Delia planned to sit in it, on her avourite

bench, breathe the air, and let the world wake around her.

Afer hal an hour she realised to her surprise that, instead

o being at the small square, she was close to the much larger

park. She was disconcerted, the park wasnt anywhere near the

square, she couldnt figure out how shed got there. She must

have just not been paying attention to her route.. Her eet had

heard park and her head had said square and the two hadnt

communicated. She told hersel to be more o a grown up, and

headed through the entrance.

Tis was a park shed once gone to every fine day.

Tere was a picnic rug she used take, and a thermos, and a

basket with room or books as well as ood to last her hours. Shed

sit near a particular tree, an oak tree, moving in and out o the

shade every so ofen, books and notes spread out around her,

which shed weighed down with rocks to stop them flying away.Being outside had made her eel like her studying was less

evered and panicked. It had made her eel like the stakes were

lower, or like the outcome was already assured. When she was

outside, even i it was the day beore an exam, it elt like a gentle,

pleasant pastime, rather than a stressul and emotionally raught

step on the way to her happy and successul uture. She alwaysdid better with assignments and tests when the weather was fine.


12/19

9

When shed moved away to university, shed spent an entire month

trying to find a tree as effective as the one in this park.

Delia wandered through the park looking around; suddenlyshe wanted to find her old study tree. Maybe shed read beside

it or a while. Maybe shed just sit there and watch the sun

rise. She walked around what she thought was the entire

park without finding it, wondering i maybe it had been cut

down. O course that was a ridiculous thing to think; the tree

had been large and healthy, and i someone had been oolish

enough to slay it, there would have been a giant tree trunk in

place o the tree itsel.

Delia was becoming petulant. Te tree, her tree, didnt

seem to be anywhere. She elt betrayed, as i the park, unhappy

at her long absence, had reconfigured itsel like a labyrinth,

had made itsel a stranger to her. She walked round and round

and up and down, until, rustrated, she threw hersel down on

the top o the hill in the middle o the park. She drew her knees

up and buried her ace in her crossed arms.

She stayed like that or several moments, beore raising her

head and looking out.

Te clear dawn that had been promised turned out to be

twenty minutes o low morning sun beore a bank o cloudsswallowed the light. Te city was now spread grey beore her,

but Delia kind o liked it that way.

She knew her mother would be up soon, and Cassie knew

she should be there to help her, but she couldnt resist staying

a while longer. She would only be ten minutes. en minutes

couldnt hurt.


13/19

10

ROBER

It was as i the alarm clock had gone off. But it hadnt. Robertlay, blinking, eeling the ring echo in his ears as i hed heard it

moments beore. But he hadnt.

Mara was asleep beside him, her ace serious in a way it

never was when she was awake. Te light o the alarm clock

spilled across her orehead.

5:07

Robert was at a loss. He hated being inactive and he very

rarely was. Tere was always something to do. Tere was

always an excess o things to do. But not at just afer five in the

morning.

He groaned with rustration, and then grimaced with guilt

and glanced at Mara. She slept on.

Robert careully slid out o bed. Hed go or a run. It had

been months since hed ound the time. He hunted out his

battered running shoes, the same hed had since university,

and changed into an old t-shirt and shorts.

Te air was clear and easy to breathe, and Robert elt ener-

gised and enthusiastic as he jogged past the silent houses on

his street.Afer hal a mile a rown crossed his ace. Tis was harder

than hed thought it would be.

He kept going.

He reached a nearby park and slipped inside to run on the

grass, eeling a moment o relie as his knees registered the

absence o concrete. Ten he developed a stitch.He came to a panting halt and bent over, clutching his


14/19

11

sides. aking a couple o breaths, he staggered on.

By the time he got back home, his ace was red and

streaming and he was limping. He stood outside the house ortwo minutes, arms akimbo, gasping or air, beore he opened

the door and dragged himsel upstairs. As he walked into the

bedroom Mara stirred and opened her eyes. She blinked at

him a couple o times and burst out laughing.

Robert poked his tongue out at her and headed or the

bathroom.

You shouldnt laugh you know, he said over his shoulder.

Tis is me recognising the need to hang onto you by main-

taining a slammin bod.

Oh god, please dont take my laughter as a sign Im not

grateul.

Ill fill your grate, Robert said. Be quiet and let me shower,

woman.

He could hear Mara chuckling into her pillow as he closed

the bedroom door on her, trying to make sure she didnt see

him wince.


15/19

12

MARCUS

Birds. Didnt eel like time yet. Didnt eel late enough or birds.But there they were, so that was that. Birds could sense time

better than him, so they must be right.

He opened his eyes. Ah. Tere was the problem. Te blinds

were down. He usually slept with them open, he usually woke

with the light.

Strange. Tat they were closed.

He sat up and slid on his glasses. He crossed to the window

and opened the blinds. It was later than hed thought. It was

later than he usually woke up. It was much later.

He had a routine or the mornings. Always the same. A

light breakast o ruit. A ull breakast later, afer some time

in the music room. Now it wouldnt work. Now it had gone

wrong. It was already too late.

He went downstairs and stood in the kitchen. He was hungrier

than usual. He opened the ridge and took out the eggs.

It wasnt until almost eight oclock that he made it to the

music room. Much later than normal.

Te music room was the nicest room in the house. It

was the most important room in the house. Floor to ceilingwindows along two walls. Lots o light. He liked lots o light

to practice, although when he perormed he always requested

that the stage be kept as dim as possible. People should be

listening, he said, not looking.

When he had perormed. When he used to perorm. It had

always seemed important.Te rest o the house was covered in pictures, in paintings


16/19

13

and photos and sketches. Not here. Just one small photo o

Albert propped on top o the shel by the door.

Te piano stood in the middle o the room.He walked around it a couple o times, as he always did. He

closed his eyes and threw his head back. He breathed deeply,

and sat down.

He rested his hands or a moment on the cover beore

lifing it.

He stared. His hands, always so reliable, began to shake.

Te world had ended. His lie had ended.


17/19

14

JAKE

Jake stands on the ootpath acing his house.Hisschoolbag is heavy because o all the library books his

mother has finally remembered he has to take back.

No, that wasnt right. He hadnt been going to school that

day. I hed been going to school he would have been there

already, or hours.

Jake stands on the ootpath acing his house. he street

is quiet or a Saturday. Because it isnt Saturday. Its

uesday. It eels like Saturday to Jake because hes not

wearing his school uniorm. Hes not going to school.

Why was he not going to school?

It wasnt the holidays.

Hes not going to school because he has a doctors

appointment about his oot and then his mum is going

to take him to McDonalds or a sof serve. He wonders i

shell let him have one with a flake.

He is sweating. He is sweating because it is very hot. Te sun

is big and bright above him and seems to be soaking him

right through to his bones. Deeper than his bones. He wishes

he was wearing sandals instead o lace up shoes. His mum

doesnt like him to wear sandals anymore because she likeshim to always wear his orthotics. Jake looks down at his eet


18/19

15

and rowns. He hadnt thought his eet would betray him like

this. Hed thought they were allies.

He wishes his mum would hurry up. Shes gone back in to

the house because she orgot to bring

What? What had she orgotten?

She orgot to bring something or the smiling lady that had

visited last week. She promised to drop something off to

her and shes annoyed about it.

Jakes mum is also annoyed that they have to go to the doctors

at midday. When theyve gone beore its always been afer

school but she couldnt get an appointment with the doctor

because the doctors about to get married and go away, Jake

thinks perhaps orever. He thinks that maybe i the doctor gets

married and goes away orever hell be able to stop wearing his

orthotics and his mum wont be able to tell him off.

Jake has been waiting or a long time. At least seven hours he

thinks. He wonders i his mum would notice i he snuck pasther upstairs and put on his sandals.

When the ground moves, he isnt scared. It does that a lot and

all that happens is his cat will run all over the house really ast.

Jake thinks that is pretty unny.

He doesnt expect the house to all down like it does.


19/19

16

Jake lay still on his bed or a while. He didnt think he was right

about it being that hot. He thought he was right about most

things, but he didnt think it had been hot that day.He didnt eel much like going downstairs. On this day

two years ago his mum had made waffles with bacon and

banana and syrup or breakast, with a candle sticking out o

one o the waffles.

Jake didnt think there would be waffles this morning.

He didnt think there would be waffles any morning.

Documents

OF THINGS GONE ASTRAY Behind-the-Book Piece and Excerpt