Indira Naidoo - The Space Between the Stars: On love, loss and the magical power of nature to heal

Advance praise for The Space Between the Stars

A tender, touching and at times bloody funny meditation on life. And death. And how to live. Naidoo explores ways to confront and overcome tragedy by engaging in the simplest, most rewarding things life has to offer. The Space Between the Stars is a little treasure. I am richer for having read it.

DAVID WENHAM

The world is crying out for more intimate and granular paths through the landscape of grief right now. Thank you, dear Indira, for taking our hand and bravely showing us how being in nature can provide the way.

SARAH WILSON, AUTHOR OF THIS ONE WILD AND PRECIOUS LIFE

A powerfully moving and insightful journey. Careful attention is a form of love, and Indira Naidoos vivid writing shows us how such love can lift and expand our minds and spirits, drawing us into the wonders of the universe.

DAVID GEORGE HASKELL, AUTHOR OF PULITZER FINALIST THE FOREST UNSEEN, AND BURROUGHS MEDALLIST THE SONGS OF TREES

This book is life-changing. From deep loss and despair, there is also light. Put your face toward it it may be the only thing that feels real in this time. Let nature do its job and fix what has been broken in all of us.

KATE CEBERANO

Indira Naidoos writing beats with the strength and power of love and hope, and is a moving meditation on the solace and healing we find in the natural world.

HOLLY RINGLAND, AUTHOR OF THE LOST FLOWERS OF ALICE HART

Part memoir, part requiem, part journalistic meditation on the natural world Naidoo has penned a beautiful reflection on grief, and the unexpected pathway she took to overcome it.

CHRIS TAYLOR, LOGIE AWARDWINNING SCRIPTWRITER AND COMEDIAN

Published in 2022 by Murdoch Books, an imprint of Allen & Unwin

Copyright Indira Naidoo 2022

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

Murdoch Books Australia

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Phone: +61 (0)2 8425 0100

murdochbooks.com.au

Murdoch Books UK

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Phone: +44 (0) 20 8785 5995

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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978 1 92235 161 6

eISBN 978 1 76106 415 9

Cover and text design by Trisha Garner

Cover artwork by Clare Walker

Author photo courtesy of Blackfella Films

Typeset by Midland Typesetters, Australia

We acknowledge that we meet and work on the traditional lands of the Cammeraygal people of the Eora Nation and pay our respects to their elders past, present and future.

For Alia

Authors note

This book touches on grief and suicide, and I invite you to read it with self-care. If any of the stories I share raise issues for you or someone you know, I encourage you to reach out for support.

Indira

This is a story of love and loss and the joy that can be found just around the corner.

For as long as I can remember there has always been just the three of us me, Dreamcatcher and Stargirl. Three sisters. Only a year between each. Three peas in a pod. Inseparable. Thats what everybody says. Its been like this for almost fifty years.

Im the eldest, the leader of the pack, bossy and extroverted. Dreamcatcher is the middle one, fiercely loyal, the conciliator, kind and gentle. Stargirl is the youngest, the dark outlier, the brilliant non-conformist. We are so tight even our parents cant break our bonds. They hover in the wings, rushing in now and then to rearrange the set or take the play on the road, but for most of the action they sit in the audience.

The regular upheavals in our transglobal childhood knit us even tighter. Another school, another city, another country. It matters not. We are all we need. Until now.

On a chilly autumns night, Stargirl walked out into her suburban backyard and took her life.

There was no note. No explanation.

How had it come to this?

She was a mother and a wife, a Walkley Awardwinning journalist with a Masters degree, a media adviser to state premiers. What had compelled her to end a life I imagine others would give their life to live?

For Dreamcatcher and me the stars went dark that night.

Is it possible to ever heal a tear in your universe? Can three now become two?

The pages that follow chart my search to find the light again in the dark places

And how a wise old tree helped me put myself back together.

The memory slices through me like a hot knife.

Theres a blanket of cloud across a big grey sky. The air is crackling with an approaching storm. A lawnmower drones in the distance. A bunch of rowdy kids ride past on their dragster bikes. We burst through the back door, pushing against each other excitedly as we race to the pool. Our skin is covered in delicious goosebumps. Me, Dreamcatcher and Stargirl.

Weve had to coax Dreamcatcher out of the house. She says its too cold to swim but we dont care. Stargirl and I scramble up the metal ladder and leap into the icy depths, gasping and squealing as the cold rises through our bodies. Dreamcatcher follows tentatively and tests the sub-zero water with her toe. She releases a melodramatic screech. Youre both maaaaaaaad! she protests as she scoots back inside, the flyscreen door squeaking on its hinges behind her.

Ha Yes, we are mad.

I squeeze my eyes shut and use my headband as a makeshift blindfold. Ill be Marco, I say. Okay! she says. Marco? I say. Polo, she replies. I lunge unsteadily towards the direction of her voice and, like a zombie, grope with my arms extended, but shes already dipped under the surface, barely making a splash. Shes always been a fish in water. Fluid, sinuous, streamlined. Even in a small backyard pool she can elude me.

Marco? I say again, straining my ears for any sound that may give away her position. Polo! she says just behind me. I swivel around quickly but shes anticipated my pounce and sidesteps me like a nimble boxer in a ring. Damn. Marco? I say again, getting annoyed. Polo! she shouts back from the other side of the pool, giggling. I lunge again and her smooth, slippery skin slithers past just beyond my fingertips. She picks up the pace. Shes darting and swerving like a shimmering King George whiting evading a predator. One moment shes in front of me, the next, suddenly behind.