I might have messed up things with Grace, and with Ru, but I didn’t have to mess up Grampy G’s Grotto. If Elijah wanted a music video, and Tim wanted a big final idea, they could have one. Bigger and better than they’d imagined. And once the cameras stopped rolling, I’d sorted the sets and all the lights staying on for the evening so me and my family could throw the best party Grampy G could ever have imagined. The ultimate Christmas street party. The ultimate Grampy G’s Grotto.

We had everything. Snow machines, the igloos, the archways, the trails of baubles, the mechanical robins, all of it. The only thing missing was the giant sleigh pulled by reindeers, but Elijah said London to Bromster was a long way for them to travel when they had the entire globe to do on Christmas Eve next week.

I crossed my fingers. Please let this look good. It was a simple video, The Brussel Shouts performing, a crowd cheering along, lots of hand-held-style filming, Christmas stuff in every direction. I wanted it to be good for SO many reasons, but mainly because Tim and Elijah had agreed that every single stream would raise a tiny bit of money for Grampy G’s Grotto fund.

It was so surreal seeing it all here. The night before last I’d sent out an urgent email to all the people who had originally said they were coming to Grampy G’s party, telling them it was still on, but that there had been a top secret special change of plan. I hoped at least a few turned up. I’d asked everyone to get here for half five, just in time to record the performance and big crowd scene and then stay for the party to celebrate Grampy G. I’d promised Elijah I could sort a crowd if he sorted everything else, so had invited loads of randoms too – my netball team, people in my year, anyone I could think of, and my family had done the same. I’d even asked Zaiynab and Matt. And Mia, the waitress who had recognized me in the cafe.

But there was really only one person I cared about turning up. Grace. My stomach cramped thinking about her. Grace, who still wasn’t speaking to me.

Please let her come. Please let her like this.

My eyes moved to the giant poster outside the village shop that I’d helped the art department make to cover up their real signs. A vintage poster of Grampy G as Father Christmas with Grace when she was a little girl, sitting on his lap. I smiled at him. I really hoped this elf was doing OK.

“We’ll be on camera in two hours…” Elijah flicked through some papers on his clipboard. “Midday prompt we start rehearsals. Then shoot street and details. Crowd arrive at five thirty p.m. Filming performance at six thirty p.m. Not a lot of time for takes, but rough and ready is the perfect vibe.” He peered over at our house. “Very suitable for The Brussel Shouts.”

He looked at me – and smiled.

Things with Elijah had changed since we’d had that chat. The last few days he’d worked round the clock to help me pull this off, constantly checking in that I was OK – and as grumpy as he liked to pretend to be, I could see his relief it was working out. He’d even tried to help me smooth things over with Ru.

But when I’d messaged him saying sorry and asking to chat, all I’d got back was, “Sure. When things are less busy.” And we both knew with him, things were never less busy. I couldn’t really blame him.

“Joseph and Maeve would have adored this.” Jack came and stood where Elijah had just left. “Shame they’re on a plane to Lapland.”

It really was. I’d had my chance with Ru. And I’d blown it.

“And one last time…” Jack put his arm around me. All morning he’d been hanging out with Billy, making my mum look super glam (for her tiny bit of face peeping out between the turkey legs), blow-drying Tess’s hair and being an absolute hero. “Is there any way I can talk you into making an appearance?” He squeezed my shoulders. “I left a full costume in your room. Because, who knows, in ten years’ time you might regret being the only one of your family who’s missed out?”

I doubted it. The only thing I’d regretted about the original one was being in it.

“Oh! Little Elf! Little Elf!”

The first line of the song blared out of the speakers so loudly I jumped in the air.

“Positions!” the director yelled. Harry was such a legend for talking his mum into doing this for free, although it was gutting he couldn’t come with her. “Ready for rehearsal, please…”

I looked over at the stage. It stretched right across the road from the end of our garden to the pavement opposite. It was glittery and green and looked like a giant cracker had landed in Bromster. There were lights whizzing about all over it and in the middle of it was Billy, trotting around in a reindeer suit, Mum, pinching the bum of a giant parsnip (may potentially need therapy for that image), and Tess looking like a movie star in a sequinned red-and-green dress, working a mega pout. And behind them all, on our front lawn, was Cara, all lit up. Yup, my family were all absolutely bonkers. But they were my bonkers.

And despite everything that had happened, I felt something bubbling up.

Something that felt like excitement. But also, home.

The same feeling I’d got with Grace, Dad and Mr W on the train to Edinburgh.

And singing in Cara with Mum and Billy.

And making silly socks with Tess.

Was this what Christmas magic felt like?

I looked at my family onstage. And smiled.

Forget all the flashy events. This year, despite everything, my Christmas spirit had finally come back, and it was all thanks to these guys, to Grace.

And right then, I made up my mind.

It was time to stop watching and go inside.

Thirty minutes later Jack and I walked back out the front door. Billy spotted me first, running over and throwing her arms around me. Mum, Dad and Tess were still onstage rehearsing. I walked up the steps towards them, Bil clinging on to my leg like a koala bear. As I got to the top step she screamed, “LOOOK!!!!”

All three of them stopped dead and gawped. At me. Their middle daughter, head to toe bright green, wearing a stripy dress with jagged pointy red collar and cuffs, big gold buttons down the front, red-and-white stripy socks that came up to my knees and the longest, pointiest green hat with a bell on. I’d even brought my bass guitar out in public for the first time ever.

For a second no one said anything.

But then, in unison, Mum and Dad both ran (well, waddled as quickly as a parsnip and turkey could) and bundled me into a big hug.

“Molly Natasha Bell!” Mum squeezed me so hard one of her drumsticks bashed me on the head. “I have never been more proud of you.”

Good to know all my studying, my design, all my sports stuff, my kitchen creations, paled into insignificance over dressing as an elf.

Dad rubbed my cheek (although stopped when he realized he was making his hand green). “You, my darling, are the best elf in … all the land…’ Uh-oh. Was his voice cracking? “You always were. And…” sniff, “look at you now.” He gulped. “I’m sorry, Ange. Can you … hold the fort?” He sniffed, his eyes welling up. “I think this is a Christmas present that has tugged a little too hard at this parsnip’s heartstrings.”

And he ran offstage, to where Jack was already holding out a tissue.

“SNOW MACHINE READY!” Harry’s mum yelled. OK. This was happening. “SLATES.”

A woman shouted, “‘Love Your Elf!’ music video. Rehearsal one,” and snapped a clapperboard shut. This was just like the movies!

Except…

There was my house. And my still bleary-eyed dad. And Mum and Tess standing back-to-back ready to shimmy. And my furry reindeer little sister clutching Sosig’s sleigh bed, with him sitting on it like a throne despite, being dressed as a carrot.

Was I having an “overdone it on the Quality Street” dream?! Or had Hollywood really come to Bromster, with me and my family at the centre of it all?!

WHAT HAD I DONE?

“And … ACTION!”

The song started. My family began jumping about. They looked totally ridiculous!

And I … bounced right over and jumped along with them, pretending to play my bass. Our neighbours were clapping in time, loving it.

It wasn’t exactly playing onstage with The POWR, but weirdly, it felt great.

And after a few more run-throughs, it was time to break for an early dinner.

“Back here for half five, then we’ll bring on the normals!” Elijah yelled, when we finished.

Lucky my microphone didn’t pick up my whimper.