MemoirWhen I was twelve years old, I was head over heels in love with a little red ship, the Danish polar vessel Nella Dan. She worked for the Australian Antarctic Division for twenty-­six years, and in the 1980s Hobart was her home away from home.

FictionOUR FOOTSTEPS ECHO as we climb the stairs. My grandma holds my hand. Shhhhh – be quiet! My grandpa is sleeping. The third-floor flat, the heavy wooden door, and inside the smell of warm pipe tobacco and homemade cakes. Take your coat off –...

FictionIT WAS THE best part of the day when Mr Peters read to us.He was reading a book that he had written and it was about some kids that had found a portal through time. I don't remember what...

FictionMum was sitting by herself on a bench attached to the wall of the ship under a Perspex roof. We sat next to her holding on to the bottom of the bench. I told Mum that I had been sick and she wiped my forehead and cheek and said, 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,' and it looked like she was crying. She said it was just the sea spray and the cold. And it was cold. It was freezing and the wind cut into my back like I had no skin at all. I could hear the water crack against the ship, feel it hit then hear the spray shoot up. Only I couldn't see it. I couldn't see anything past the light cast out on the deck. Out there the world was raging in the blackness.