Molly and Pim and the Millions of Stars
Read Molly and Pim and the Millions of Stars Online
Authors: Martine Murray
ALSO BY MARTINE MURRAY
The Slightly True Story of Cedar B Hartley
The Slightly Bruised Glory of Cedar B Hartley
How to Make a Bird
The
Henrietta
series
Mannie and the Long Brave Day
A Dog Called Bear
A Moose Called Mouse
MARTINE MURRAY's books have been published internationally and translated into seventeen
languages.
She has won the Queensland Premier's Literary Award twice and been shortlisted
for
the CBCA Award and the Prime Minister's Literary Award. Martine was born in Melbourne,
and
now lives in Castlemaine, with her daughter and her dog.
The Text Publishing Company
Swann House
22 William Street
Melbourne Victoria 3000
Australia
Text copyright © Martine Murray 2015
Illustrations copyright © Martine Murray 2015
The moral right of Martine Murray to be identified as the author of this work has
been asserted.
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright above, no part of
this publication shall be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording or otherwise), without the prior permission of both the copyright owner
and the publisher of this book.
First published by The Text Publishing Company 2015
Cover and page design by Imogen Stubbs
Typeset by J&M Typesetters
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication
Creator:
Murray, Martine, 1965â author, illustrator.
Title:
Molly and Pim and the millions of stars / by Martine Murray.
ISBN:
9781925240085 (paperback)
9781925095906 (ebook)
Subjects:
FriendshipâJuvenile fiction. Self-acceptanceâJuvenile fiction.
IndividualityâJuvenile
fiction.
Dewey Number: A823.4
This project has been assisted by the Commonwealth Government through the Australia
Council, its arts funding and advisory body.
WARNING, WARNING, WARNING
Don't attempt to make any herb potions, even though this book may inspire such activities,
unless someone in the know has made sure each plant is the right plant and not a
sneaky poisonous one.
To Little Pump and all the kids
who have lived in our garden:
Joey, Jip, Miro, Ollie, Pearl, Zoe,
Owen, Matilda, Sally, Sesi.
And in loving memory of Oshi,
the brightest star.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER 6: FEELINGS THAT CREEP AND SKITTER
CHAPTER 8: CHOCOLATE-AND-CASHEW BALLS
CHAPTER 25: PRUDENCE GRIMSHAW'S GUMBOOTS
When Molly woke up, she could tell it was one of those days. She sniffed to make
sure. Then she sat up straight and called out in her most thunderous voice, âHey,
I'm awake.'
Just as she suspected, there was no answer. The house hardly creaked. The Gentleman
didn't even crow. On a day like this, when the morning was making white shimmery
patterns on her wall and the birds' singing was sun-drenched and giddy, her mama
would already be gone into the woods.
Molly was the only girl whose mama went into
the woods, and Molly didn't like it.
She turned over in her bed and thought: I just won't get up at all, today is a prickly
day.
A day arrives with a certain feeling about it, and this one was a brimming and giving-forth
day, a day when the wild herbs would be just right for collecting. The vibration
in them was the best at dawn. Molly didn't like to think about plants vibrating or
emitting or sensing, as this was all part of the strangeness of things, and she objected
strongly to strangeness and tried to pretend it wasn't there.
Yet something had woken her; something had let her know today had arrived with its
own prickly plans. She suspected it was vibrations. Terrible, secret, mysterious
and uninvited vibrations.
Molly blocked her ears with her hands and imagined that her mama was just like Ellen's
mother who drove a nice clean car and gave Ellen muesli bars in plastic wrappers
and let her watch whatever she liked on television. Molly flexed her toes to let
them know she would soon be
depending on them. Everything was bound to be in a contrary
way this morning; even her toes might misbehave. At least, she comforted herself,
as least while her mama was gone she could eat crumpets from the packet, with blackberry
jam. Molly liked things that came in packets. Packets were what Ellen's mother had.
At this happy thought, Molly sat up again and called to Claudine the cat, but Claudine
didn't come. Claudine never came when she was called. Molly got up and found her
curled up like a croissant on the piano. Claudine was fat and black and glossy with
white paws, one of which she glamorously extended beyond her nose. She glanced at
Molly and appeared to be thinking lofty, superior thoughts about Molly in her mismatched
pyjamas: spotty on top and stripy on the bottom.
Molly's mama would say, âClaudine thinks we are slobs!' Claudine was not French,
but it was as if she thought she was. It was as if she should have been fed tarte
aux pommes (which is French for apple tart) all day long.
âWell,' said Molly, climbing onto the stool so she could stroke Claudine's nice fat
tummy, âno one really loves you, Claudine, anyway. We just tolerate you.' Then she
spelt out the word, T-O-L-E-R-A-T-E, as if this might help Claudine understand. But
Claudine, as usual, didn't care about words or love. She only raised her head to
look around the room for sunny spots, and then, finding none better than where she
was, she closed her eyes again.
Molly spread butter and blackberry jam onto two crumpets and squished the jam into
the holes so she could put even more on top. Balancing the plate on her hand above
her head, she danced an Egyptian Dance of the Seven Veils at Claudine. Claudine ignored
the dancing, so Molly put down her plate
and picked up her ukulele and sang âDrunken
Sailor' very loudly until Claudine stood up, arched her tail stiffly and slinked
out into the kitchen.