We Own the Sky(105)

I stand still, looking out to sea, its swirls and whitecaps like impressionist brushstrokes. I am shivering now, but not with the cold.

The wind has picked up, and I know the time is right. I take off my backpack and dig deep for the party balloons and the can of helium. I choose a blue one, blow it up, and then write on the balloon with a black marker.

Dear Jack,

We own the sky.

Lots of love, Mom and Dad

I move as close as I can get to the edge of the cliff and wonder if I should say some kind of prayer, but I just think of how Jack would have loved it up here: the blustering rain, the wind whipping through the overgrown grass like a scythe.

He was always excited by bad weather. I smile, thinking of him charging

around on a rainy Brighton beach, and then let go of the balloon. It doesn’t go far and starts heading down the incline toward the edge of the cliff and the rocks beneath.

And then it stops—perhaps some turbulence or an opposing gust of wind—

and hangs in the air, and for a moment I think it is going to plummet down into the sea. What is amazing is how still it is, an inertia I don’t understand, as if it is being held in place by invisible hands.

I walk toward the balloon and, just as I am starting to clamber down the

steeper section of grass, it is picked up by the wind, darting and diving, zigzagging up into the air.

I watch the balloon fly out across the gray sea until it is just a speck on the

horizon. I watch it until I am sure that finally it is gone.

    *





Acknowledgments

I couldn’t have written or published this book without my agent, Juliet Mushens.

It was her advice and unrelenting editorial input that turned my unstructured manuscript into a novel. Since our first conversation on the phone, she has always been my biggest champion and I couldn’t wish for a kinder, more understanding, kick-ass agent. Thanks also to Nathalie Hallam at Caskie Mushens for all of her help and support on some of the less thrilling aspects of publishing.

I also couldn’t have wished for better editors—Sam Eades at Trapeze and Liz Stein at Park Row Books. Since they first read the manuscript, their advice and reshaping have been invaluable. They have helped me trim and expand and shape and it has been more than a pleasure to work with them. Also, a big thanks to the copy editors, Joanne Gledhill and Cathy Joyce, for ironing out all the inconsistences, fixing my terrible punctuation and changing some of the more oblique Britishisms.

The book would never have gotten off the ground without the wonderful

comments and suggestions on the first draft. So huge thanks to Kathryn Baecht, Andrew Gardner, Ruth Greenaway, Rob McClean and Nicole Rosenleaf Ritter.

Thanks also to Jessica Ruston for her wonderful, extensive critique, which really helped me hone the manuscript. And thank you to Andrew Rosenheim, who gave me a chance on an earlier project, which convinced me I wanted to write long-form.

To all my friends and family in the UK and the Czech Republic, my

colleagues at Radio Free Europe/Radio Liberty, thank you for all the laughs and support over the years. Cancer is generally pretty awful but you all helped me get through it. Special thanks to “the lads,” as my mum would say. To all of you —in particular, Daniel Easton, Michael Howard, Ben Mellick, Neil Okninski and Glenn Woodhams—who, week in, week out, came to meet me for a beer before each round of chemotherapy. You turned something frightening and horrible into something lovely. I will never forget it.

Speaking of cancer, thanks to my amazing doctors who saved my life,

Professor Paris Tekkis and Dr. Andrew Gaya, who have been what every doctor should be: compassionate, patient and always willing to listen to my panicky questions. The same heartfelt thanks go to all the amazing nurses and support staff at the London Clinic and Leaders of Oncology.

I must also thank everyone in COLONTOWN, an online community for those

affected by colorectal cancers. It has always been a wonderfully supportive place and has helped me a great deal.

To my parents-in-law, Miroslav Jirák and Iva Jiráková, who, especially when times were tough, helped out more than they ever could know and have been just the best grandparents to our boys. Without their support (and endless help looking after the children), I could never have written the book.

To my sister, Ruth, thanks for all the love and support, not in the least for help answering all my nervous medical questions!

To Mum, thanks for all the love and for always believing in me, as a son and as a writer. You always had a quiet confidence in me and that is the best gift you can give someone. You are the best mum in the world and I am so lucky to have you.

To Dad, thanks for being a wonderful father and for teaching me, without ever saying a word, to never give up. I just wish you could be here now.

Most of all, to my wife, Markéta, who has given me so much: all the love, support, tolerance of my “jokes,” but also, practically, the time to write. You always said to me, you have to get better, I know you’ll get better—and that was enough. I couldn’t have done any of it without you.

And to my two boys, Tommy and Danny. You are my world, my everything,

but please stop hitting me in the balls.





About the Author

Born in the UK, Luke Allnutt is a writer and journalist based in the Czech Republic. He is married and has two young boys. We Own the Sky is his first novel.