Page 39 of The New Girl

Ruby knew that getting Robbie into Grangepark was a huge deal. She’d heard Mum and Dad and Suzie talking about it. Robbie could start in September, when he was five. Suzie said it was almost impossible to get in, but she had helped Mum and Dad fill out the forms. Mum had sprinkled holy water from Lourdes on the envelope before posting it. She said they needed all the help they could get.

She crossed her fingers as she lay beside her mum.Please, God, let Robbie get in, she prayed silently.

‘Anyway, how is the play going?’ Mum asked.

‘Good. I mean, it’s OK. I keep forgetting my lines but Safa has been amazing at helping me.’

‘She’s a lovely girl. When you think of all that she has been through it makes you feel a lot less sorry for yourself,’ Mum said quietly. ‘No one has it easy. Everyone has some mountain to climb in life. No one’s life is ever perfect.’

Amber’s was, Ruby thought grumpily. She had a rich dad, a mum who was always baking cakes and taking her shopping and buying her cool clothes. She got to use her passport all the time, going on at least three holidays a year, and she had the new iPhone and she had the coolest Pink backpack that her dad had got her in America. And best of all, she didn’t have a brother with disabilities and she wasn’t a refugee. Amber had no problems. In fact, her life looked pretty perfect to Ruby. If Ruby had Amber’s life, she thought, she would be so nice to everyone. She’d never bully people or be horrible to refugees.

Mum squeezed her hand. ‘You’ll be a fantastic Scarecrow. I can’t wait to see you. I promise not to miss it this year.’

‘Swear?’ Ruby said.

‘Swear.’

‘Even if Robbie gets pneumonia?’

‘He won’t.’

‘Mum?’

‘I swear I’ll be there. I’m very proud of you, Ruby. You’re a wonderful girl.’

Mum kissed Ruby on the cheek and put her arms around her. Ruby snuggled in closer. It felt so good to have her mum all to herself. She loved being close to her. Ruby knew that if Robbie got sick her mum wouldn’t make it to the show, but it was nice to know that she wanted to come. And maybe this year she actually would.

‘Mum?’ Ruby asked. But her mother was fast asleep. Exhausted from all the mountains she had to climb.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Safa

Safa felt the water rising up. She was sinking ... the waves were covering her mouth, her eyes, her head ... sinking ... drowning ...Baba, help me... Baba, where are you?

Safa jolted awake. She sat up in bed. She was soaked in sweat. Another nightmare. ‘Oh Baba, where are you?’ she whispered.

She opened her curtains and looked out at the moon. On the night before they left Greece, Baba had held her tight and said, ‘When you feel sad, look at the moon and know that I’m looking at the same moon and thinking of you. We may not be together, but we are connected.’

‘I miss you, Baba. I love you and I hope you come and join us soon,’ she whispered to the moon.

Safa had helped her mum write letters to the Irish Refugee Council, the Red Cross, government departments and anyone else they could think of, but they all said the same thing – ‘It takes time,’ ‘You have to be patient.’

Safa was sick of being patient. She had been patient when she was squeezed in the back of a smuggler’s truck for days travelling across Turkey. She had been patient when she was stuffed onto an overcrowded boat in the middle of the night, thinking they were all going to drown. She had been patient in the camp in Greece when they queued for hours for every meal. She was sick of being patient. She just wanted her family to be back together; was that too much to ask?

She thought about Amber and Chrissie’s sneering faces. Treating her like dirt because she was a refugee. They had no idea how difficult life could be. Safa wished her country could go back to the way it was before the war, before the bombs, before the hate and the violence and the fear.

She longed to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin and wake up to blue skies and the sound of Fairuz songs that her parents loved. She yearned to sit beside Baba as he drank coffee and read her interesting news stories from the newspaper. She longed to go to the market with Mama and smell the fresh fruit and spices of home.

Home ... Syria was not her home any more. Safa had to accept that. Before, she had believed they would return, but now she knew that they probably wouldn’t. She had to try to make the most of this, her new home. Ireland wasn’t so bad. The people, except for a few idiots, were really nice and friendly and kind. It was safe here. The weather was awful and the food had no taste, but in Ireland she didn’t have to live in fear of bombs or death. In Ireland she didn’t hear bad news every day. In Ireland her loved ones didn’t die. In Ireland she could stop being afraid all the time.

One thing Safa had learned over the last few years was that everyone had problems – some big, some small. She had met people from all over the world in the camp in Greece and everyone had a sad story. And even here, in safe, peaceful Ireland, people had problems. Look at Ruby – her life wasn’t easy. So maybe it didn’t matter where you came from; maybe some people just had harder lives than others.

Safa snuggled down under her duvet and rubbed her feet together to warm them up. She prayed that Baba would contact them soon and she prayed that Robbie would get into the school that Ruby said would make her family’s life better.

If bad things happened to good people, then good things should happen to them too. Safa fell asleep thinking of Baba’s smiling eyes and warm hugs.

The next day, St Mary’s were playing in a football cup match against their biggest rivals, Holy Cross National.

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