THis great quiz will test you to become a true Gallagher Girl! Remember to rate this quiz on the next page!
Rating helps us to know which quizzes are good and which are bad. What is GotoQuiz? A better kind of quiz site: no pop-ups, no registration requirements, just high-quality quizzes that you can create and share on your social network. It was said that the Gallaghers were descended from shipwrecked survivors of the Armada, and that they had Spanish blood. Both Cat and Raoul were dark-haired and olive-skinned, with patrician noses and cheekbones like razor shells.
Her eyes were heavily rimmed with black kohl, but that was her only concession to cosmetics. I just need to know how to get into places. Cat drained her cup, then got up from the wall and stumbled sideways as her foot clipped the edge of a pothole and the earth crumbled beneath her boot. Look at the size of that pothole. Together they made their way along the path that led to the front door of the unoccupied house.
It was fashioned from solid oak, and had an impenetrable air. Your first challenge is to find out if a joint is wired for alarm. There are only so many times you can prevail upon your local neighbouring farmer to reset your alarm.
A lot of those boxes are dummies, by the way. The dates will tell you. Cat moved along the side of the house, and set her palms against a picture window, pressing her face close so that she could peer through. With the sun bouncing off the glass, it proved difficult, but she could make out an expanse of timber floor and walls painted in a bland shade of cappuccino.
A decade ago people were reckless when they bought their second homes. Cat turned and surveyed the quarter acre of garden. The grass was thigh-high, the flowerbeds thick with weeds. Dandelions were pushing their way up through the golden gravel that covered the path to the front door, and to judge by the wasp activity immediately overhead, a nest was being constructed in the eaves. These are generally the babies that have been languishing with no TLC. They made their way to the rear of the house, where the door to a utility room was located.
A look through a small window to the left of the door told Cat that there was access to the kitchen from there. Pulling a pair of latex gloves from her pocket, she slid them on. Take a closer look. Cat ran a finger over the edge of the window. It was beaded with varnished teak, in which plugs of matching hardwood were dotted at regular intervals.
Raoul reached into his backpack and handed her a narrow-bladed chisel. Inserting it into the fissure between the plug and the main body of the wood, Cat found purchase and prised out the fragment of teak.
Underneath was the slotted crosshead of a screw. Setting to, she methodically removed each knot of wood, then set down the chisel. The screws are too close to the glass. Cat smiled. Once she got to the final couple of screws, she held the window in place by leaning her shoulder against it.
Then she prised away the strip of wood, dropped the screwdriver, and went to lift the glass from its frame. Taking care not to let the glass fall, Cat slipped her hands into first the right, then the left glove, and turned back to her task. With great care, she leaned the pane against the exterior wall before setting her palms on the sill and hoisting herself up. Cat undid the laces on her boots, pulled them off and dropped them on the muddy ground below the window. Then she twisted around, slid her legs through the empty frame, and eeled herself into the house.
Both utility room and kitchen were equipped with state-of-the-art white goods. The kitchen floor was marble, the work surfaces polished granite.
The adjacent sitting room boasted a gas fire and a panelled alcove in which to house a plasma screen. Beyond the sitting room, beyond doorways that accessed study, den and conservatory, carpeted stairs led from the light-filled lobby to bedrooms and bathrooms above. She wondered what it must be like to live in a house like this. Would you live a life here, or a lifestyle? Would you curl your feet up on a suede upholstered sofa while aiming a remote at your entertainment suite?
Would you microwave a ready meal from a top end outlet while uncorking a chilled bottle of Sauvignon Blanc? Would you cuff an infant lovingly when he or she trotted mud onto your marble tiles before reaching for your eco-friendly floor wipes? It was dark and tumbledown with a cruck frame and exposed beams and a roof that slumped in the middle. Hugo had refused to compromise the character of his house by introducing twenty-first century fixtures and fittings: his fridge was clad in elm planks, he cooked when he could be bothered to on an ancient Rayburn.
There was no television, no broadband and no power shower. Back on the west coast, the teenage Cat, bereaved and isolated, had found it impossible to make friends. Her accent singled her out as being different — that and the fact that her eccentric father was now living with his third wife. Cat hated school. When she was expelled from boarding school, she mitched from the local secondary so often that Hugo made a pledge to the authorities to home-school his daughter. But Cat shrugged off his half-hearted attempts.
How could you have faith in a teacher who sloshed brandy into his morning coffee and smoked roll-ups while he recited Shakespeare and Seamus Heaney in maudlin tones? You gave him the finger, and went off in search of boats to sail, or cloudscapes to paint, or — the very activity she was presently engaged in — houses to break into.
How many houses like this might there be all over Ireland languishing unfinished, waiting for someone to occupy them? She reckoned she could have her pick of thousands. To the east, inland, ribbon developments straggled Dublin-ward along the sides of the roads.
To the south, the landscape was dotted with un occupied holiday homes. To the west, an expanse of ocean glittered diamantine. The cemetry was on the summit of a drowned drumlin, and Cat would occasionally take a boat out to spend a day on the island, talking to her mother, undisturbed by anyone since the island was uninhabited now. It was a desolate place, whipped by raging gales that came in from the ocean, but it had been a place that Paloma had loved like no other, and that was why Cat had insisted she be buried there. Sounds cheesy but I have no shame.
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Now I was saying good-bye to another one. Well…most of the truth. And it had set me free. It took me a moment to realize that the ghost…was me. And then I stepped back, and for probably the millionth time in my life, I ran away. When you were looking for me? And most of all, she is my sister. Cammie taught me to never give up.
Bex taught me to stand by my beliefs. Liz taught me I can be whatever I want. Macey taught me we are all different. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:.
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