Free The Reluctant Elf (Kindle Single) by Michele Gorman Page A

For that little stunt, you’re getting chicken for breakfast.’
    He sniffs at the dish and turns away. His disdain is absolute.
    Damn cat.
    As I’m putting the rest of his food packets away I see Aunt Kate’s spice cabinet. Which makes me wonder…
    Twenty minutes later, Rupert’s shoes smell deliciously of cloves, and faintly of shoe polish. He’ll waft Christmas cake with every step today. Happy Christmas, Rupert.
    I creep back upstairs to see if Mabel is awake.
    ‘Good morning, Mummy,’ she says when I open the door. She has her stocking clasped to her chest.
    ‘Happy Christmas, Mabel! I see Father Christmas was here.’
    ‘You didn’t wake up either when he came in?’
    Solemnly I shake my head. ‘I didn’t see him.’
    ‘I wonder how he always sneaks past us? He must be very quiet.’
    ‘Would you like to open your presents? Remember, the ones from me are at home, and I bet Father Christmas left the big presents there too, so that we don’t have to carry them back on the train.’
    ‘He’s very considerate. Is Danny awake yet?’
    ‘He doesn’t sleep here, honey. He has his own house, remember?’
    ‘But he could sleep here if he wanted to, right? That would be all right with you, wouldn’t it?’
    What is she asking? ‘You like Danny, don’t you?’
    ‘Oh he is a good egg. I like him very much… do you like him, Mummy?’
    ‘Of course I do. He’s a very nice man, and he’s helping us a lot, isn’t he?’
    ‘Oh Mummy.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘I don’t mean do you like him. I mean do you like him. Because he likes you.’
    ‘What makes you say that?’
    ‘Because he told me,’ she says as a small green parcel at the top of the stocking grabs her attention. ‘Should I open this one first?’
    I can’t pump my seven-year-old for information, much as I want to ask her exactly what Danny has said.
    We keep our squeals to a minimum as Mabel tears through her stocking. Since we’re not sure when the twins will get to open their gifts, we make a pact to keep her early morning bonanza a secret until later. Hopefully that’ll avoid a double tantrum if they’re made to wait until after lunch.
    ‘I’ll just go have a quick bath while everyone is still asleep, okay? Danny’ll be here soon.’
    ‘Okay, Mummy, I’ll go find Mingus. I think he might like to play with this.’
    Of all the gifts I’ve carefully chosen over the past six months, gifts I was really excited about, like the silver charm bracelet and wild animal stencil art box and LEGO Architecture Big Ben, it’s the pencil with googly eyes and blue feather hair that she loves most.
    Next year Father Christmas is shopping at Poundland.
    ‘Mingus should have a Christmas too,’ she continues, bouncing off the bed.
    Mingus should have a kick in the backside.
    I creep to the bathroom. Every extra minute that Rupert’s family stays behind closed doors is precious. I don’t know how Aunt Kate does this for a living.
    Flushing the loo, I go to wash my hands.
    That’s when I hear a rattling in the floor.
    Oh no. I forgot to wait the five minutes prescribed by Cook.
    Turning slowly, I see the grate over the drain in the middle of the tile floor begin to vibrate.
    Grrrrrrrrrrr, grrrrrrrrrrr, grrrrrrrrrrr… burp!
    The grate lifts at one end, releasing a big turd that shoots across the floor, skidding to a stop next to the claw foot of the tub.
    Not my turd, incidentally.
    Water starts bubbling up behind it, covering the floor with a selection of our guests’ leavings.
    Good god, that is disgusting, and I speak as a mother familiar with infant bowel movements. I’ll have to get Danny to bolt the drain to the floor to prevent any more faecal launches.
    Scooping the offending waste into the toilet, I mentally draft the polite wording to make little signs above each sink. I can only imagine Prunella’s reaction at having a poo launch itself at her from across the room.
    Danny is already in the kitchen when I come down after my