It was always the same. She was the first one to be lost and the last to be found every single time. The children were careless with all of the dolls, but because she was the tiniest they often didn’t notice she wasn’t there anymore. Like today. There she was squashed up against the leg of the grand piano. She could see her bigger sisters all lined up in size order. They had more detail on their dresses. At least, though, her simple dress was red. Other Russian dolls she knew had to make do with pale yellows and insipid blues. Red was exciting and vibrant and even a little bit dangerous.
‘Where’s Natascha?’ cried Alfred, the youngest of the Allerton siblings. 4
‘Missing again.’ Mrs Puddleton sighed. ‘I expect Jenkins will find her when she uses the new vacuum cleaner tomorrow.’
Natascha shuddered. She hated the old machine. She’d been sucked up into it twice before and Mr Tibbs, the grumpy handyman, had had to take it to pieces to rescue her.
About the author
Gill James is published by The Red Telephone, Butterfly and Chapeltown.
She edits CafeLit and writes for the online community news magazine: Talking About My Generation.
She teaches Creative Writing and has an MA in Writing for Children and PhD in Creative and Critical Writing.
http://www.gilljameswriter.com
https://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B001KMQRKE
https://www.facebook.com/gilljameswriter
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