Milly McCarthy is a Complete Catastrophe

Chapter 1

My name is Emily Maureen McCarthy, but my family call me I’m only ever called Emily if I’m in trouble, which, to be honest, is probably at least once a day.

I am 10 and a half, which is almost 11. My birthday is 24 JUNE, which is actually THE BEST date to have a birthday because I only ever have to wait six months for a present. Christmas is six months after my birthday and my birthday comes six months after Christmas.

My poor cousin Molly was born in December. How UNLUCKY! All your presents in the same month AND an epic 12-month wait until it’s present-time again. So that makes me a whole half a year older than Molly, although, annoyingly, she is TALLER than me by three and a half inches, so everyone thinks she is older! Sometimes life is just not fair.

Molly lives in Cork City, which is really cool because there are lots of shops and cafes and amazing places to go, like Fitzgerald’s Park and The Shakey Bridge. But it is also very noisy, there are cars, bikes and buses everywhere, but hardly any tractors, which is completely different to where I live in Ballybrogin.

An illustration with Cork City on the left, with a bridge, buildings, cars and a bus, and Ballybrogin, with one house in the country and a tractor shown.

Molly and I see each other at least once a month, but we message every day on our tablets. I’ve asked Mam when I can have a mobile phone and she says, ‘When you are mature and responsible,’ so I guess I will be waiting a while.

Milly posing for a family picture with her mam and dad, Ryan and Zack, and Issy in her mam’s arms.

I live with my mam and dad, my two brothers, Ryan and Zack, and my baby sister, Izzy. I am the eldest and, according to my dad,

I’m a COMPLETE
CATASTROPHE.

He says if there is trouble to be found, I’ll find it. He says it’s to be expected, with my fiery red hair and me being born in Cork and all. Sure, don’t I have rebel blood?

And really, I don’t mean to get into so much trouble, it’s just as Mam always tells our nosey neighbour, Gloria Jones, ‘In Milly’s defence, her intentions were good.’ Which was totally true about the time I gave her daughter Ellie a haircut when Gloria said she was too busy to take her to the hairdresser. Or the time I washed her car for free (it was just a pity the pot scourer took off the paint as well as the dirt).

And, now that I think about it, it is also totally, definitely, 100 per cent true about the time I posted the parcel the postman left on her front step through her letterbox.

Fifi the dog in a basket by the door, looking surprised at the package which is flying towards them from the letterbox.

Because really, how was I to know that their dog Fifi would it open and that a full tube of fake tan is practically IMPOSSIBLE to remove from cream carpet and white poodle fur?

Three illustrations of Fifi at different stages of ripping up the parcel, finally looking up at his owner with the mess beside them.

Honestly, I was only trying to be helpful, but sometimes things don’t quite work out the way I think they will – and that’s especially true about what happened at Fota Wildlife Park.

I was totally NOT to blame for the butterfly breakout or the unfortunate escapades on Monkey Island, and while I admit I should have thought twice before pulling that peacock’s tail feather, I really did think it was loose and not still attached to its butt. So, you see, if you really think about it, I’m totally, 100 per cent NOT to blame for the whole Green Flag failure,

Bees flying around some flowers