Could I really not go? I’d only just promised myself I’d commit to all things Christmas for Grace, just like Grampy G had asked, and they didn’t come much more festive than this.
“Sounds great,” I lied. “But, is the red-carpet thing up for discussion?”
If I could just swerve that, this could be OK.
“Excellent question, Molly-Moo.” Dad ruffled my hair, leaving a chunk dangling right across my eyes. “Because no one’s asked us the golden question… Why.”
Whatever the answer was, Mum couldn’t hold it in any longer. It actually exploded out of her.
“THEY’VE ONLY GONE AND PICKED ‘LOVE YOUR ELF!’ AS THE TITLE TRACK FOR THE FILM!” My breath caught in my throat. Was the room spinning? Was I going to be sick? “Looks like us Bells are going to be famous all over again!”
CHAPTER
3
TO DO:
•Finish invites
•Pack hoodie (black)
•Pack jeans (black)
•Make deal with Tess (bribe with cake???)
•Survive and pretend this never happened
“Names, please!” a man in a sharp suit, wearing a headset and clutching a clipboard like it was a shield, barked at the group in front of us. My worst nightmare was happening.
Mum and Dad hadn’t bought a single one of my excuses to avoid the red carpet, not even that I’d “forgotten” to pack my dress, and so here I was. In black jeans, black polo neck and DMs. The invite had said “black tie” not “art thief” and my plan was to pull my hoodie up and power walk so fast I made it into the cinema without a single picture or video being taken that could make its way back home. If worse came to worst, my hope was that any photographers would assume I worked here and ignore me totally. I’d had to bribe Tess hard – agreeing to never ask for her room in return for her not posting anything on social that could even give away that we were here. But sharing with Billy till I went to uni was worth no one finding out about Elf Girl. About my family.
“Oh my actual days.” Grace grabbed my arm as another huge cheer went up from the crowds packed against the barriers along the red-and-white-striped carpet. Grace legit looked like a goddess in her shimmering gold dress and statement orange lipstick. She’d even got tiny snowflakes pinned into her braided bun, and they were sparkling against her black hair.
“Is that …” Grace squeaked. Again. She’d been squeaking at two-second intervals ever since we arrived. At least she was loving this. “… Stormy?”
The woman so famous she didn’t need a second name? I peered through the crowd and glimpsed a mass of cherry-red curls, with a light-up candy-cane hat perched on top. Definitely her. Stormy was pulling a diamanté lead with a tiny fluffy white dog on the end. No … three dogs … no, ten? HOW MANY DOGS DID THIS WOMAN NEED TO GO TO THE CINEMA?!
“Hello-ho-ho-ho!” A man dressed as a nutcracker whizzed over on a hoverboard in the shape of a present. “You guys look like you might be interested in some of these…” He pinged open a stocking-shaped case, and in it was … what looked like an entire branch of Claire’s Accessories: Christmas Edition. “Pick what you want and I’ll take a photo for the big screen.” He glanced up at the giant screen on top of the cinema building, scrolling through pictures of smiling faces.
“I think I’ve died and gone to Christmas heaven,” Grace said, taking a necklace made of tiny Christmas lights. “Mol…?”
But I was already bent down, pretending to do up my lace. “Let me know when he’s gone,” I hissed. I had to avoid all photos at all costs.
As Grace and Billy posed, I scurried away, risking my first proper look around Leicester Square. I’d spent the last hour staring at my feet, as if avoiding the posters, the signs, might make this all less real. But it was definitely real. Leicester Square was bigger than it looked on TV and it’d had a full Sleigh Another Day makeover. Arches made of candy canes and fir cones, a winter-animal merry-go-round and see-through igloos serving free hot chocolate and cookies. There was even fake snow (not made out of carrier bags), a sleigh pulled by reindeer (the one with big antlers looked suspiciously like the one who bit me) and halfway down the red carpet was a two-storey edible gingerbread house, big enough to walk into. With my back firmly turned to the photographer, I shuffled next to Dad.
“And to check again …” I whisper-hissed over the cheering. I didn’t want Grace to know quite how much I was hating every second. “… I can’t just meet you inside.”
I’d scanned for any other route in, but unless I climbed on the roof of the gingerbread house and leapt into the upstairs window, which didn’t exactly feel more discreet, I couldn’t see an alternative. Dad put his arm round me.
“C’mon, Mols. What do you really think’s going to happen?”
I do something so totally embarrassing on the red carpet I become a meme by the time I’ve reached the cinema and the world realizes I’m Elf Girl from that stupid song and everyone back home never lets me forget it and The POWR never speak to me again as they were looking for a cool new band member, not an embarrassing elf, and I have to take a one-way trip to space.
I went with “I dunno” instead.
Dad squeezed my shoulder. “Remember what Dilys says.” She was the world’s oldest skydiver and Dad was obsessed with her. “Feel the fear and do it anyway!” He paused. “And also, no. There’s only one way in.”
“Well, you remember what I said.” As we edged nearer the front of the queue, I felt more and more sick with panic. “I’m heading straight inside. No photos, no posing, no…” I looked at all the cameras flashing, and the TV crews, and shuddered. “No anything.”
Dad nodded. “Not as catchy at Dilys, but sure.”
At least Mum and Dad were pretending to be normal for the day, wearing matching dark green velvet suits. (Mr W had said the four-armed four-legged onesie for two people they’d ordered might “be impractical for cinema seating”. Yet another reason I was grateful for Grace in my life.) We shuffled nearer to the start of the red-and-white carpet, and I zipped up my black hoodie. Grace knew exactly what I was doing.
“Don’t worry, Mol. We’ve got this.” I smiled as best I could, even though all I’d actually got was stomach cramps and hands that were both freezing and sweating. “It might be better than you think? Maeve in the flesh. Free popcorn.” She nudged me. “Free bottomless popcorn. Breathing the actual scent of Joseph D Chambers.” She looked at me seriously. “The ONLY man for me other than Simon. Which reminds me…” She held out her phone for me to take a photo of her with Stormy in the background. Simon must have had at least twenty photos already, but Grace didn’t want to lie to him about being here, and she didn’t want to give away my secret either, so had come up with a cunning plan to sort-of-truth and tell him we were in London for the weekend and had swung by to see the premiere, like other tourists.
“Photos are key.” She threw up a peace sign. “It’s all about doubling-down. Details to make it believable.”
I clicked, then felt a tug at my sleeve. “Do I feel sick because I can see real reindeers and they’re the best,” Billy said, without taking a breath. “Or because I’ve eaten three packets of these?” She held up a squashed packet of mini veggie sausage rolls shaped like mittens. “Maybe four.”
Bil put another one in her mouth and chewed, really pondering it.
“Probably the reindeer. But maybe stop eating those just in case. You still need room for pick ’n’ mix, right?”
“I love pick ’n’ mix!” Billy grinned, and she stuffed the rest of the pack into my pocket. She looked so cute in her “I Heart Christmas” sparkly red jumpsuit that she’d made me customize by adding furry red letters, so it also said “and horses”. Yup, everyone was looking their most glamorous selves, and I was just a mime artist/glorified pastry carrier.
“Be still my beating heart…” Tess grabbed my arm. “Is that who I think it is?” Even at six foot in heels, my sister had to crane to see the big blacked-out car which had just pulled up. But the biggest roar yet from the crowd confirmed it, as did the swoosh of perfect bright auburn hair.
“Maeve. Actual. Murphy,” Grace whispered, flashes exploding in every direction. “Maeve. ACTUAL. MURPHY!!”
