Lucy knew she was in trouble the second the saw the mess on the floor.

"It's so unfair!" she protested. "I didn't even do anything."

Yes, her mother had told her that she was never, never ever, to touch the beautiful glass windmill on the mantelpiece.

"It was my mother's, sweetheart, and her mother's before that. It is very precious to us as a family. We will just leave it there and never touch it. Never! Promise me that!" mother had explained to her patiently, and little Lucy had understood.

And yet, the delicate, colourful family heirloom was lying on the floor now, reduced to a pile of rainbow rubble. Lucy couldn't wrap her head around it. All she knew was that she was in a world of hurt, although she didn't break the thing. She knew that for sure. But the adults would naturally assume that it was her. When it came to three-year-olds, a fair trial was further away than the man on the moon.

Lucy sighed and started to weigh her options. Before she had a chance to come up with an operational action plan, she heard footsteps. Her eyes began to water.

The living room door opened, and her mother came into view. Lucy usually loved to see her mum. She was her favourite person in the whole world. Daddy was also pretty awesome, but Mummy – she was something else. Mummy's cuddles were the best, and she made the best apple pie.

But right now, Lucy wasn't too excited to see her mother. As expected, it didn't take Mum long to spot the mess on the floor and to zero in on Lucy, her face expressionless.

That was not a good sign, Lucy thought. Mummy had only ever looked like that once before, when Lucy had taken the black felt tip pen Daddy had left on his desk and tried it out on the boring white new wallpaper in the hall. She had drawn a cute little pony right next to the front door, just the like one she had drawn on a piece of paper for Mum, which Mum had loved so much. Lucy still didn't get why this new horse hadn't pleased her mother in the same way. Instead of the glowing praise Lucy had expected, her mother had rewarded her with this blank stare right before she had hit the roof like an Olympic trampolinist, from which she segued into a dam with the floodgates open.

This time was no different.

"Who did this?" There was the dreaded question! Closely followed by a heartwrenching sob.

"It wasn't me!" Lucy whispered.

"Don't lie to me as well, Lucy!" Lucy heard the disbelief in her mother's voice through the tears and was outraged.

"I did not break it!" Lucy stamped her feet on the floor. "I touched it. I admit that. I was so careful. And when I dropped it, it was still all in one piece. It was perfect all the way down to the floor. There it broke all on its own. Honestly, I swear!"