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Lola was crying.
Mum was stood, arms folded, giving her the ‘I’m very disappointed in you’ look over the coffee table.
“It wasn’t me.” She sniffled. “It was Damien. Look!”
Lola pointed at the cheeky little elf, sat smugly atop a pile of chocolate wrappers almost as big as himself. A fleck of chocolate stuck to one of his cheeks like a beauty spot, and he listed to one side as though slightly sugar-drunk.
“Hmmm. Well, if you don’t eat your dinner later, I will be very cross.”
James frowned. His parents really needed to start talking to each other about what ‘pranks’ the elf was going to play each day. It was only the third day and already both he and Lola had been accused of things they simply hadn’t done.
He was pretty sure Lola hadn’t done it anyway, she was a terrible liar and would never have been smart enough to blame the elf. She’d have just eaten the chocolates and shoved the wrappers under her pillow or something. Or blamed him.