"She's only 12 and she's not even a virgin. That's just not right, is it?" With a pained expression Graham follows Emma's retreating figure as she deftly negotiates the office party crowds, off to a better spot to raise money from the suited passers-by.

Graham (17) interrupts his chant of "Spare any change" to explain about Emma: "She's been here since she was 10 and she's even tried heroin. When I came on the streets four months ago she was with this guy who was 22. It really got on my nerves so I ended up giving him a good hiding, and myself and my girlfriend, Michelle, have been looking after her since."

According to the Simon Community in Dublin, Graham is just one of 150 people currently sleeping rough in the capital, most of whom are desperately trying to get home for Christmas.

Women's refuges across the country expect next week to be one of the year's quietest as those at the receiving end of domestic violence brace themselves for the festive period, determined to provide their children with a "normal" family Christmas. In contrast St Stephen's Day and New Year's Eve are expected to be hectic as fragile partnerships cave in under the pressures of the season.

However, for the little band in Baggot Street all the frantic shopping and festive lights have not rekindled a desire to be reconciled with their families, and maybe they are right. Margaret O'Gorman of Focus Ireland says January is one of the organisation's busiest months, as the disillusioned flock back to the streets, having encountered the same family problems that forced them to leave home in the first place.

Graham, originally from Ballymun, says he left because his mother is an alcoholic. "She used to be all right, but then my brother died and she just hit the bottle. It wasn't like in Emma's house where her Ma used to drink and beat her up. She never hit me.

"The perfect Christmas would be myself, Michelle and Emma in a flat together. We could cook a big meal and we'd all be out of the cold."

This is not a realistic option, he says, because until he turns 18 he cannot rent accommodation, but he hopes to spent Christmas night in a B&B.

He reckons the threesome will follow their usual routine: getting up, raising a couple of pounds to get something to eat and then choosing their spots for the evening's begging.

"We've got to get £12 each for a B&B, and if we don't make enough money we just put Emma in. If we can't even get the £12 we all sleep together in a good spot we've found on the quays.

Under the Child Care Act of 1991 it is the responsibility of the State to ensure that those under 18 have a bed for the night.

However, Graham and his friends say they would prefer to sleep on the streets than in one of the city's night shelters.

"For the first two months I tried staying in the hostels, but it's worse than sleeping rough. In the Salvation Army you'd see rats and cockroaches running around, and my clothes kept getting nicked."

The strip of bars off Stephen's Green is a hive of activity as professionals surrender themselves to pre-Christmas drinking, but the feel-good factor emanating from the well-dressed evaporates on encountering Graham.

He is a stark reminder of everything the Celtic Tiger is running from, but he has worries of his own. Drawing deeply on a cigarette, he confesses he is scared.

"I've only been here a few months, but I've got so used to it. The whole time is taken up with just trying to stay warm, get money, get into B&Bs. You never get a chance to try and get out of it.

"There's a 58-year-old man begging across the road. He's been doing this all his life, and I don't want to end up like him."