Free Don't Even Think About It by Roisin Meaney Page B

were going, couldn’t he? What could I have done? Stayed at home by myself and had beans on toast?
    So anyway, it felt like he was treating me like a grown-up , which made me feel that I should act like a grown-up , so I couldn’t stamp my foot and throw something. Iwas tempted to do that a bit – and there was a jug of milk on the table that would have been perfect – but instead I managed to say, ‘I suppose it’s OK, if that’s what you want.’
    It’s Christmas for him too – I had to remember that. And Marjorie is his friend, after all. I mean, it would be almost like me asking him if Chloe could come around here and have dinner with us. Almost, but not quite.
    Anyway, I have to say it felt good when he smiled and said, ‘Thanks Liz.’
    And it’s better that we’re going over to her house, instead of the other way around, so it won’t feel like she’s taking Mam’s place at all. And there are going to be other people there too: Marjorie’s brother and his wife and their two kids, who all live in Cork, and Marjorie’s father who lives with them. So there’ll be quite a crowd, which actually might be a lot better than just Dad and me here, all by ourselves.
    For one thing, we won’t really be able to think about Mam too much, with all the other people around. And for another, you can be sure Marjorie’s turkey will be a lot better than anything that Dad and I could manage.
    Bet it won’t be half as nice as Mam’s though.
    Right, I’m off now to revise for our Christmas tests. History and maths tomorrow, and I’m afraid I haven’t improved much in history since the parent-teacher meeting. Today Mr O’Connor said he hoped I wasn’t considering a career in anything that involved history. I promised him that it had never occurred to me.
    Holidays in three more days, hurrah – and I’ve managed to persuade Chloe to come to Nosh. Wonder if Chris will sit beside me.

Ten to seven, Monday before Christmas.
    She’s not coming home.
    A parcel arrived from San Francisco today. Dad happened to be in the house, waiting for a chimney sweep, so he took in the parcel and left it in my room.
    Here’s what was inside:
A red sweatshirt with a cat on the front of it
A Hershey’s selection box
A silver bangle
A Wallace & Gromit watch
A letter wishing me a very Happy Christmas and saying that she was so sorry that we wouldn’t be together, but that she hoped that Dad and I would have a great time, and she’d be thinking of me.
    As soon as I had taken everything out of the box, I went downstairs and told Dad that I didn’t want to talk to Mam when she rang.
    He didn’t ask me why, just nodded and said we’d takethe phone off the hook after dinner. He’s great sometimes.
    I’ll talk to her tomorrow, but I can’t today. I can’t go on the phone and say thanks for the presents, when what I really want to say is how could you do this to your only child, and don’t you care about me any more? And I miss you so much and I feel so sad and I haven’t seen you in a whole year and you’re not even coming home for Christmas. And you’re a rotten mother.
    I was so sure she was coming that I never sent her anything. I’ll have to find something tomorrow and post it, and it’ll be dead late.
    And it serves her right.

Ten to nine, Wednesday before Christmas.
    We got holidays today. I wish I could feel happier about that, but I’m still mad about Mam not coming home. I’m trying to be sensible and grown up about it, telling myself that she has to be home soon, that she can’t stay away forever, but it’s not helping much.
    Chloe was really nice about it. She said it must be awful for me, and she invited me around to her house the day after Christmas, when they always have curry. I told her I’d love to. I don’t think curries have too much garlic in them.
    We went to meet the others for lunch at Nosh today, even though I didn’t really feel like it, because I thought it might cheer me up to meet Chris and