Hey Baby! (7 page)

I know it’s really wimpy, but I’m not wild about touching people with sick on them. “Fliss?” I said hopefully.

“Ask Kenny,” said Fliss. “I did the nappy.”

“No way,” growled Kenny.

“Lyndz?”

Lyndz shook her head. “Uh-uh.”

Things weren’t looking too bright. Then who do you think came dashing downstairs, all pretty and glowing from her shower?

You’ve got to hand it to Tiffany Cartwright. Give her a real crisis – sisters fainting in the supermarket, or unexpectedly finding her favourite pop singer covered in baby sick – and she’s a total star.

She didn’t let herself down by staring at Juice adoringly. She didn’t squeak or squeal. She didn’t even, like,
glance
in the mirror to check her hair looked OK.

There was just a split second when she froze halfway down the stairs. But it was just a
weensy
split second. And we were the only ones who noticed.

Tiff whisked Morgan out of Juice’s arms. “Perhaps you’d like to use our bathroom to freshen up, Juice,” she said, as if she talked to pop stars every day. “Upstairs, second on the left. Towels in the airing cupboard.”

“Thanks,” said Juice bravely. His bodyguards bounded after him. I think they were quite scared of Tiff.

“I’ll see myself out, girls,” said the photographer.

Then came the moment we were dreading.

“As for you,” Tiff said, giving us the evil eye as she carefully peeled Morgan’s sleepsuit off, “you’ve got some serious explaining to do.”

Luckily, the baby went into a major screaming fit. Tiffany paced the room, patting Morgan’s back, looking stressed out. Like she was the one who’d been babysitting all night!!

Juice and his bodyguards thundered back downstairs. Poor Juice. His clothes were ruined.

“Later, girls, yeah?” he said, climbing into his awesome car, and they zoomed away down Rosie’s street.

Tiff took Morgan upstairs and for a few minutes the baby’s howls were muffled by the sound of running water.

“It’s not fair,” said Rosie miserably. “Why did Morgan have to throw up? Juice will never send Tiff those CDs now. I’m in so-o much trouble. Tiff’s mad NOW, and she doesn’t know about her dress yet.”

“Or about Spud’s cake,” Lyndz pointed out.

“Thanks for reminding us,” said Kenny.

The door bell went again. It really was Spud this time. But before he could get in the door, Tiff came downstairs, out of breath and sopping wet, with a screaming baby under her arm. You’d think she’d been on the giant flume at Alton Towers, not bathing some little kid!

One problem with Spud is he’s not big on timing. “Hiya Tiff,” he beamed. “Where’s my cake? I’m starving.”

“Not now, Spud,” said Tiff fiercely. “I’ve got my hands full!” And she shut the door in his face. After all we’d gone through for her! We were in total shock!!

Tiffany dressed Morgan in her clean sleepsuit. I think Morgan knew Tiff was in a bad mood. She threw herself around, bellowing at the top of her lungs.

“What a nightmare,” groaned Tiff. “The Quormbys will be back soon. I thought Morgan was supposed to sleep through the night.”

I held out my arms. “Shall I take her?” I said.

Looking a bit doubtful, Tiff handed Morgan over. And guess what! Morgan snuggled up like a kitten and fell fast asleep. Don’t tell the others, but I think I’m a totally magic babysitter, don’t you?

But Tiff was looking panicky. “Quick, put her in her cot. Someone’s coming.” She was practically wetting herself! But the footsteps went on past.

I tucked Morgan into her cot. “Night night,” I said. “Mind the bugs don’t bite.” We tiptoed out.

“Have you girls any idea what Morgan’s been eating?” said Tiff. “Some of those stains looked just like chocolate.”

We all stared at the floor. But instead of having a go at us, Tiff said, “You girls had better go to bed before Mum gets back. I’ll tidy up down here.”

“Heh heh heh! We’re off the hook, my hearties,” hissed Kenny. We charged upstairs. Almost made it too.

Then Tiff called, “Rosie, what was Juice doing here?”

“Uh-oh,” whispered Lyndz.

“Oh,” said Rosie. She gulped. “That was just a mistake.”

“A famous pop singer came to our house, by mistake?”

“We sort of won him. In a radio phone-in,” said poor Rosie. “We were trying to win the CDs. For you.”

“Why?” said Tiff suspiciously.

It’s weird. Rosie Cartwright can hold out on her friends for hours. But when it comes to her family, Rosie’s what my gran calls “an open book”. Rosie took a really big breath. Uh-oh, I thought.

“If you want to know, we ate most of Spud’s cake,” she yelled. “I was mad with you for making us do your babysitting, OK!”

Then Rosie marched into her room. We went in after her. But we didn’t know what to say, so we started getting ready for bed.

A few minutes later, we heard footsteps coming up the path. A key turned in the lock.

“No, she was a little angel,” we heard Tiff say brightly. “But she dribbled some of her milk on her sleepsuit, so I put it in the wash.” Then we couldn’t hear any more.

“Oooh, liar liar! Tiffany’s pants are on fire,” giggled Lyndz.

“Sssh. Rosie’s mum will be up in a minute,” I hissed.

We scrambled into our night things. I don’t know if you remember, but Rosie’s the only girl in the Sleepover Club who’s got her own double bed. Cool or what! The first time we slept over, we all piled in, but it was too much of a squash! Now we toss for it, to see who sleeps on the floor. It was Kenny and Lyndz. Yippee!

We dived into our sleeping bags, seconds before Rosie’s mum opened the door. “Having fun, everyone?” she asked.

“Yes!” we chorused. She put out the light and closed the door. We heard her go back downstairs. This is our favourite sleepover moment, when we switch on our torches and have our feast. Well, four of us switched our torches on. But Rosie stayed where she was with the covers over her head. She’d been really quiet since she yelled at Tiff. Then the bed started shaking with sobs. I patted her shoulder.

“Don’t cry, Rosie,” I said.

Rosie rolled over and switched on her torch. “I’m not, you moron. I’m laughing!”

I felt such an idiot!

“Just wait,” Rosie shrieked, “till we tell the M&Ms that Juice came to our sleepover!”

Kenny cracked up. “They’ll chew the carpet!”

“Froth at the mouth,” spluttered Fliss.

“Spit nails,” I giggled.

Lyndz hugged herself. “They’ll NEVER forgive us.”

“They’ll NEVER believe us either,” I pointed out.

“Who cares! It’s definitely one – nil to the Sleepover Club,” Lyndz said.

Kenny punched the air. “One-nil! More like FIVE!”

“Sssh! I’m writing in my diary,” said Fliss. She scribbled away, while we finished up the bubble stuff in the sword. Bubbles look incredibly spooky by torchlight.

“Want to hear?” Fliss said at last. She started reading aloud. “It’s been the most hectic sleepover ever. We had to babysit for a cool baby called Morgan. My best thing was when Juice came to Rosie’s house and sang
Forever Love
. My worst was when Rosie sat in my plate and got chocolate on Tiff’s dress.”

Then Fliss looked up and gave a little gasp.

Tiffany had come in very softly, so no one noticed. She didn’t yell at us though. She just dumped a bowl of popcorn in the middle of Rosie’s floor.

“Enjoy,” she said. We stared at her nervously.

Kenny sniffed the bowl like a tracker dog. “It’s not poisoned, is it?”

Tiff laughed. “Brownie’s honour!”

“But I spoilt your dress!” cried Rosie.

“Thanks, but I’d figured that out for myself,” said Tiff calmly. “It’s OK. I’ll take it to the dry cleaners on Monday.”

Tiff was being so nice to us, I felt terrible. I’d have gone ballistic if it was my dress, wouldn’t you?

“We’ll chip in,” I said. “Rosie didn’t want to try it on, you know. We made her.”

Tiff took a deep breath. “Look, I don’t blame you for wanting to pay me back. I was totally out of order,” she said. “You could have dropped me in it. But you didn’t. Let’s call it quits.”

“All RIGHT!” we said, at exactly the same moment. Then we said, “Jinx!” and fell about laughing.

Tiff closed the door while we were still giggling.

“Let’s have our feast, before I fall asleep,” yawned Kenny.

As well as the popcorn, we had snowballs, rainbow drops, Pringles and those licorice wands with fizzy sherbet inside them. You wouldn’t believe how hungry you get babysitting!

“We earned this,” said Lyndz, through her mouthful of snowball.

“Yeah,” I said. “All’s well that ends well.”

But it wasn’t over. Nothing like…

Slow down a bit! We’re almost there, and I’ve got a question for you! How come Juice is so good-looking now he’s famous?!!

I think that’s one reason why Tiff let us off the hook. She thought it was really cool meeting Juice. Spud was dead jealous when he found out. He won’t forget their anniversary again in a hurry!

Here’s Rosie’s house, look. The really big one. Quick, duck down! They’re in Rosie’s front room waiting for me. Lucky Mr Quormby’s got his back to the window.

I’m not wimping out. No way! I just thought you’d like to hear the end of the story. I’ll tell you the good news first, OK? The stain totally came out of Tiffany’s dress, so she wore it to the dance after all.