Tthe Sleepover Club on the Beach (4 page)

“Why don’t we ask Mum if we can take our fish and chips down to the beach?” I suggested. “Like a picnic?”

“Excellent idea,” said Kenny.

“Won’t they get cold?” Rosie shuddered. “Cold fish and chips is icky.”

“We can go on our bikes,” I said eagerly.
“We could put them in my bike basket and pedal like the wind!”

Did you suss that I was being a girl in a book at that moment?

My mates gave me startled looks. But Kenny just said. “You’re on. If it’s ten minutes’ walk, we should bike it in five easily.”

We whizzed home at top speed, standing on our pedals.

When we got back, we quickly put on some warmer clothes. It was getting really chilly. Then Mum drove us to a tiny village. Just a street really, with a few dull-looking cottages, a pub and a tiny and very shabby looking fish-and-chip shop. It didn’t look incredibly impressive from the outside, to be honest. But Mum swore this place was famous locally for its brilliant fish and chips, so we all crowded in.

Ohhh! It smelled
wonderful.
I was seriously tempted to reach over the counter and grab a handful!

Luckily Mum had no objection to us eating ours down on the beach.

“So long as I get to eat mine in comfort,”
she yawned. “It’s been a long day, so be back by eight, OK?”

The instant we got home, we rushed off on our bikes. I was carrying our fish-and-chip picnic in my bike basket. I’d made sure to buy a big bottle of ginger beer at the fish-and-chip shop. You can’t have a real Thingybobby picnic without gallons of ginger beer. It’s like, a law!

It was hard work cycling through the water meadows. Plus the lovely vinegary smells wafting from the basket were driving me insane.

We bumped and jolted through the frothy cow parsley, past streams thick with flowering rushes. Finally we’d bumped all the way to a rickety wooden stile. To be on the safe side, we hid our bikes behind a tree.

We all scrambled over the stile and went racing breathlessly over the sand dunes, dodging between gorse bushes and springy tufts of sea lavender.

“How come gorse blossoms smell exactly like coconut suntan oil?” I puzzled aloud.

But at that moment Fliss squeaked, “I can hear the sea!”

“My lips taste salty,” said Kenny, sounding surprised.

And at that moment we reached the top of the dunes. There it was – huge and glittering and completely awesome.

Maybe you get bored with the sea if you see it every day. But if you live in the Midlands like we do, that first glimpse is a REALLY big deal. So we got totally overexcited!

“YAYY! Sleepover girls on the beach!” Kenny yelled suddenly.

And we all joined in, shrieking, “Sleepover girls on the beach! Sleepover girls on the beach!”

Then Rosie got muddled up, yelling “Beachover girls on the sleep”, and everyone collapsed into hysterics.

We stopped yelling as suddenly as we’d begun and just gazed around us happily. It was a very pebbly beach, with patches of damp sand, and a thick scattering of seaweed – the lacy pink and green kind, plus
the luscious bobbly stuff you can pop, kind of Nature’s bubblewrap!

The tide was out, exposing weedy rocks and rock pools and the shells of tiny crabs. Several white gulls were circling overhead, making their lonely cry.

“Our own private beach,” said Fliss dreamily. “Just like film stars.”

Kenny had gone into her starving girl impersonation. “Food!” she said feebly, stretching out a shaking hand. “
Now!
”

“Hang on, Kenz,” I teased her. “Food is coming!”

We hastily shared out the rations.

Frankie’s vegetarian as you probably know, so she had veggie burgers with her chips. The rest of us had cod coated in crispy golden batter.

They give you loads of chips at that shop. Amazingly they were still hot. A bit too hot! We kept burning our mouths. But we were so hungry, we totally didn’t care.

When she’d finished, Rosie licked each of her fingers one by one. “We’ll definitely put them in the Sleepover Food Guide,” she mumbled.

A worried look appeared in Fliss’s eyes. “I feel just a bit too full,” she said anxiously.

Frankie burped. “Me too. I drank that ginger beer too fast.”

“Let’s paddle,” I suggested. “That’ll help it go down.”

We weighted our rubbish with pebbles, so it wouldn’t blow away while we were gone. I don’t remember the Thingybobby kids ever bothering about rubbish, but then they didn’t have to worry about the ozone layer either.

We didn’t paddle for very long. The sun was starting to set and the sea was FREEZING, plus Suffolk pebbles totally kill your feet. So we went for an explore on the rocks instead. Bubblewrap seaweed makes great upholstery!

After a while Rosie said reluctantly, “We should probably go back.”

We started to pick our way through the pebbles.

“Sunset’s so flattering, isn’t it?” said Fliss. “You’re all pink and glowing, Lyndz.”

Frankie was looking thoughtful. “This is
such a great place,” she said. “Just a
teensy
bit too quiet. Do you think we can liven things up a bit?”

“Like how?” said Kenny.

Frankie gave me a mischievous look. “An adventure maybe? What do you reckon, Lyndz?”

I wondered if she was taking the mickey. You can never tell with Frankie.

“Erm, don’t know really,” I said cautiously.

Frankie sounded hurt. “Now don’t pretend you wouldn’t kill for an adventure, Lyndsey Collins. Why else did you bring those manky old adventure books on holiday?”

Yes, my mate was definitely trying to wind me up. And I was just going to tell her to get off my case when Kenny broke into a huge smile.

“Oh, I had a quick read of one this morning. Hope you don’t mind, Lyndz,” she added hastily. “I just
lurve
those stories. They’re so old fashioned, but you have to keep turning the pages.”

“I
know
!” said Rosie. “You like,
hate
yourself, but you can’t help it.”

I was stunned. Well, how about that! I
thought. My mates were secret Thingybobby fans all along!

And then it dawned on me. I mean, if Frankie despised those books as much as she said, how come she has all this expert knowledge?

She ADORES them, I realised suddenly. She’s just worried about her street cred! This thought made me ridiculously happy!!

Frankie beamed at me. “So how about it, Lyndz?”

“What kind of adventure were you thinking of?” asked Rosie eagerly.

She thought for a minute. “Erm, how about one of the guests at the B&B turns out to be a dangerous international jewel thief?”

“No,
I
know,” I said. “One of us sees a frightened face at the window. Some villains are holding a millionaire’s daughter to ransom, but no-one believes us.”

“I’d like to find treasure,” said Rosie wistfully. “Hidden treasure would be
really
cool.”

Kenny put on her Young Scientist voice. “Not everyone knows this,” she said. “But
sunset is the best time to find treasure on the beach.”

“How come?” said Frankie.

“Because you’ve got the sun behind you, so you can see all those emeralds and rubies like, sparkling madly.”

Of course, we all started fanatically scanning the pebbles. Everyone kept spotting thrilling gleams of colour and swooping with shrieks of excitement. But when we examined our “treasure” close up, it always turned out to be bits of stone or glass.

“That sunset theory is rubbish,” Rosie complained.

“Yeah, wet pebbles
always
sparkle,” I said. “Then you get back home and they’re as dull as – as…”

“Things which are really dull,” supplied Rosie helpfully.

Kenny scowled. “It’s
not
rubbish, and it’s
not
a theory. It’s a well-known—”

Her voice trailed off. She squatted down and started scrabbling madly in the sand.

“Does this count?” Kenny’s voice was
sharp with excitement. She triumphantly held up a large green bottle with a cork in it. Rolled up inside it was a scroll of stiff, ancient-looking paper.

We’d found a message in a bottle.

Five minutes later we were still struggling to get the cork out.

We tried using our teeth, our nails, also the awesome combined mind-power of the Sleepover Club. But the stupid thing
still
wouldn’t budge.

“We’ll have to borrow a corkscrew from your aunt,” Kenny sighed.

“Yeah right,” I snorted. “I can just see Mum’s face.”

“It’s not like we’re alcoholics,” Frankie objected. “We just want to get the message out.”

“
Exactly
,” I told them. “I mean, suppose, just suppose, this message is like, a genuine clue to hidden treasure?”

My mates stared at me.

“Do you really think it might be?” Rosie breathed.

“I’m just saying
suppose
,” I said. “But if grown-ups get wind of it, they’ll totally take over. Before you know it, people will be scouring the countryside with metal detectors. There’ll be reporters, press photographers.”

“Cool,” said Fliss. “We’ll get our pictures in the papers.”

“Don’t be stupid. It’ll be the total
opposite
of cool,” I said irritably.

Frankie nodded. “Lyndz’s right. We’ve got to keep this to ourselves.”

“Think about it, Flissy,” I said earnestly. “This way we get to have an adventure. A bona fide summer hols adventure.”

Fliss looked bewildered. “Is that to do with dogs?”

“Bona fide means ‘the real thing’,” Kenny explained. “It’s Greek or Latin or whatever.”

Rosie suddenly peered at her watch. “Yikes, we’re going to get killed. We should have been back ages ago!”

We hurried back to our bikes and went rattling back over the watermeadows. The wild-flower scents seemed sweeter than ever in the dusk, and the sky was full of birds winging their way back to the bird sanctuary before it was totally dark.

We rode breathlessly into the courtyard. Mum came out looking stressed. “We were just coming looking for you,” she said. “You should have been home half an hour ago.”

“Sorry,” I began.

“So you should be,” Mum snapped. “Riding around in the dark in a strange place. Anything could have happened to you. Go and get into your night things. I’ll come and check on you in a minute.”

“Yes, Mrs Collins,” said my mates meekly. They went trailing off to the stables.

“I’ll erm, just get a drink of water from the kitchen,” I said. (Well, the kitchen seemed like the obvious place to look for a corkscrew.)

But Mum firmly barred my way. “If you’re
thirsty, use the tap in the stables. I’ve been driving all day and I want an early night, so scat.”

I trudged over to the stables where my mates were waiting expectantly. “Sorry,” I sighed. “Mum did her sheepdog routine and headed me off.”

“We could always just smash it,” suggested Rosie hopefully.

I shook my head. “This place is quieter than a graveyard. Make that
two
graveyards,” I added gloomily. “If we start breaking glass, someone’s bound to ask awkward questions.”

Frankie sighed. “We’ll have to wait till we’re by ourselves.”

“If we’ve got to wait, we could just buy a corkscrew in the village,” Rosie pointed out.

“Good thinking. We’ll get one first thing,” I said. “Now get your jimjams on
fast.
Mum’s coming.”

We’d just dived under our covers when Mum came up the stairs, looking shattered. “Everyone OK?” she said wearily.

My mates gazed back at her with innocent eyes. “Yes, Mrs Collins,” they chanted.

“Good. Sorry if I was a bit snappy earlier,” said Mum. “It’s been a long day. Sleep tight.” She started off down the stairs.

“Oh, owing to popular request,” she called back in a jokey voice, “we’ll be leaving for the pleasure beach immediately after breakfast. So I want that light off in five minutes, OK?”

We waited until we heard her footsteps fade away.

Then Kenny hissed, “I can’t wait till morning, can you? Let’s creep into the house when everyone’s asleep. How hard can it be to find a corkscrew?”

Fliss was horrified. “I’m not going creeping around a haunted house in the dark. No WAY!”

“It’s not haunted, you wally,” said Kenny scornfully. “Lyndz’s uncle was just kidding around.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think he was.” Don’t tell my mates, but I wasn’t too crazy about meeting a ghost with a secret sorrow either!

“Kenz, I’m totally cream-crackered,” said
Frankie. “Can’t we wait till tomorrow like we agreed?”

I sighed. Thingybobby kids are always up for an adventure, no matter how tired they are. Plus they would never let some depressive ghost get between them and a vital corkscrew.

But this was my world and the fact was, I was totally cream-crackered too.

“Shall we have our feast tomorrow then?” said Rosie, who always likes to have everything planned out.

“Mmn, OK,” we mumbled sleepily.

She reached out to turn the light off. “Night everyone.”

“Night.”

SNAP! We were plunged into inky darkness.

“Eek!” squeaked Fliss. “I can’t see!”

“There’s no street lights, you nutcase,” Frankie jeered. “What did you expect?”

“She didn’t expect it to be so dark, obviously.” I said. “Duh!”

“Yeah, no need to be so superior, Francesca Thomas,” snarled Fliss.

“Oh all of you just SHUT up!” said Rosie exasperatedly.

A huffy silence filled the room.

There were no curtains at the window, and I could see the moon floating in the darkness, looking unusually huge. After a while I could see stars too, looking loads brighter than they do at home.

As my eyes adjusted, I noticed a faint gleam on the chest of drawers, where we’d left the bottle. The glass was catching the moonlight, which only made our thrilling find look more mysterious than ever.

Where had it come from? I wondered. And who’d put the message inside? And
why
?

I mean, it had to be absolutely ancient. No-one would put a message in a bottle these days. Not when they’ve got mobile phones and e-mail.

It’s so unfair, I thought. The Thingybobby kids have
weeks
to solve their mysteries. We’ve only got till Sunday.

I punched my pillow. How could I sleep when I didn’t know if our message was an SOS from a kidnap victim, or a bloodstained map describing where to find hidden treasure?

But somehow sleep crept up on me,
because next time I opened my eyes it was dawn and I was listening to weird snuffling sounds.

All the tiny hairs on my arms stood up. Eek, I thought, it’s the ghost!

The sound seemed to be coming from right outside our cottage.

“Hey you guys, can you hear that?” I whispered to my mates. But they were still dead to the world.

I padded over to the window and almost giggled with relief. My ghost was actually a fox, sniffing around the rubbish bags! I think it sensed me watching, because it pricked up its ears, then went loping into the bushes.

I checked my watch. It was still early, but I knew I’d never get back to sleep. I don’t know about you, but once this girl’s awake, she’s awake!

And suddenly I knew what I was going to do. I didn’t have to think about it. It was like I just
did
it.

I threw on my clothes and crept out into the pearly dawn. Ohh! It was pure magic out there. Everything still looked so
unused.
And
birds sang their hearts out from every tree and bush.

I helped myself to one of the bikes, wheeled it carefully over the bridge, then rode like crazy along the lane.

I was dizzy with excitement. I was cycling through the Suffolk countryside all by myself and I wasn’t even scared!

Have you sussed where I was going? Boy, you know me way too well for comfort!

And when I got to the bottom of the hill, there he was, grazing among the buttercups, looking just as magical as I remembered.

A faint mist was rising from the grass, making my dream horse seem even more dreamlike than ever.

“Hello, beautiful,” I whispered. “It’s me, your biggest fan. It’s Lyndsey.”

The pony looked up briefly, then went on peacefully nibbling the grass.

I used my special horse-charming voice. “I
said
I’d come back,” I coaxed him. “Why don’t you come over, hey? Come over and talk to me?”

I stood there for ages, talking in the same
soft coaxing voice, and suddenly something wonderful happened.

The pony slowly started to make his way over to the gate, trying to make it look like it was just coincidence.

I kept talking softly. “Come on, beautiful. Come and talk to me. I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

The pony whiffled his lovely velvety nose. I saw the tendons in his neck stand out. His super-sensitive nostrils flared, like he was receiving vital messages about me through the air.

I think his invisible advisers said I was OK, because the pony went on edging closer and closer, until he was standing so close to me I hardly dared to breathe.

But at the last minute he danced sideways like a circus pony, then he stood hanging his head and harrumphing, like he’d totally embarrassed himself.

“Don’t worry,” I told him lovingly. “You can’t help being scared. Look, I’ll try to come back later. Maybe we can talk then.”

I didn’t have to turn round to know my dream pony was watching me as I wheeled
my bike slowly up the hill. I could
feel
it in the back of my neck.

It hadn’t worked out like I hoped, but I was still glad I’d cycled out to see him in the early morning dew. That is, I was sad, but kind of happy too, if that makes sense?

I burst into our hayloft bedroom, just as my mates were beginning to stir. “Come on, lazy bones!” I teased. “Some of us have been up for
hours
!”

“Cool! Did you nab us a tin opener? Erm, corkscrew, I mean?” yawned Rosie.

Kenny was hunting around for her toothbrush. “Nah!” she grinned. “She’s been to see her horse. Haven’t you, Lyndz?”

I clutched my head. “Oh, NO!” I groaned. I had completely forgotten about our adventure! How could something so important slip my mind?

Lyndsey Collins, I scolded myself. You are
such
an amateur, getting distracted like that.

“So we definitely have to buy one, then?” said Rosie.

“Mmn?” I was still miles away.

“I
said
, so we definitely have to buy one then?”

“One what?” I said blankly.

“A tin opener – oh,
bums
! A corkscrew, I mean!” Rosie said crossly. “Lyndz, honestly! You’ve got a brain like a – oh, you know!”

Rosie’s well dozy in the mornings. I started to grin. “Sorry, Rosie. We’ll get one straight after breakfast.”

“We don’t have to eat breakfast with all those other guests, do we?” asked Fliss anxiously.

“I hope not,” I muttered.

But when we went over for breakfast, my aunt told us that all the B&B guests had gone off to do this like, historic reconstruction at the local manor house. They just came back to sleep at night, apparently.

What a sad way to spend your weekend, I thought. Running round in silly costumes, pretending you live in olden times. Oh, well! It keeps them out of our hair!

“Hope you’re hungry,” my aunt said cheerfully, and she started putting all this food on the table.

I don’t know about you, but in our house breakfast is not that big a deal. Well, let me tell you, this was an epic FEAST!

Waffles and maple syrup, sausages and eggs, fresh fruit and home-made yoghurt… There was no end to it. And I’m embarrassed to say we wolfed the lot!

“Can’t we at least help with the washing up?” Mum pleaded.

“Certainly not,” beamed Auntie Roz. “Carrie will be here in a minute. She’s an absolute treasure, even if she
is
a bit of an eco-warrior.” My aunt chuckled.

“Don’t knock eco-warriors, they’re cool,” Kenny mumbled through a mouthful of crispy bacon.

“We know one personally,” I explained. “Her name is Jewel.”