Help! It’s Harriet!. Stephen Lee

in the tent, is the back-up.” (The back-up was a big plastic dustbin sack full of more exciting little packages.)

      “When you feel the tub is getting empty, just go and help yourself from the sack. It’s 25p a go, and whatever you do don’t let them churn things about and spill the bran. It makes a nasty mess on the grass,” said Miss Fanshawe. “You will have to be stern with them. They are to take the first thing that comes to hand.”

      “I’ll be stern,” said Harriet.

      “Don’t forget,” said Miss Fanshawe, “the extra presents are in the sack.

      Miss Fanshawe went off to her mother: Harriet took up her position behind the bran tub.

      “Lucky Dip!” bawled Harriet. “25p a go!”

      The lucky dip was every bit as popular as Miss Fanshawe had said, in spite of some of the bigger boys complaining when they picked girls’ things.

      (The girls didn’t seem to mind picking boys’ things.)

      One child tried to claim a free go, “Cos I picked this book and I’ve already read it,” but Harriet was standing no nonsense.

      She took her duties as guardian of the bran tub very seriously.

      “You can just go away and read it again,” she said.

      “Shan’t!” said the child. “You can have it back!”

      “Yeah, and you can have this doll back an’ all!” yelled a little boy.

      “And this bag!” cried another. “Bags is girls’ things!”

      Suddenly, it seemed that Harriet had a rebellion on her hands. She decided to go and get some more presents. Perhaps the next lot would be a bit better.

      Harriet ran into the tent, tore open the nearest black sack, seized an armful of prettily wrapped parcels and ran back with them to the bran tub, where a long queue had already formed.

      The second lot of presents, although rather eccentric, went down better than the first. Harriet watched as small hands ripped open packages and pulled out the contents. There were hair nets, sponge bags, bed jackets, teacosies, bath caps, paper knives, bed socks, bubble baths, bath cubes, magnifying glasses, paper handkerchiefs… If the parents seemed slightly puzzled, at least the children were happy. Harriet had no more complaints.

      By the end of the afternoon, both the bran tub and the black plastic sack were empty. The field, meanwhile, was full of joyous small children having battles with bath cubes, using hair nets as catapults, shredding paper handkerchiefs into confetti, enlarging startled insects with magnifying glasses, conducting mock sword fights with paper knives, squirting each other with scent sprays…

      Some of them were wearing tea cosies on their heads, some had bed jackets tied round their shoulders like capes. All were wildly happy. Never had a bran tub been such a success!

      By the time Miss Fanshawe came hurrying back, the field had mostly cleared. The bath cube battles had ceased, the tea-cosied warriors been carted off home. Flushed with the sense of a task well done, Harriet handed over the money pot.

      “Oh, that’s very good!” said Miss Fanshawe. “That is excellent! The Vicar will be delighted! I wonder, little girl, now that you’ve done such a magnificent job with the bran tub, whether you would care to do something else for me?”

      “Would I get another five pounds?” said Harriet. After all, it was for charity.

      “You drive a hard bargain,” said Miss Fanshawe, “but I’m desperate. Yes, all right, another five pounds! It’s very simple. All I want you to do is take the other sack…”

      “What other sack?” said Harriet.

      “The other sack in the tent – the one marked ‘Old People’. Just take it across to the big marquee and hand out the presents to my old ladies and gentlemen. I have to go and pick up some medicine for my mother, but I shall be back before you’ve finished. Do you think you could manage that?”

      “Yes,” said Harriet. She could manage anything.

      Miss Fanshawe went off to fetch her mother’s medicine leaving Harriet in charge of the Old People’s sack. Harriet’s heart swelled with pride. Supervisor of the presents! She bet Alison Leary hadn’t been trusted with anything half as responsible.

      Taking her second sack by the scruff of its neck, Harriet marched off across the field to the big marquee. Inside there were lots of old people sitting on chairs, awaiting the moment when they would be given their presents. Harriet heard one old man mutter, “I hope it’s better than last year. Bloomin’ awful they were, last year.”

      “These are really good