Moving to a new place was never easy, especially at this time of year . . .
BY ALYSON HILBOURNE
THE letter-box banged. “I’ll go!” Kieran jumped up and ran to the hallway. Helen pushed a hand through her hair and looked down at the figures on her computer tablet.
There was no extra for Christmas. There was barely enough to get by.
She sighed.
Maybe she could ask her bank for a loan.
She shook her head. She needed a job and it had to fit around school hours.
“It’s a Christmas-tree-building competition,” Kieran declared, squinting at the paper. “In the village hall on Saturday.”
“That’s nice,” Helen
replied, her mind still on money.
“Can I go?” Kieran asked. “It’s two pounds and there will be cake and craft stalls. It’s to raise funds for the food bank.”
“Oh.” Helen’s heart sank.
She couldn’t say no. There had been too many of those recently.
The following afternoon when Helen collected Kieran from school, he was talking about the competition.
“Jamie’s going to build a tree out of Lego. Samantha says she’ll use egg boxes.”
“Who are Jamie and Samantha?” Helen asked. “Are they your friends?”
Kieran looked down and a wave of guilt rolled through Helen.
Anxious to move somewhere new, she’d jumped at a cheap property to rent, but it hadn’t been ideal for Kieran having to change to a school in a village where the kids all knew each other.
She knew he struggled being the “new boy”.
There weren’t many job prospects here, either, and now she wondered if she’d been too hasty.
But Kieran needed to fit in, so she went to the village shop the next day and registered him for the competition.
“It’s a tabletop tree,” the woman behind the counter told her. “We don’t need something for Trafalgar Square.
“The children have to assemble it themselves. They will have an hour.
“Is your child at the village school?” she asked.
“Yes,” Helen replied. “He’s just started.”
“Ah, the new boy,” the woman said.
Helen tried not to roll her eyes. Poor Kieran.
She paid two pounds and received a ticket.
“He’ll need to put that on his table,” the woman said. “The judging is anonymous, and there will be drinks and cake to raise money for the food bank.”
“Right.” Helen nodded. “By the way, do you have a notice board?”
“We tuck cards in the window. Gardeners, plumbers, things like that. Did you want something?�
