Megan and the Pantomime Thief
We went into Mrs Lindsay’s back porch. It’s very neat and tidy, not like ours. The statue was sitting on a shelf. It was about half a
metre high, carved from wood. It was just a face, with shoulders and a half a body but no arms. Not a very nice face; I could see why Mrs
Lindsay thought it was sinister, a kind of squashed nose and half closed eyes. It looked kind of goblin-y. I picked it up and looked carefully
at it. It seemed to be looking back at me through its scrunched-up eyes as if to say ‘Go on, then! Guess who put me here.’
I turned it over and looked underneath.
‘There’s sort of writing on it,’ I said.
