Marita Conlon-McKenna is one of Ireland’s best-loved authors. Her award-winning novels for children include Under the Hawthorn Tree, which has been translated into over a dozen languages, and The Blue Horse, both number one bestsellers. Under the Hawthorne Tree was also televised for Irish, British and American audiences. Marita lives in Dublin.

P. J. Lynch has been working as an illustrator for over twenty-five years and has won many awards in that time, including the Mother Goose Award and the prestigious Kate Greenaway Medal on two occasions. P. J. lives in Dublin with his wife and their three children.

I hate the new house.

I hate the way it looks, I hate the way it smells and most of all I hate that it is 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 see it. There is an old woman with a stall full of bric-a-brac. Old Dinky cars still in their boxes, stiff porcelain dolls with white painted faces. They look kind of scary but a lady picks up one and pays for it. I watch as the old woman wraps it in tissue carefully.

“Her name is Violet,” she says. “And she is a very special doll … remember that.”

The old woman has white hair scrunched up with a silver comb and eyes so dark they are like two black beetles. I look at the brooches and bracelets, and an old snakes-and-ladders game, and then I see it, right at the back of the stall … a snow globe. I pick it up. It is heavier than I expected. The glass is thick and the dark wood base is patterned with silver holly leaves and berries.

Inside the glass orb there is a girl with dark hair and a red dress and beside her a tree and a deer. I shake the globe and like magic the snow appears and the tree sparkles and the girl’s dress seems to glow and the deer is covered with falling snowflakes. It’s beautiful.

I shake it again. As the snow falls I notice a small rabbit peeping out from behind the tree and a robin in its branches. It’s so pretty. I look at the price … Far too much.

“It’s Victorian,” the old woman says, standing in front of me. “Antique.”

“It’s beautiful.”

A man pushes in beside me. He wants to buy the red velvet box with four dice in it.

“These dice will bring you luck!” says the old woman as he passes her the money.

I shake the snow globe again. It’s so unusual, special. I watch as the snow slowly begins to fall again, sprinkling the girl’s long dark hair and red dress and covering the branches of the pine tree, a snowflake landing on the rabbit’s nose … I really, really want it …

“How much money do you have?” the woman asks, standing so close to me that I can smell her old-fashioned lavender-scented perfume.

Before I know it I have agreed to buy the precious snow globe and given her all my money and she is wrapping it up in lots of paper and passing me a plastic bag.

“It’s really old,” she warns me, “so you must take very good care of it. It’s full of wishing and memories.”

I walk off happy …

“Where have you been?” demands Robbie when I find him. “I was searching everywhere for you.”

“Sorry, but I was at that old antique stall at the back.”

“Did you get all your presents?” he asks as we queue to get doughnuts.

I’ve already got Robbie a game for his PlayStation. They were on special offer in Argos last week. And I’ve got Dad a tie covered in balls – footballs, golf balls, rugby balls – that I saw in the sports store, but I’ve got nothing for Mum or our little brother Ted.

“I forgot,” I admit to Robbie.

“Well come on and we’ll get something now.”

“I can’t,” I confess. “I’ve spent all my money.”

I show him the snow globe.

“Is it for Mum?”

“No, Mum wouldn’t like it! It’s for me – I just had to have it!”

“Cass, are you crazy? How could you spend all your money on that?”

I suddenly realise how stupid I’ve been. Money is tight with the move and the new house, so this year there is a family budget on presents and I’ve blown all my money on one thing.

“Maybe you can take it back – get your money back.”

Robbie and I return to the edge of the square, looking for the old woman and her stall. We pass the people selling jam and big iced gingerbread houses, but I can’t seem to find the place where I got the snow globe. I walk up and down, looking for the old-fashioned wooden stall with its fairy lights and mysterious owner.

“Where is it?” asks Robbie.

“It was here, I’m sure it was here …”

But there is no sign of it – just a stand with a man selling burgers and drinks.

“It was here, I’m sure,” I say.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, sighing.

I don’t know what to do. I can’t ask Dad for more money, not at the moment.

“I’ve some money left – I can lend it to you,” Robbie offers. “But you’ll have to give it back to me. Promise?”

I promise.

The square is getting darker as we walk back to the stand with the patterned scarves, and Robbie helps me pick out one for Mum. I also get her a silver ball for the tree with ‘Best mum’ written on it.

Then we see a man and a woman selling hand and string puppets and I’ve just enough money left to buy an amazing dragon one for Ted. He loves dragons and always wants me to make up stories about them.

“That everything?” asks Robbie as we set off back home.

The snow has eased up but my face and hands are still freezing.

When we’re outside the house I can see the lights from our Christmas tree and the glow of coloured glass at the top of our front door.

Back inside, I run upstairs to my room, hide my presents and go down to help.

Mum is baking in the kitchen. She’s making mince pies and biscuits and Ted has an apron on and is all covered with flour.

Soon there are trays of mince pies and star-shaped biscuits in the oven and the house is filled with their smell.

“I hope they don’t burn,” worries Mum. “Old ovens can be temperamental. I can’t wait to get my new kitchen in a few months’ time.”

We have lasagne and chips for dinner. Ted’s worried that Santa won’t know that he has moved house. We all promise him that will not happen.

“Remember we sent him a letter?” says Mum as Ted gets dressed into his pyjamas.

I phone Alanna. She and Sophie are going carol singing with a load of girls from my old class in the shopping centre to raise money for an orphanage in Africa.

“You’ll make friends, Cass, honestly you will,” says Alanna, but I know I’ll never have friends like them again. I feel so lonely.

I unwrap my snow globe and put it carefully on the dressing table. It is so beautiful and I give it a slow, gentle shake and watch the snow fall and tumble and swirl gently around inside. It’s like magic, with the girl and the snow and the deer and the rabbit … I love it.

I watch TV for a while, then I go to bed. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about our old house. We always had a big lit-up Santa in our front garden and on Christmas Eve went next door to Tommy and Linda’s. On Christmas Day all our relations would call and then come over for dinner, the kids at one table and the grown-ups at another … But this Christmas it’s going to be awful!

My room is freezing cold. There is a draught from the window and I get up to make sure it is fully closed. It is, but the windows are so old and they rattle. Dad says we’ll have new ones when we can afford them. I pull on a fleece hoodie over my pyjamas. I shake my snow globe and as the snow begins to fall and fall I wish that this Christmas could be like last year’s … The robin is there on the branch of the tree, the girl is holding her hands up to the snow.

I fall asleep for a while and when I wake it’s very dark and the room even colder. I dare not breathe as I feel cold snowflakes swirl around my bed. The moonlight falls on the snow globe and I can see the girl with the long dark hair in her red dress catch the snowflakes. She looks at me. Her skin is white, as white as snow, and her eyes are dark as coal and it seems like my room is filled with snow.

“Come,” she whispers.

I walk downstairs and can see the living room is bright and the massive Christmas tree in the window is covered in baubles and lights. The fire is blazing and swags of holly and ivy hang from the mantelpiece where candles glow.

I cannot believe it – the room looks so different. There are bright patterned cushions and a massive footstool and a big plush plum-coloured velvet couch where our old brown one usually goes.

Then I see her, the girl with the long dark hair like my own, laughing and hanging some glass ornaments from the Christmas-tree branches. They seem to shine and catch the light. A star, a moon, a deer, a rabbit, a small glass robin, each tied with a piece of red ribbon. The door to the dining room is open and I can see the big table set with plates and cutlery and glasses. Two huge candelabras highlight the table filled with food and I watch as the girl runs in to sit down …

Suddenly, the door closes and I’m back upstairs. The house is quiet except for Dad, who I can hear snoring, loudly and rhythmically, like he always does.

“For heaven’s sake, get up, Cass!” orders Mum. “Granny and Granddad have just phoned to say that Sandra’s boys are sick with chickenpox, so I’ve invited them to come and stay with us for Christmas instead … They’ll be here tomorrow.”

I can’t believe it, my wish is coming true! Granny and Granddad are coming here on Christmas Day and we’ll be together! I run downstairs and grab some juice and some toast and Mum gives us a list of things to do.

“I want the house to look good,” Mum frowns, “and feel warm and cosy and welcoming.”

That’s going to be hard, as the heating isn’t working properly and half our stuff is still in boxes.

“Cass, can you check some of the boxes upstairs? We need to find the good dinner plates and cutlery, and the white duvet-cover set for Granny and Granddad’s bed. I’ll put them in Robbie’s room and he can sleep in the bunk room with Ted.”

I know that the movers put some boxes in the small storage room near where I sleep, so I go to check there.

One half of the room is taken up with the cardboard boxes. I open one or two but they are mostly filled with clothes and shoes and summer stuff – beach towels and swimsuits and the parasol – though there’s also a box of books.

From the storage room there are steps leading up to the attic – maybe I’ll find what I’m looking for there. The light isn’t working and it’s gloomy and almost black as I walk up the stairs.

I leave the door open wide. The attic smells musty. There is an old lamp and a crate or two, a rolled-up carpet and some old furniture. I watch a big spider scuttle along the floorboards. I am about to go back downstairs when I see her … the girl in the red dress. She is very faint, shimmering, and snowflakes fall around her as she sits on an old wooden chest watching me. I should be scared but I’m not. She smiles at me and I feel like we are friends. It’s as if she wants me to look around the attic.

As I turn around I almost fall over a big brown box. It has ‘Dinner Set’ written in black marker on it.

“I’ve found the plates and cutlery!” I yell and Mum comes upstairs to join me in the attic.

“It’s cold up here but at least it’s good and dry,” she says, looking round in the gloom at what is stored and hidden up here. Suddenly she spots the old couch and footstool.

“Look at these, Cass!” she says, excited. “They must have been left behind when the house was sold.

“They used to be in the drawing room,” I blurt out, recognising the plum-coloured couch.

“Imagine that,” says Mum, smiling. “Hidden away up here, they’re worn and threadbare but otherwise perfect. When we get some money we’ll get them reupholstered and covered and use them back in the drawing room.”

Mum and I carry the heavy box downstairs and unpack it and wash all our good plates and bowls for Christmas dinner tomorrow. Robbie and Ted and I spend the rest of the day helping Mum and Dad. I wrap my presents and put them under the tree. We stay up late watching Christmas movies and Dad makes popcorn.

There is a full moon when I am going to bed, which makes the street and the river outside my window look like silver. Without thinking, I pick up my snow globe and ever so slowly turn it upside down, watching the snow gently fall, covering the tree and the deer and the girl … There is something so weird and strange and special about it. I give it a really good shake and the snow falls faster as the tree is iced with white and the girl’s fingers try to grasp it and the deer has snowflakes on his nose.

I look at the girl. She’s just a girl in a glass bubble, I tell myself over and over again. I wish that I could stop missing my friends and our old house so much.

The snow falls … and the room gets colder and colder.

When I open my eyes the girl in the red dress is standing near my window looking at the moon, the robin perched beside her.

“Don’t be scared,” she says. “I’m your friend.”

I watch as the room fills with snow.

“You will not be lonely here in this house!” she says and laughs, her breath cold as ice.

When I wake she is gone.

*

On Christmas morning there is a new bike for me, a phone for Robbie, and Ted gets a huge Lego castle with a dungeon and dragons and soldiers. Then, after a big breakfast, we all walk to church.

“What a beautiful old house,” says Granny, when she and Granddad arrive later on, laden down with presents and wine and a big plum pudding. “It must be full of history and memories.”

Granddad admires the bay windows and the stairs and the fireplace, and Granny loves their bedroom with its tall windows and high ceilings, and the old-fashioned bathroom with the long flush toilet chain.

We all gather round the tree to open our presents. The fairy lights sparkle, the fire is blazing and the house is warm at last as the plumber came late last night and fixed the heating. Robbie and I cut down branches of holly and ivy from our garden to decorate the hall and stairs and the mantelpiece and dining room.

Robbie gives me the cute pink hat from the market, and a set of biscuit cutters. Dad puts on his new tie and Mum loves the scarf I gave her and Ted calls his dragon puppet Max! Granny and Granddad have got presents for us too, with a really big one for Mum and Dad. It’s a pair of silver candelabras.

“They’ve been in the family for years,” confesses Granddad, “but we thought with an old house like this they would be perfect.”

“Thank you,” says Mum, “they are beautiful. I’ll put them on the table.”

Ted’s given a remote-control car and Robbie a really cool pair of earphones that he has wanted for ages.

Then Granny passes me a box.

Curious, I open it. Inside there are six perfect glass Christmas ornaments. I lift them out carefully – two robins, a rabbit and a deer, and a star and moon, each threaded with a loop of red ribbon. I can’t believe it!

“Granny, they are beautiful! Where did you get them?”

“I saw them in a shop window and thought they were so pretty I couldn’t resist them.”

It’s like some kind of strange magic is happening as Ted helps me to hang each one on our tree.

Mum is busy getting the dinner ready and Robbie and I set the oak dining table with our Christmas tablecloth and the china serving dishes and Dad puts the tall white candles in the candelabras in the centre. The room looks just the way I saw it before …

Sitting down to Christmas dinner the candles flicker and are reflected in our big mirror as we eat plates of turkey and ham and stuffing followed by mince pies and some of Granny’s pudding.

Afterwards we play charades and watch TV as Granddad dozes in the armchair. I can’t believe that we have had our first Christmas in the new house … I almost phone Alanna and Sophie but decide to wait until tomorrow.

“It’s snowing!” Dad calls and we all run to the window to watch.

It’s coming down really heavily, covering the path and the street outside.

“The weather forecast says it could last for days,” he tells us, and it does, lasting all week.

Everything looks so different, icy and white – our house and the garden and the street and the town. We make snowmen and have snowball fights with some of the neighbours. Granny and Granddad stay until after the New Year, our house crowded and noisy, beginning to feel like home.

Now I am getting ready for bed, the night before I go to my new school. I’m really nervous about it.

I shake the snow globe hard so the snow is almost like a snowstorm, watching it swirl and move so I can barely see the girl in the red dress and the deer and the rabbit.

“I wish that school will be OK.”

I wake in the middle of the night feeling cold. It’s like I am in a blizzard and I can see inside a big building with corridors and classrooms. I see desks and a whiteboard and rows and rows of students. I feel scared. Then I hear voices floating up in the air, singing …

I hold my breath. She is there again – the snow at her feet, the deer standing nervously beside her. I knew she would come …

“Don’t be afraid,” she whispers slowly. “I am always here …”

In the morning I get dressed and put on my new school uniform. I wish that I didn’t have to go to school but Ted is starting too. Mum is taking him as she wants to settle him in with his new teacher and class.

I am standing at the front door waiting for them when I see a girl coming out of the house a few doors away from us. She is wearing the same navy-and-grey uniform as me. She smiles at me and walks over.

“You starting at St Paul’s?” she asks.

I nod.

“I’m in class six; which class are you in?”

“Six.”

“You just move into the house? I knew the old lady who lived there – she died last year.”

“We moved in a few days before Christmas. My dad’s got a new job here.”

“We went to my nan’s in Scotland for Christmas but with the bad weather we only got home three days ago,” she explains. “By the way, my name is Ella.”

“And I’m Cass.”

“Are you ready to go now?”

“I have to wait for my little brother.”

“Well I’d better go but I’ll see you later.” She smiles. Ella’s got braces and has short curly hair and I immediately like her.

Ted is taking ages and Mum has his lunch box in her hand as she locks the front door.

“You OK?” I ask him. He must be scared too.

“I couldn’t find him,” sighs Mum. “Do you know where he was? Upstairs in your bedroom playing with your snow globe thing.”

“I just wanted to shake the snow,” he protests. “I didn’t break it, Cass – I just wanted to see the rabbit again.”

“The little rabbit in the snow is cute!” I agree.

“I just needed to see him again before school so he’d make everything be all right.”

“See the rabbit?”

He’s walking beside me with his Transformers schoolbag.

“When you shake the glass it’s magic,” he whispers, so Mum can’t hear. “I see him sometimes when my room is snowy. The rabbit hides under my bed so I won’t be scared in the new house. He showed me our garden with a big swing and said he’ll be there when I get home to tell him all about school.”

I can feel my heart beat fast … thinking of the snow globe, thinking of the swirling snowflakes and the girl in the red dress … waiting for me …