The Second Forever by Colin Thompson Page B

this, I think it will be the end of everything.’
    Peter had known the young woman, Susan, since his grandfather had first brought him to the gardens when he had been seven. Over the years they had become friends and even talked about Peter going to work there when he was old enough.
    The place was practically empty inside. The botanic gardens had kept the Great Palm House a secret.
    â€˜Can you imagine what people would do if they knew it was still alive like this?’ said Susan. ‘They’d destroy it in less than a day just to get the water or simply out of spite.’
    â€˜Water?’ said Peter. ‘There’s water?’
    Susan nodded.

    There were sparrows living in the tops of the trees, and some of the more exotic ducks from the dried-up lakes had been brought inside and were paddling about in the small ponds. The ponds were joined together by narrow streams that ran under old iron grating let into the tiled paths between the beds of plants that came from every corner of the world. At one end of the huge glasshouse was an enormous rock smothered in lush moss and ferns. The water that fed the ponds came out of these ferns, and as it reached the end of the last pond it fell over a smooth wide rock and vanished beneath a confusion of leaves.There were flashes of gold in the water as carp swam between the water lilies.
    Festival was speechless. There was nothing like this in her world. Apart from the overgrown wilderness of the island, which she has only visited the one time with Peter, there were very few trees in her world and certainly no orchids and lilies like there were here.
    â€˜Was your entire world like this?’ she asked. ‘Before it stopped raining?’
    â€˜Our world?’ said Susan. ‘What do you mean “our world”?’
    â€˜Oh, she comes from Australia,’ Peter said. ‘From the outback, where it’s practically a desert.’
    â€˜Yes,’ said Festival.
    â€˜Some bits of the world were like this,’ said Peter. ‘And some bits were like your outback.’
    â€˜And lots of other places were sort of in between,’ added the young woman. ‘It all depended on the climate. To get plants like this, you need to be in the tropics.’
    Festival hadn’t the faintest idea what the tropics were. She wanted to ask, but realised she couldn’t without giving away where she came from.

    The air was heavy and damp like a forest after rain, like the jungles of the world had once been. The feeling of the rich air reaching down into the Peter’slungs took away any doubt he might have had about re-creating the book.
    â€˜I’d forgotten what it was like,’ he said as he felt his eyes fill with tears.
    â€˜I know,’ said Susan. ‘We all took it for granted. We never thought things would change.’
    Peter sat down on a low wall that surrounded a bed of great tree ferns and pushed his fingers into the wet earth. ‘I wish we could stay here forever,’ he said.
    â€˜This place certainly makes you feel that way,’ said Susan.

    â€˜Yes,’ said Peter. ‘Whenever my grandfather used tobring me here before the drought, I used to pretend this was where I lived. I always thought that, even when I got older, and now it’s even worse. I really do want to stay here forever.’
    Festival sat down beside Peter and put her hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘We’ll make it right again.’
    They remained in the Great Palm House until dusk and then walked to the station to catch the last train back to the museum.
    â€˜The Great Palm House is a bit like my world,’ said Festival, ‘only much smaller. You can stand anywhere and see the boundaries. It is wonderful.’
    â€˜I suppose it is,’ said Peter. ‘Except your world doesn’t have a door that lets you go in and out whenever you like.’
    â€˜Not that we