‘And ho, ho, ho to you, too,’ she said as she walked away.

‘You could have handled that better,’ Lucy said without thinking. She was good at that. Saying the first thing that came into her head. According to her file-the one she wasn’t supposed to ever see-it had been her most usable asset. That and her passion. People would, apparently, “…instantly warm to her enthusiasm, her natural openness and lack of guile…”

They’d nailed that one.

It was saying the first thing that came into her head without thinking that had got her into this mess in the first place and now Frank was staring at her, clearly unused to criticism. Or maybe he was wondering where he’d seen her before.

‘So, what happened to the last elf?’ she said to distract him.

‘She asked too many questions and I fed her to a troll,’ he replied.

Sheesh…

‘Anything else you’d like to know?’

She pressed her lips together and shook her head.

‘Fast learner,’ he replied with satisfaction. ‘Keep it up and we’ll get on.’

‘Great.’ She couldn’t wait.

‘So, Louise Braithwaite, what can you do?’ Do?

Wasn’t standing about in a pointy hat and stripy tights enough?

Obviously not. Through a small window in his office, she could see an army of elves busily ‘constructing’ toys in Santa’s workshop. They were dressing teddies and dolls, test-driving remote-controlled cars and encouraging children to join in and help them while they waited their turn to see Santa.

Otherwise known, if you happened to have a cynical turn of mind-and she’d just had a crash course in cynicism from a world master-as try-before-you-buy.

‘Have you any experience?’

‘Of being an elf?’ Was he kidding? ‘No,’ she admitted quickly, ‘but I am used to working with children. They tend to throw up when they get over-excited. Just tell me where the bucket and mop are kept and I’ll cope.’