The manager was there to meet us, and led us down the back stairs to the ground floor of the shopping centre, where crowds of children were waiting.

  When they saw the robot, dressed in his Father Christmas outfit and looking every bit the part, they cheered!

  We set the robot up in the grotto, and Fizz brought the children in to meet him, one by one.

  A small part of me felt a little bit mean for tricking them. But then, when I saw their smiles, I knew we were doing the right thing. After all, why should these children, who had been so good all year, miss out on meeting Father Christmas, just because Ola and Max had it in for my dad?

  This afternoon’s visit, in Milan, was a little more tricky.

  The venue was a tiny bookshop in a back alley, with a sloping roof that was really hard to land on. And we also had a few problems with the robot.

  He was meeting a nine-year-old boy called Fabio, who wanted to be an opera singer when he grew up, and sang the high bit from ‘Nessun Dorma’ to prove it. He was hoping for a dinner jacket as his main present so that he could wear it when he sang along to his favourite operas at home.

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said the robot, just like he was supposed to. ‘Now let me give you a little something to be going on with.’

  Only, when he handed Fabio the present, the robot wouldn’t let go.

  ‘Can I have it?’ asked Fabio. ‘Please?’

  But the robot seemed to grip on even tighter.

  ‘Don’t forget to leave me a mince pie and a drink, and a carrot for the reindeer!’ said the robot cheerfully, and his head started to spin round really fast.

  Fabio’s father tried to help, and with a superhuman show of strength, pulled the present out of the robot’s hands. But the robot fell forwards and gripped his ankle instead, and Fabio’s father was soon rolling around in agony, beating the floor in pain.

  Luckily Fizz had the VR headset to hand, took control of the robot and powered him down. ‘He needs resetting,’ she whispered. ‘Best to switch him on and off at least once a day. Or he gets a bit glitchy.’

  ‘Is Father Christmas okay?’ asked Fabio’s father, staring back at the robot as I led it away from the grotto.

  ‘He’s a bit stressed,’ I confided. ‘With Christmas coming up.’

  ‘That’s some grip he’s got,’ said the father, hobbling slightly. ‘I guess that’s from climbing so many chimneys.’

  Apart from that one little hiccup, though, everything went smoothly.

  It was so amazing, seeing the happiness on all the children’s faces. I’m such a lucky girl to be able to do this! Maybe next year Dad will bring me with him.

  If we get him back, that is.

  Friday 7 December

  Phew! I’m exhausted.

  I never realised Dad went to so many events in the run up to Christmas! The schedule Steinar’s given us is packed really tight, and there’s barely time for toilet breaks, let alone a chance to explore the countries we visit. He keeps calling Fizz on her mobile to check up on us, too, to make sure we don’t miss anything – or anyone – out.

  This morning we visited two more shopping centres. One in Dayton, Ohio, in the US and the other in Ghent in Belgium. On the outside, the children may have looked a little bit different, but on the inside they were exactly same, each and every one of them bursting with excitement to meet Father Christmas. Or rather, a robot that looked just like Father Christmas.

  In the afternoon we visited a primary school in Nottingham in the UK, and after that we squeezed in a nursery in Kraków in Poland.

  That’s where I am now, in a hotel on the edge of the city, with the sleigh and reindeer parked on the roof.

  No news of Dad. I’m worried that another of my brothers and sisters has been caught, and the rest have asked for another day to save him.

  Saturday 8 December

  Still no news of Dad.

  Feeling quite tired so I’ll just give you the headlines:

  A shopping centre in Athens, Greece. An outdoor market in Paris, France. A creche in Niger City, Nigeria.

  Sunday 9 December

  No news.

  The American School in Marrakesh, Morocco. A farmer’s market in San Luis Obispo, in the US. A nursery in Madrid, Spain.

  Dad’s job is so hard!

  Tuesday 11 December

  Some kids somewhere. Then some other kids somewhere else. Still more kids, and more kids after that.

  Wednesday 12 December

  I AM SO TIRED.

  Thursday 13 December

  I HATE CHILDREN.

  Friday 14 December

  Woke up with a start. It’s been a week now and no news of Dad, and we’ve been all over the world. Of course I’ve got the robot to remind me of him, but it’s just not the same. In fact, the way he stands in the corner of my room at night, like a statue, never saying anything… It sort of makes me miss Dad more than if I was alone.

  I met Fizz and Tog by the breakfast buffet, and together we went up to the roof of the hotel to find the sleigh.

  When we got there, Steinar was waiting for us.

  ‘How did you get here?’ I asked.

  ‘Public transport,’ he said gravely. I could tell by the look on his face that whatever he had come to tell us, it wasn’t good news.

  ‘Who’s been captured this time?’ I asked.

  ‘Thistle.’

  Thistle is my sixth oldest sibling. Apparently he’d managed to get in and out of the castle several times without getting caught, but couldn’t find Dad. The last time anyone had seen him, he was going to check the dungeons.

  ‘So just Pocket, Snip, and Shard left?’

  Steinar nodded. ‘Obviously it’s harder to do the rescue with just the three of them,’ he said. ‘So they’ve asked for ten more days. They’re going to need to break into the castle a different way, which involves digging.’

  ‘What?’ I gasped. ‘That’ll take us right up to Christmas Eve! What if they still don’t manage it? We have to get Dad back by then or Christmas will be cancelled!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Holly,’ said Steinar. ‘We don’t have a lot of choice.’

  ‘But we do!’ I protested. ‘You could let me help with the rescue!’

  ‘How?’ asked Steinar. ‘You can’t even do this right.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked. ‘We’re doing a great job!’

  ‘There have been complaints,’ said Steinar.

  ‘What sort of complaints?’

  ‘Fathers attacked. Presents held on to.’

  ‘That was on the first day!’ I protested. ‘We had teething problems. But no one got hurt!’ Then I remembered Fabio’s father’s bruised ankle. ‘Apart from one person.’

  ‘Which is why I’m here today,’ said Steinar. ‘To make sure it doesn’t happen again.’

  I was so flustered that I forgot to give the robot a reset before we set off. Which proved to be a big mistake.

  Our first appearance of the day was at a retirement home in Reykjavík in Iceland. The grannies and grandads in the home had invited their grandchildren, and by the time we’d arrived, a large crowd had gathered in the TV lounge, all eager to meet Father Christmas.

  The first few visits went fine. Then a little girl called Björk got up to meet the robot.

  She was carrying a fizzy drink, and before we quite knew what was happening, the robot grabbed it and poured it all over his face!

  Sparks began to fly out of his chest!

  People started to scream as the robot ran around the retirement home, pushing over tables of cards, messing up jigsaw puzzles and chucking cosy-crime novels on the floor.

  ‘Fizz, help!’ I called. ‘Shut it down!’

  ‘I’m trying!’ bawled Fizz. ‘Nothing’s working!’

  Then the worst thing that could have possibly happened unfolded right before my eyes. Steinar tried to stop the robot!

  ‘Hold it right there!’ he bellowed, standing in the robot’s way.

  The robot toppled over, trapping Steinar underneath him.

  ‘Help!’ breathed Steinar. ‘It’s really heavy!’

  Tog began to pull Steinar out from under the robot, not realising that the robot had grabbed hold of Steinar’s trousers. Steinar slithered out, but his trousers stayed behind!

  Luckily, Fizz finally managed to take control of the robot and powered it down.

  ‘Cover me!’ bellowed Steinar, and we all shielded him while he struggled back into his clothes.

  Needless to say, he was not in a very good mood after that.

  ‘I’ll take charge from here, thank you very much,’ he said, holding out his hands.

  Fizz handed him the VR controls.

  ‘Why?’ I asked, looking at the robot. ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘Bin it,’ replied Steinar.

  ‘But who’s going to stand in for Dad?’

  ‘I am,’ said Steinar, fixing me with a stern look. ‘I’ve got the wrinkles for it, apparently. We’ve got a primary school near Paris to attend in…’ he glanced at his watch. ‘Just under forty-five minutes. So we need to get moving.’

  ‘Wait!’ I pleaded.

  Steinar raised his eyebrows expectantly.

  ‘It wasn’t the robot’s fault,’ I insisted. ‘I forgot to reset him. Tog, back me up.’

  But Tog looked at me and shrugged. ‘It would be pretty bad,’ he said awkwardly, glancing at the robot, ‘if it attacked a child. I mean, imagine.’

  I couldn’t believe Tog wasn’t taking my side!

  ‘I can fix him!’ I exclaimed. ‘I promise!’

  ‘It’s a nuisance,’ broke in Steinar, ‘and you’re doing nothing of the sort. It’s going in the bin, and you’re coming with us to Paris.’

  ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head.

  ‘No?’ repeated Steinar.

  ‘If he stays, I stay.’

  Steinar gave a little laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he said.

  And then I ran away.

  I was so upset I wasn’t really looking where I was going. I couldn’t believe that Tog hadn’t stood up for me! Or that Steinar was going to throw away my beloved robot. I ran out of the retirement home, past some houses, and into a wood where I could be alone with my thoughts.

  I heard Tog’s voice calling me, and Steinar’s, and Fizz’s too.

  But I was so cross I didn’t answer.

  After a little while I started to feel better, and went back. But the sleigh had gone! Instead, there was a note on official North Pole paper which read:

  Dear Holly,

  I am sorry that when I behaved perfectly reasonably, you overreacted and ran away. Please be advised that I have secured your room at the Meridian Inn Low-Cost Express for a week, and that we will collect you once we have completed the remaining dates of the tour.

  Yours in elfship,

  Steinar

  Saturday 15 December

  Can’t believe I’ve messed up so badly.

  Woke up late, and wandered around Reykjavík. All the Christmas lights are up in the old town, and you can see the excitement in everyone’s faces, knowing that Christmas is coming.

  Except I know it isn’t.

  Sunday 16 December

  Don’t feel like writing today, sorry.

  Monday 17 December

  Or today.

  Tuesday 18 December

  Bleagh.

  Wednesday 19 December

  Found myself staring in the window of a little toy shop on the edge of town called Octavia’s. There was a toy drone in the window, like the ones I made at the Workshop.

  Or used to make.

  Why did I ever think it was a good idea to make a Robot Father Christmas? I just don’t have the skills.

  Let’s face it, I only got the job as a Christmas Elf because my dad’s Father Christmas.

  Thursday 20 December

  Have decided that while I’m here, I might as well make myself useful. So this morning, I plucked up the courage to go into the toy shop I saw yesterday and ask for a job.

  The lady who runs it is called Octavia and she sits behind a very high counter. So when I first said hello, she didn’t see me.

  ‘Down here,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose you’re looking for an assistant?’

  ‘Goodness!’ exclaimed Octavia, peering over at me. ‘Are you over seventeen?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘By one hundred and thirty-eight and three-quarters.’

  Octavia’s eyes widened in surprise.

  ‘I see,’ she said uncertainly. ‘Do you know anything about toys?’

  ‘A lot,’ I said. ‘I used to be an elf in Father Christmas’s Workshop.’

  ‘How wonderful!’ exclaimed Octavia. ‘And you’ve bought a costume to match. That’s just the kind of initiative we look for at Octavia’s.’

  Of course it wasn’t a costume. I was wearing my real clothes. But I decided not to tell Octavia that, as I’ve heard a lot of humans get freaked out by elves.

  For the rest of the morning, Octavia trained me up as an assistant. She explained that before Christmas, lots of children visit toy shops, to try to decide what they’d like from Father Christmas. And that our job was to help them find the one special toy that would make the next year a truly exciting one.

  Friday 21 December

  I can’t wait to tell you what happened today!

  It all started at Octavia’s.

  It was a really busy morning, with lots of children coming in with their parents and carers to look at toys. I’d been demonstrating all sorts of wonderful things: crafting sets, pirate ships, electronic diaries, in fact almost every toy you can think of.

  Then a little red-haired girl in plaits asked to see one of the xylophones in the window.

  I fetched it for her, and showed her how to play ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’. She loved it, so I tapped out ‘Frère Jacques’. That went down well too, so I played ‘Autumn Leaves’ in the style of Oscar Peterson, the famous jazz musician. ‘So?’ I asked. ‘Do you think you might ask for one from Father Christmas?’

  She nodded. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’ she asked.

  I leaned forwards so she could whisper in my ear.

  ‘It’ll be my first.’

  ‘Christmas?’ I asked in surprise. I was always very confused about how old humans were, and thought the little girl in front of me must be very young.

  ‘No,’ said the girl. ‘I’m nine. So this Christmas is my ninth. But this would be my first ever present.’

  The surprise I felt must have shown on my face, because she didn’t wait for my reply.

  ‘I used to be on the Naughty List,’ she said, lowering her eyes. ‘But this year I’ve been good, for the first time ever.’

  My heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Wait…’ I said. ‘Is your name Taffeta?’

  She frowned. Then she nodded. ‘Taffeta Hound,’ she said in a small voice.

  I almost reeled over in shock. Could this quiet, gentle girl be the famous Naughty Lister who had once put her brother in the washing machine?

  ‘Wait…’ I said. ‘Is your name Taffeta?’

  ‘I’ve got quite a temper,’ she confessed, ‘when I get going. But this year I’ve tried really, really hard. The xylophone’s not for me – it’s for my younger brother, to say sorry for being mean to him all these years. He’s going to love it, I know he is.’

  I felt a lump rise in my throat, like I wanted to cough or sneeze, or maybe even cry. But I didn’t want to alarm Taffeta, so I hid my feelings as best I could.

  ‘Don’t worry, Taffeta,’ I said. ‘I’ll let you into a secret. I’m a Christmas Elf, and I’m going to make sure Father Christmas brings you what you want.’

  Taffeta beamed and handed me back the xylophone, then rejoined her family, giving her little brother a warm hug.

  As soon as she had gone, I asked to see Octavia in the stock room.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘for letting me see how children make their lists. But I have an important job to do.’

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ said Octavia wearily. ‘You’re going to work for some huge toy store. This always happens. One minute I train someone up, the next they’re selling out.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s nothing like that. I’m going to save Christmas.’

  Octavia frowned and studied me closely.

  ‘I don’t think you are a Christmas Elf,’ she said uncertainly. ‘But if you were…’ She looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening in. ‘I’d want to say thank you. For helping all of these children’s dreams come true.’

  Moments later, I was out on the street, running through the falling snow to the last place I had seen Robot Father Christmas: the retirement home. I had a hunch where Steinar might have left it, and sure enough, round the back by the kitchens, I saw a familiar-looking arm poking out of a wheelie bin.

  Somehow, even though it was heavier than a sack of roasting potatoes, I managed to heave the robot out. I sat it up against a wall while I looked for its costume, which I eventually found in a black plastic bag covered with old cabbage. Last of all I found the VR headset and remote control that Fizz had made, tangled up in some old Christmas tree lights!

  Soon I would have the help I needed to rescue Dad, and get Christmas back on track!

  I brushed the robot’s red velvet jacket down, powered it up, and the lights pinged on in its bright blue eyes.

  ‘Ho ho ho,’ the robot said. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Robot!’ I exclaimed, throwing my arms around its neck. ‘I missed you!’

  ‘I missed you,’ it repeated.

  I couldn’t believe my ears.

  ‘You can speak!’ I said.

  ‘You can speak!’ said the robot.

  ‘Or can you?’ I asked suspiciously. ‘Maybe you’re just repeating everything I say?’