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“What have you two been doing in here?” said Janine from the doorway. “Oh, don’t tell me …” She looked at the Controller in Fred’s hands. “Video games. I knew it. You’re addicted! Completely addicted! I’ve had to miss nearly four minutes of Cash in the Attic searching for you.”

Fred and Ellie looked at each other, with deadpan expressions on their faces. They were much younger than their mother, obviously, but the irony of what she had just said was lost only on Janine Stone.

And it’s the Christmas celebrity edition! With Cheryl Baker! Isn’t it, Eric?”

“It is, Janine,” said Eric, appearing at his wife’s shoulder.

“Anyway,” said Janine, “tea’s ready.”

“Is it bacon sandwiches?” asked Eric.

“No, of course it isn’t. That’s a breakfast option. And besides it’s not your tea, it’s their tea.”

“Oh, OK.”

Both adults turned to leave. Fred looked to Ellie. Ellie looked to Fred. Together they shook their heads, amazed.

“Hang on a minute,” said Janine, suddenly coming back through the door with a suspicious look on her face. “Ellie!”

“Er … yes, Mum?”

“Look at me,” said Janine. Ellie gazed at her mum through her newly widened eyes. She tried not to look down at her new premium self.

“Ellie Stone, tell me the truth.”

“Yes, Mum.”

“Have you … fed Margaret Scratcher?”

Ellie frowned. Fred frowned.

“Er … no?” she said.

“I knew it!” said Janine. “You promised to feed her this afternoon and you’ve just been too lazy to do it! But I could tell you felt guilty about it. I could see it in your eyes!

“Can’t hide anything from you, Janine!” came Eric’s voice from outside.

“Tell me about it, Eric!” said Janine, triumphantly turning round and leaving the room.

Ellie and Fred exchanged glances. Then they both shrugged.

“Ellie,” said Fred. “I think – even though Mum and Dad didn’t notice that you’d … changed – I should probably change you back. To normal. For now. And then I can make you look like this again for the party!”

“OK,” said Ellie. “Good thinking. But … hold on.”

“What?” said Fred.

“You never did shoes.”

“I did.”

“I don’t mean the clowns’ shoes. I mean some proper shoes. To go with …” she gestured to herself, “all this.”

“OK. What sort?”

“High heels?”

“Really? Have you ever worn high heels?”

“No. Well, I tried on a pair of Mum’s once.”

“Oh yes. And you fell over.”

“Hmm. OK. I’ll leave it to you. You’re my stylist.”

Fred smiled, pleased with this idea. He pressed the silver button three times and thought of shoes: fairy-tale shoes. Ellie looked down. Her normal, ordinary trainers had vanished. On her feet, perfectly fitting, were two silver slippers glittering with light. She turned to her brother gratefully.

“Yes, Cinderellie!!” he said, with a smile. “You shall go to Rashid’s party!”