“How you didn’t shove that conical flask up his nose, I do not know.”

Grace smiled. An evil, happy smile. “It would have felt soooo good.”

“Moving on.” I got my notebook out. “Next thing on the agenda. Grampy G’s Grotto.” We had three weeks to pull it off, and it was fair to say plans had kind of stalled this week with everything going on.

“Honestly, if we didn’t have that to look forward to there would be zero Christmas cheer round mine.”

“Well, prepare to unleash FULL ON Christmas cheer. All the Christmassyness you’d normally have crammed into one single evening. And I will deal with everything so you don’t need to speak to you-know-who.”

We both really wished we hadn’t arranged to have Grampy G’s Grotto at Simon’s parents’ restaurant, but there was no way we were cancelling.

“Perfect.” Grace smiled. “So I’ll stick to … entertainment, right? And guest list, of course. I’ve got emails for most of my family. They can’t wait!” Last count we had about thirty people coming. “My dance friends have said they’ll help with the Nutcracker thing. And did I tell you I reckon I can wangle a karaoke machine from my teacher?” Grace waggled her eyebrows as I scribbled it all down.

“Great, although can we keep my parents away from it at all costs?” She nodded solemnly. “And I’m on decorations annnnd…” I looked at the list: “raffle prizes”.

“Ah,” Grace said, like she’d remembered something I didn’t want to hear. “About that. I’m not quite sure how it happened. But…”

“Buuut…?”

“I might have chatted to Holly Hospice about it last night.” Well, that sounded OK. “And I might have invited a few of Grampy G’s friends.” That was OK too. “And some of the staff.” OK, so the party was getting bigger. “And when I told them we were hoping to finally hit five hundred pounds for their Christmas party fund, they were so happy and started talking about how they would have to raise some more to decorate the social room so it was nicer, and basically, I think I accidentally might have maybe said that actually we were going to raise a thousand pounds and pay for that too.”

Right. Grace grimaced. “I’m sorryyyyyy. It’s been a bad week, OK?”

I didn’t want her to worry, even though the fundraiser had been stuck on £326 for months now.

“It’s OK. We’ve got this.”

I wasn’t really sure we had, but I’d just have to find a way to figure it out. I was sure they’d understand if we didn’t quite hit it.

“If it helps.” Grace rested her head on my shoulder. “The lady on the phone cried. In a happy way.” No, that didn’t exactly help. “And I really meant to say it was just a target, but then said we’d definitely, definitely do it.”

OK. Now I was panicking.

“You ready to order?” The waitress interrupted us. Grace gave me a guilty, yet strangely excited, smile and asked what the specials were. I went for a peppermint and pretzel marshmallow slice, but after she wrote it down she didn’t leave.

“Not being weird, but do I know you from somewhere?” she said, looking at me.

“I don’t think so,” I replied, smiling so she knew I didn’t mind her asking. “I did come here for my sister’s birthday though. You made her a horse made out of chocolate mousse. Highlight of her life.”

“Nah.” She shook her head. “I only started this week.” Uh-oh. “Do we follow each other on social or something?”

Considering I’d never posted a single photo, I was pretty confident the answer was no.

“Not me. Sorry.”

But at that exact moment “All I Want for Christmas” finished playing and “Love Your Elf!” started blaring through the speakers. Was Spotify trolling me?! I felt my face go bright red.

The waitress clicked her fingers. “Of course! Little Elf Girl! The cutest little elf!!” My heart actually stopped. No one had said that to me for five years! “It’s you, isn’t it?” The waitress looked super pleased with herself. “My mum did say she thought The Brussel Shouts were local.”

Oh, jingliest of balls. People knew about my family’s stupid band?! I tried to breathe. In… Out… In. But the whole place was spinning! Had Zaiynab and Matt heard?! Were my secret-Elf days over?!

“No no no nooooo,” Grace said, shaking her head very hard. “That’s definitely not Mo—” She stopped midway through my name.

“I’ve never” – deep breath – “even heard of that song?” Could everyone tell my voice had gone tight and high? “If it is a song. Is it a song?”

Dad’s voice crooned “You’re our tiny festive friend!” through the awkward silence. And this was exactly why I stayed indoors for the festive period.

Grace spluttered. “In fact, I’d heard the family who wrote it actually live in Scotland. Or Australia.”

“Okaaaay.” The waitress looked at Grace, then me, then Grace again. “Shame. I love that video. Was watching it last night. My favourite ever Christmas number one.”

“Number thirteen.” It popped out before I could stop myself. I shrugged. “At a guess…”

But after a very suspicious look, she finally left. I exhaled so hard, I basically deflated.

“Grace,” I whispered, clutching her arm, as I checked Zaiynab and Matt were none the wiser. “Tell me this isn’t happening. HOW did she know?”

“I dunno,” Grace whispered back. “But we have to keep calm. She’s only one person. And I think we threw her off the scent.” I was going to have to check YouTube later, wasn’t I? That stupid music video from years ago, with my stupid green face. If people had started to watch it again, I was in serious trouble. And the stupid song was still playing. How long did it go on for? Two hours?! It felt like five days already.

“Honestly, Grace. If anyone find outs my life will be over. You know what happened to Cliff? I mean, Daisy.” The name was stuck for life. “And to Noah when he knocked over that candle?” Grace nodded slowly. Poor Noah got his hand covered in wax and two years later he was still getting tagged in Madame Tussauds pictures. “You-know-who” – I jerked my head towards Zaiynab and Matt – “will never speak to me again.” I picked up a tiny, tiny marshmallow, but dropped it back in my drink, too sad to eat it. Double tragedy.

And now Dad was ringing. “One sec…” I gestured outside, relieved to have an excuse to avoid hearing child-me singing the last line. Maybe cold air might help calm me down. But Dad just wanted to know if I wanted to join them to do an interview in London. Which didn’t make me calm at all. It made me want to move to Lapland and live in an igloo far, far away from anyone. I put the phone down and bent over double.

Someone was yelling, “Whhhhyyyyyyyy!”

And that someone was me.

“You OK there?” Please no. Please don’t let that voice belong to who I thought it did. I stood up slowly.

“Just, you know…” I tried to look as normal as someone who had just been yelling to themselves in the freezing-cold night could. “…vocal warm-up stuff.”

“Cool.” Zaiynab nodded – she looked so cool in a black fake leather jacket. Did cool people not feel the cold? And I was wearing a penguin jumper. I WAS WEARING A PENGUIN JUMPER! I folded my arms tight in front of me. “Kind of neat we ran into you. We wanted to let you know that sadly for you we’ve narrowed it down to a final two.” Ouch. My stomach sank. Had I even come close? “Just a final stage left. Getting one more set of lyrics in.”

I tried to nod and look neutral, and not like I was having the worst three minutes of my life.

“We’ve already got the track.” Matt sighed. “But we’re struggling for lyrics that feel right.”

“Well, I hope you find someone good.” It was hard to look that enthusiastic when my dreams had just been crushed, and I didn’t have a coat and had lost feeling in three out of four of my limbs.

Zaiynab’s eyebrows lowered. “What? Are you out then?”

“Out?”

“Yup. You’re one of the final two.” My mouth fell open! I was still in the running! They liked my stuff! “I only said sadly cos it meant more work for you…”

“Whoa. I mean … what?!” I might be in The POWR?! “I mean, I’m in. SO IN!”

“Great, we’ll DM you the track…”