Hatch

The day we moved house, from the whitewashed backyard of Colne, to the new build of Freckleton, I had my fifth birthday. At the last school, teacher sat me on my lap, told everyone I was leaving. My friends were sad, and I knew that teacher was too. Miss Sanderson was not delighted to see me , did not welcome me to the new school. When i wrote my story, 'Where I was before I came here', she asked my mum to come to see her.

"Karen says you lived in Australia. That all her toys were sold. Very difficult for a child." When mum told her it was a little white lie, Miss Sanderson offered me the yellow plastic bat, or the red. I chose red, and she smacked me with the yellow. The new house had a clean grate, and a kitchen hatch that mum passed the Ribena through. When it splashed purple on the white walls, beaker slipping from my grasp, I knew it would mean a punishment. White paint was special, the new house was special. I was a bad girl.

To my surprise, no punishment . My dad took me to a park where the smooth green plank let me soar. I saw everything, the whole world. My brother had to be held on, but I didn't.

Back home the kitchen light was a tube. It flickered on and off, scaring me. Dad carried me upstairs, a bag of coal over his shoulder, and threw me on the bed.

The shadows from my pink lamp were birds and a dog barking. Dad promised me the dog for Christmas, I already knew his name. Paddy Paws the Puppy.