An overview. That's what I've got now. An overview. I bet that makes you smile, even on a day like today.

 You know, I've always had a calling for open spaces and clear bright skies, haven't I?

  In the daylight of course. Dad used to take us out to Dartmoor, didn't he? He'd open the car door and we'd run and run. Remember that time you lay down in the heather? Flat out on the ground. You'd completely disappeared as far as he was concerned. Staring about in disbelief he was.

 "Where's Jack?" he boomed.

 Wanted to know if I'd seen you go. He couldn't understand why I thought it was so funny. I couldn't speak - what with the laughter and the stitch from trying to keep up with you. Then of course he started bellowing your name into the wind, and I could tell he wasn't going to get the joke. Not the way I told it anyway. You somehow managed it though, didn't you? You popped up out of the undergrowth and calmed him down, brought a smile to his face. You could always do that, couldn't you?

 Those moors. Do you remember the time he took us out there one night? I didn't want to go, not one little bit. Dad said I was being selfish.

 "As usual."

 Those were his words. He must have known you'd told me all those stories of the Hound of the Baskervilles and The Beast That Roams. "Jack needs to try out his telescope in the darkest place we can find," Dad said.

 "Hawaii's the darkest place on earth," I said. Trying to impress Dad with my knowledge, I was. He always liked it when we told him things. He wasn't in the mood that time.

 "Do you know how far away Hawaii is?" He sounded a bit fierce. He used that voice, you know, when you think you've done something wrong but you're not sure what it is.

 Anyway, we went up to the moor. I didn't want to get out of the car, what with the darkness and The Beast. You were hopping about while Dad set up your telescope. Shouting to me to come out and look at the stars. I've seen stars before, I thought crossly.

 "Let her stay there if she wants to," said Dad. That's what did it. Dad saying that. I forced myself to get out of the car before I'd counted to ten. By that time you were peering through the telescope, and Dad was pointing excitedly. I shut the car door very quietly, because loud noises could attract anything roaming those moors. Anything. I peered about, straining my eyes. Then I looked up.

 "Wow." The word was out before I could stop it. So many stars. Everywhere. Layered throughout the sky. I took a quick look round. No signs of Beast movement. It didn't seem quite so dark now. The moor rolled away into the distance. Everywhere was quiet. There was a tor not far from us, massive against the beautiful sky.

 "Look up," said Dad. He sounded irritable. I expect he thought I wasn't interested.

 "Can I have a go, Jack?" I said. "Please."

 "In a minute," you said. Well, it was your present, and you had read all those books about astronomy.

 When it was my turn, I nearly spoiled it, didn't I? Maybe you don't remember. I wanted to look at the moon first, to see if the face really was made of craters. But at the same time, I was still worrying about The Beast. I'm not blaming you for all the stories you'd told me. I loved them. Even the scary ones. I just wanted someone to keep watch while I looked at the moon. Dad said I was being silly. I don't think he ever understood what makes me tick.

 Now I'm up here, and I can look at our little blue planet rotating so regularly, so determinedly, in our galaxy. Sometimes I long for my whole life to start spinning all over again.

 Anyway, I can easily remember the journey home from the moors that night. You were bursting with all the things you'd seen. You were old enough to talk to Dad about constellations and galaxies. I stared out of the car window, remembering how the surface of the moon looked through your telescope. Not like rocks or sand, but sort of silky and welcoming.

 Dad tried taking us out again, didn't he? But the second time I really blew it. That scream.

 "Enough to waken the dead."

 Dad's words again. How was I to know that the dark shadow moving softly towards us was only a pony. Only a pony. You and your stories, Jack.

 I think I only became a scientist because of you. And Dad I suppose. Even now I'm reluctant to give him any of the credit. Dad always thought of you as the clever one. He was so proud of you. I seem to have spent my whole life wanting him to feel the same way about me.

 He really missed you when you went off to university. He couldn't stop himself talking about you and what you were doing. He hardly seemed to notice me, tagging along in your footsteps. I had to work hard to achieve half of what you did so easily. After you left home, I spent hours in my room.

"Listening to music again," Dad would say. He had no idea.

 Then later, when you did your PhD, and I had my place at somewhere that wasn't Oxford or Cambridge, Dad did seem satisfied. I hadn't let the side down. I'd done my best.

 Then there was your research to talk about. Whenever I came home, that was Dad's favourite topic of conversation. He loved to tell everyone all about it. How ironic that it's cancer cells that occupy your days. How terrible that Dad's illness came so suddenly, before you or anyone else could find a cure, or at least find some way of stopping the spread of his tumours. It must have broken your heart. You were always so close.

 I don't know how I was ever chosen for the programme. You could hardly believe I'd volunteered, and as for Dad ...

 "You'll hate it," he said.

 But you knew, didn't you? I remember your smile.

 "She'll be orbiting the skies, Dad. Closer to the moon than you or I will ever go." "Madness," he said.

 "At least there aren't any Beasts or Hounds up there," you said.

 Dad looked at me.

 "Why don't you just grow up. Get married. Settle down. Have some kids."

 At that moment I knew. Dad didn't want me to be as clever as you; didn't want me to pass exams with stars and distinctions. He didn't need another genius in the family, because he had you. All he wanted from me was this. To be a good little girl who would grow up to marry someone very suitable, and then go on to produce his grandchildren.

 Oh, Jack, I got it all wrong. And now here I am orbiting the world in the space station; one of the few chosen astronauts; envied by children the world over.

 I let him down so many times. Often I didn't know why. Now I'm as respected in the scientific world as you are. But for Dad, it must have been yet another let down.

 I'm sorry about today, Jack. That you have to go to Dad's funeral on your own. I want to be with you so much. Because I understand. I know you so well. You'll be thinking that at the end it was you who let him down, because you couldn't discover some way of keeping his cancer in remission. You couldn't beat it in time to save him. Or at least till I got back. So he could have us both there. So he could see at last that I wasn't just tiresome and a nuisance. So he could see me as I really am. His caring daughter who has always tried so hard to please him.

 A six month tour of duty is a long time.

 That stargazing has a lot to answer for, Jack. That's where Dad put you. Up with the stars. So proud of you. Of your achievements. You know, all that time I didn't want to be just like you, Jack. I wanted to be you. And all Dad wanted was a girl. A daughter.

 It can be lonely up here, Jack, in spite of friends and colleagues, in spite of the hard work, in spite of the jokes. I've had a lot of time to think.

 Actually, Jack, I've met someone. Here in the satellite. You'll like him. I wish Dad could meet him too. Then he'd know. It's not too late for some of his dreams for me to come true.