'Crumbs,' Flicka said as soon as I opened the door. 'Is that the baby?' She stood back, aghast. 'What've you done to her?'
Katie thought looking after her sister's baby would be easy. But one tin of golden syrup, some scrambled egg, newspaper print, a hold load of boot polish, an earwig, half a caterpillar and a dirty log later, things look very different indeed. Baby Emily is not the only one in a bit of a mess . . .
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