not as if people didn’t warn me. Frankie told me to be careful, Lily warned me off – even Dan himself admitted he was trouble, right from day one. I thought I knew better. I believed in Dan… that was my big mistake.

‘Anya! Wait! I can explain!’

He’s behind me, his feet slapping against the concrete as we reach the gate. He catches hold of my sleeve and I spin round to face him, furious.

‘It wasn’t the way it looked!’ he says, and I think of another night, in town with Dan, Ben, Nate and Kazia, when a man with dark skin and slanting cheekbones said exactly those words.

I didn’t believe them then, either.

‘Anya, please, it meant nothing…’

My breath comes in burning gasps, and my cheeks are streaked with tears. ‘It meant something to me,’ I tell him, and my hand flies out to drag a handful of white feathers from the angel wings. I want to hurt Dan, the way he’s hurt me. ‘Some angel you are. Leave me alone, Dan. You… you’re just like your dad!’

Dan’s eyes widen, and he opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. His eyes harden and his face shuts down, and he shrugs off the feathered wings and lets them fall to the ground. Then he turns and walks away from me, and I’m glad.

I never want to see him again.

It’s just past ten when I get back to the flat. Kazia, on the mend now, is sitting at the table with Mum and Dad, eating toast made from Tesco Value bread.

Mum looks up, alarmed. ‘Anya?’ she asks. ‘We didn’t expect you back for another hour. Is everything all right?’

I’ve wiped the tears away, tried to tidy my makeup, but when I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror on the wall, I can see I look windswept and weary and sad.

‘The music was rubbish,’ I tell them. ‘We left early.’

Well, Dan and I did, anyhow. We just didn’t leave together.

‘But it was your special night!’ Mum argues.

‘I know… I just wasn’t in the mood. Besides, it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. I wanted to be home.’

I sit down at the table, take a piece of toast. The bread is not as nice as the rye bread Mum makes, but it’s cheaper than buying the ingredients to bake it. I scrape a knife round the empty jam jar, then go to the cupboard to see if there’s any more. It’s almost empty. A jar of sauerkraut, an apple, half a bag of flour. No jam, no honey.

‘I’ll shop tomorrow,’ Mum promises. ‘We’ll still have our special meal tomorrow night. Traditional. We’ll make things as nice as we can, even though…’

She looks at Dad, and he looks at the tabletop guiltily.

‘I have to go into work in the morning, just for a little while,’ he says. ‘I have a few things to do, but don’t worry, this is the last time. Things will change now.’

‘So business is better?’ I ask.

Dad looks uncomfortable.

‘Tell them, Jozef,’ Mum says gently.

‘Not better,’ Dad says. ‘I’ve tried and tried, but ever since Yuri left things have been getting worse and worse. Problems, debts, complaints… I can’t make it work. My savings are gone… it’s time to stop. Tomorrow I’ll clear the office. The business is over.’

Kazia flings her arms round Dad. ‘Never mind, Tata!’ she says. ‘It’s almost Christmas Eve. Maybe Santa’ll bring you a new job? I asked him to fix everything up, and he said he’d see what he could do.’

I blink. So that’s what took Kazia so long at the grotto. She wasn’t asking for dolls and games and sweets, she was asking for a miracle. How do you explain to a seven-year-old that there are some things Santa just can’t fix?

Dad tries. ‘Kazia, I wish it could be that simple.’

I haven’t forgotten what Dad said would happen if the business failed. How could I?

Mum sighs. ‘It’s good news really, girls,’ she says brightly. ‘No more nasty flat, no more struggles with the language. Things just haven’t worked out for us here. We’re going home, back to Krakow.’

Kazia pulls away. ‘No!’ she says. ‘I like it here! I like school, and my friends, my teacher. I’m the best in my class at art, Miss Green says!’

‘Oh, Kazia,’ Dad says. ‘I’m sorry. We cannot stay. No jobs, and no money… not even enough for rent, for food. It’s all gone.’

‘Gran and Grandad are sending us money for air fares,’ Mum explains. ‘We’ll have the cheque by