Q1

Text 1 — Prose fiction extract
How does Pippos portray Lucky’s sense of hope for the future?

Text 1 — Prose fiction extract
Lucky travelled back to Australia with a Dutch-owned shipping company . . . His dark berth smelled of old shoes and had the green metal atmosphere of an office bin. The tempo[1] on board was domestic; some passengers made friends, swapped stories, played songs and crooned[2] together in the lounge. Lucky did not enter into the ship’s everyday life. He shared a cabin with two chatty Scotsmen and each day couldn’t wait for the hour they left, somewhat reluctantly, to spend time with their families. The ship passed tiny islands in the distance, as anonymous as clouds. During the three-week journey, Lucky felt as if he moved inside a huge diorama[3] of the world. He often fell asleep by thinking about the pleasing scenarios that awaited: his wedding to Valia . . . He and Valia on a beach in Sydney . . . From his cabin, inside of which swung his coats and shirts, he felt able to picture her at any time of the day, working or eating or sitting in the closed cafe at night, her hand flicking up to distance a fly. In Australia, things would be simple, things were arranged: they’d marry in December and afterwards, for a few months, Lucky would work with Valia’s father. Then the couple might see about starting their own business. If the economy improved. On the boat he had two gold rings hidden inside a flap he’d cut into the lining of his suitcase. Circular Quay came into view, heavy with activity, the harbour’s northern shore in repose[4]. Little homes lay as if stamped over the bays. Lucky came down the steamship ramp into the frame of a camera shooting for a newsreel. He smiled, waved, and stepped onto the docks.

ANDREW PIPPOS Lucky’s Reprinted with the permission of Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd © Andrew Pippos, 2020
[1] tempo pace
[2] crooned sang
[3] diorama a three-dimensional model
[4] repose a state of peace