Jeff Brown - Stanley's Christmas Adventure

The elves had done their work.

At the Post Office, Mail Elves had read the letters, making lists of who wanted what.

In the great workshops – the Doll Room, the Toy Plant, the Game Mill – Gift Elves had filled the orders, taking care as to colour and size and style.

In the Wrap Shed the gifts lay ready, wrapped now in gay paper with holly and pine cones, sorted by country, by city or village, by road or lane or street.

The Wrap Elves teased her. ‘Don’t trust us, eh? . . . Snooping, we call this, Miss!’

‘Pooh!’ said the little girl. ‘Well done, elves! Good work!’

But at home in Snow City Square, all was not well.

‘Don’t slam the door, dear,’ said her mother, weeping. ‘Your father’s having his nap.’

‘Mother! What’s wrong?’

‘He won’t go this year, he says!’ the mother sobbed. ‘He’s been so cross lately, but I never –’

‘ Why ? Why won’t he go?’

‘They’ve lost faith, don’t care any more, he says! Surely not everyone , I said. Think of your favourite letter, the one by your desk! He just growled at me!’

‘Pooh!’ said the girl. ‘It’s not fair! Really! I mean, everything’s ready ! Why –’

‘Not now, dear,’ said the mother. ‘It’s been a dreadful day.’

In the little office at the back of the house, the girl studied the letter her mother had mentioned, framed with others on a wall:

The girl thought for a moment, and an idea came to her. ‘Hmmmm . . . Well, why not?’ she said.

She looked again at the letter.

The name LAMBCHOP was printed across the top, and an address. It was signed ‘Stanley, USA.’

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