Darren, a caveman, liked to spend a few days alone about every four weeks: he crept away on the days when, for some reason he couldn’t fathom, his little Mirabelle got very ratty with him.

He was getting a tad bored on the other side of the hill and decided to practise folding large leaves, twisting vines, and stitching. It was the sort of thing that wouldn’t be approved of at home.

He looked at what he’d created and he thought it was pretty nifty. He put it on his head and fastened it securely to his ears with the two loops of vines he’d stitched onto the sides. He looked at his reflection in a puddle of water and thought what a handsome chap he was.

He stared up at the sky and reckoned it would be safe to go home – Mirabelle must have calmed down by now.

He proudly entered the cave.

Mirabelle, who was still feeling a tad fractious, looked up and tore the headdress off Darren’s head.

“I see you’ve been wasting your time again. I had to deal with the kids on my own – they need milking by the way – I have no idea where the children are, and we’re out of firewood!”

She was holding the hat by the ear handles and swinging it backwards and forwards.

Her sister who’d been asleep in the corner wandered over.

“Nice handbag! “

Mirabelle looked down.

“Erm – of course it is! My Darren made it for me! Isn’t he clever? I was just going to make him his favourite supper” and then she leant over and gave him a kiss.

Luckily Darren didn’t have enough brain power to realise exactly how confused he was.

“Oh goody, I love leftovers!!”


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