miles and miles away from where I used to live and all my friends.
“It’s a nice city, Cass. You’ll get used to it and the new school is only a few minutes away from our house. Honestly, you’ll like it.”
Honestly I won’t, because I never wanted to move and leave Rosemount Park, the place where we used to live! But Dad’s plant in Kildare closed down and he was one of the lucky ones that got transferred to the company’s new plant in Galway.
“Why couldn’t Dad just go and come back home to us at the weekends?”
“Because we are a family and families stick together,” Mum said crossly.
So now we are living in Galway in an old house that is practically falling down. The windows rattle and my bedroom is up on the third floor. From it I can see the street and part of the river. Our garden is long and narrow and overgrown.
“Next summer we’ll tackle it,” Dad promises.
The house is full of paint tins and ladders and boxes and Mum says we have to put in a new kitchen as the old one has woodworm.
It’s only a few days to Christmas and I wish I was back with Sophie and Alanna, hanging out on our estate and seeing all my friends instead of being stuck here being dragged round the garden centre with Mum and Dad trying to get a Christmas tree. The ceiling in our living room is really high so we buy a tree that is much taller than usual and we can hardly fit it in our car. It makes the house smell of fresh pine.
Dad and Robbie search all the boxes, wondering where the movers have put our Christmas decorations. They find one box with some lights and our stockings and a few baubles but the rest have gone missing. We hang what we have on the tree and Ted puts the angel on top but it looks bare … like the house.
“We’ll buy some more,” says Mum as we switch on the lights. “Doesn’t it look wonderful? It’s as if these old bay windows were meant for Christmas trees.”
I say nothing.
“Cass, don’t you think it’s so exciting having a first Christmas in our new house?”
“I’d much prefer Christmas in our old house with our friends and the neighbours,” I say.
Mum looks upset.
“Cass, that’s quite enough!” Dad warns. “Listen, why don’t you and Robbie walk over to the square? There’s a big open-air Christmas market there. Buy a few presents, and for heaven’s sake try to get in the Christmas spirit?” He passes us each some money.
“Thanks, Dad.” My older brother grins, putting the cash in his pocket.
“Thanks,” I say.
On the way to the square we pass gangs of shoppers carrying bags and two groups of carol singers. The streets are busy and it is really cold … so cold it might even snow.
Eyre Square is all lit up and it really is Christmassy with wooden stalls and even a big log cabin. There is a café with red-and-white tablecloths and lots of chairs and some braziers burning. We buy long German hot dogs and have them with mustard and cabbage and they taste so good. One stall is selling giant pretzels and another has yummy hot doughnuts.
“We’ll get one later,” Robbie promises as we walk on. “I want to get Dad a present.”
He stops at a stall that has a collection of knitted hats and scarves. Rob pulls on a camouflage army one, and I try a cute pink stripy one. We wonder if Dad would like the dark green one. He could wear it when he goes to matches – Dad’s mad on football and rugby.
We decide it’d be perfect, so Robbie pays for it and then goes off in search of more presents.
“We should split up,” he says, and I guess that he wants to find something for me.
I head off in another direction. It has begun to snow lightly, the flakes floating in the air like feathers and tumbling gently to the ground before melting.
There are stalls full of toys and games and people selling jams and sauces and home-made cakes and biscuits. I walk towards the back. One lady is selling printed scarves. They look pretty … I wonder if Mum would like one.
Then I
“It’s a nice city, Cass. You’ll get used to it and the new school is only a few minutes away from our house. Honestly, you’ll like it.”
Honestly I won’t, because I never wanted to move and leave Rosemount Park, the place where we used to live! But Dad’s plant in Kildare closed down and he was one of the lucky ones that got transferred to the company’s new plant in Galway.
“Why couldn’t Dad just go and come back home to us at the weekends?”
“Because we are a family and families stick together,” Mum said crossly.
So now we are living in Galway in an old house that is practically falling down. The windows rattle and my bedroom is up on the third floor. From it I can see the street and part of the river. Our garden is long and narrow and overgrown.
“Next summer we’ll tackle it,” Dad promises.
The house is full of paint tins and ladders and boxes and Mum says we have to put in a new kitchen as the old one has woodworm.
It’s only a few days to Christmas and I wish I was back with Sophie and Alanna, hanging out on our estate and seeing all my friends instead of being stuck here being dragged round the garden centre with Mum and Dad trying to get a Christmas tree. The ceiling in our living room is really high so we buy a tree that is much taller than usual and we can hardly fit it in our car. It makes the house smell of fresh pine.
Dad and Robbie search all the boxes, wondering where the movers have put our Christmas decorations. They find one box with some lights and our stockings and a few baubles but the rest have gone missing. We hang what we have on the tree and Ted puts the angel on top but it looks bare … like the house.
“We’ll buy some more,” says Mum as we switch on the lights. “Doesn’t it look wonderful? It’s as if these old bay windows were meant for Christmas trees.”
I say nothing.
“Cass, don’t you think it’s so exciting having a first Christmas in our new house?”
“I’d much prefer Christmas in our old house with our friends and the neighbours,” I say.
Mum looks upset.
“Cass, that’s quite enough!” Dad warns. “Listen, why don’t you and Robbie walk over to the square? There’s a big open-air Christmas market there. Buy a few presents, and for heaven’s sake try to get in the Christmas spirit?” He passes us each some money.
“Thanks, Dad.” My older brother grins, putting the cash in his pocket.
“Thanks,” I say.
On the way to the square we pass gangs of shoppers carrying bags and two groups of carol singers. The streets are busy and it is really cold … so cold it might even snow.
Eyre Square is all lit up and it really is Christmassy with wooden stalls and even a big log cabin. There is a café with red-and-white tablecloths and lots of chairs and some braziers burning. We buy long German hot dogs and have them with mustard and cabbage and they taste so good. One stall is selling giant pretzels and another has yummy hot doughnuts.
“We’ll get one later,” Robbie promises as we walk on. “I want to get Dad a present.”
He stops at a stall that has a collection of knitted hats and scarves. Rob pulls on a camouflage army one, and I try a cute pink stripy one. We wonder if Dad would like the dark green one. He could wear it when he goes to matches – Dad’s mad on football and rugby.
We decide it’d be perfect, so Robbie pays for it and then goes off in search of more presents.
“We should split up,” he says, and I guess that he wants to find something for me.
I head off in another direction. It has begun to snow lightly, the flakes floating in the air like feathers and tumbling gently to the ground before melting.
There are stalls full of toys and games and people selling jams and sauces and home-made cakes and biscuits. I walk towards the back. One lady is selling printed scarves. They look pretty … I wonder if Mum would like one.
Then I
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