Vive le Sleepover Club!

by Narinder Dhami

  “I don’t like it here!” Fliss whispered, looking even more panicked. Right at that moment, though, Mrs Weaver came out again.

  “Stay where you are until I call your names, please.” She consulted her clipboard. “Laura, Frankie, Felicity, Lyndsey and Rosie, you get off first, please.” Grinning smugly at the M&Ms, we picked up our bags and rushed off the minibus.

  “You’re in a room together on the top floor,” Mrs Weaver went on, and we all glanced at each other in delight. Being in a room together would make it really easy to have a brilliant sleepover! Only Fliss didn’t look too thrilled.

  “The top floor?” she said in a wobbly voice. “We’re not in an old and dusty attic, are we?”

  Mrs Weaver frowned. “Of course not, Felicity! Now here’s Pascal, who’s the son of the owner…”

  A boy with dark hair came out of the hotel entrance. He was about a year or so older than us, and quite good-looking, I suppose -if you like boys!

  “He’s going to show you the way to your room.”

  “Oh, right!” said Fliss, brightening up a bit. She pretends she doesn’t like boys that much, but she’s not a very good fibber!

  “Bonjour” said Pascal.

  “Bonjour,” we all chorused. That was about all the French we knew!

  “At least he looks normal!” Kenny remarked as we followed him into the big hotel lobby. “Not like that scary maid with the caterpillar eyebrows!”

  “Ssh!” Lyndz nudged her. “He might understand what you’re saying!”

  “Oh, I bet he doesn’t speak English.” Kenny winked at us, then turned to Pascal. “Do you speak English?”

  Pascal shrugged. “Je ne comprends pas.”

  “What does that mean?” I asked.

  “You know English?” Kenny repeated, waving her hands around.

  Pascal shook his head.

  “He doesn’t!” Kenny said triumphantly. “Maybe we should teach him some. Hey, Pascal! Say ‘Leicester City are the best football team in the whole world’!”

  Pascal grinned. “Leicester Ceety…” he began, then he stopped and looked puzzled.

  “That’s too hard for him, Kenny!” Frankie said impatiently. “Hey, Pascal, say ‘Emma Hughes stinks’!”

  “Emma Yoos steenks,” said Pascal obediently, and we all roared with laughter.

  The hotel was OK inside. At least it wasn’t too much like a haunted house! All the furniture and the wallpaper was really old-fashioned, but it was very clean. Fliss cheered up a bit, but her face soon fell again as Pascal led us up three dark, gloomy flights of stairs to our bedroom.

  The bedroom was quite nice. It had a double bed and three singles, all crammed in together. There were flowery quilts on the bed, and matching curtains at the window, which gave us a brilliant view over the rooftops of Paris. We could even see the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

  “Who’s sharing?” Kenny asked, bouncing up and down on the double bed.

  “I’m not sleeping with Lyndz – she hiccups in the night!” said Fliss immediately.

  “I’m not sleeping with Kenny – she’s got freezing feet!” I put in.

  “I’m not sleeping with Fliss – she snores!” Frankie said. “Sometimes,” she added, as Fliss gave her a furious look.

  “I’ll share with Lyndz,” Kenny suggested. “Then if she hiccups in the night, I can put my cold feet on her and give her a shock!”

  We all agreed, so Frankie, Fliss and I bagged one each of the single beds.

  “Hey, Pascal!” Frankie called. “Say this –‘I’ve got a big spot on my bottom’!”

  “I’ve got a beeg spot on my bottom!” Pascal repeated, looking very pleased with himself. We all tried not to laugh too hard in case he caught on.

  “‘Bye!” Kenny called as he went out. “Be careful how you sit down!”

  We all fell about when the door closed.

  “I think we’re going to have some fun with Pascal!” Frankie spluttered.

  Just then the door opened again and we all sat up. The scary maid stomped in, carrying two of our suitcases as if they were as light as a feather. She looked sourly at us, dropped the cases on the floor and went out again.

  “Well, she’s a right laugh, isn’t she!” said Lyndz.

  “She’s spooky!” Fliss said with a shiver.

  “Yeah, maybe she’s really a zombie!” Kenny suggested eagerly. “Maybe she’ll creep into our room at night and—”

  “Kenny!” Fliss wailed. “Is there a lock on the door?”

  We all rushed over to have a look. But then we noticed something else. Just past our door, there was another long, dusty, winding staircase, which went up right over our heads and then wound out of sight.

  “Wow!” Kenny breathed. “That must go right up to the attic. Let’s go and take a look!”

  Fliss didn’t look too happy, and I wasn’t that keen myself. Meanwhile Lyndz was looking at a sign on the wall.

  “Entrée interdite au public” she read. “What does that mean?”

  “Maybe it means – this way to the haunted attic!” Kenny suggested, with a wicked gleam in her eye.

  “No, it doesn’t.” Frankie had gone back into the bedroom to get her phrasebook. “It means we can’t go up there. It’s private.”

  Fliss looked relieved.

  “Oh, well…” Kenny grinned round at us. “We’ll just have to wait until tomorrow night when we have our first sleepover, won’t we? Then we’ll be able to explore!”

  “I’m sure I heard noises coming from that attic last night!”

  Frankie sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes. It was morning, and the sunshine was streaming through the windows. We all sat up in our beds and stared at her.

  “You’re making it up!” Fliss said fearfully.

  I hadn’t heard anything at all. By the time we’d unpacked and then had something to eat, we were all pretty tired and I’d slept really soundly.

  “No, I did!” Frankie insisted. “It was just after we’d gone to bed, but all the rest of you were snoring your heads off!”

  “I reckon you’re having us on,” Kenny said.

  “No, I’m not!” Frankie insisted, but we all chucked our pillows in her direction and then jumped on her.

  We were starving, so we dashed down to breakfast at eight o’clock sharp. The rest of the school party were just coming in too, along with the teachers, and there were a few other guests in the dining room, mostly Japanese and British tourists. We managed to bag a table on our own, well away from the M&Ms and the teachers.

  “Hey, look!” said Kenny as the grim-faced maid, who was called Chantal, brought some plates over to our table. “Croissants! Brilliant!”

  Chantal gave us a dirty look as we all dived on the plate of croissants.

  “Mmm, this beats Coco-Pops and burnt toast any day!” Lyndz said through a mouthful of crumbs.

  While we were eating, Pascal came in.

  “Hi, Pascal! Over here!” Kenny waved at him, and he came over to our table. “How are you?”

  Pascal nodded and smiled, obviously not understanding a word. “Avez-vous bien dormi la nuit derniére?

  We all looked blank.

  “What’s he saying?” Lyndz asked.

  “Haven’t a clue.” I said.

  Kenny tried again. “What – did – you – say – Pascal?” she said in a really slow voice, as if she was talking to a two-year-old.

  “Oh, don’t be daft, Kenny!” Frankie scoffed. “He’s not going to understand, however slowly you speak!”

  “Maybe we can ask Mrs Weaver,” I suggested. “She speaks good French.”

  “Not a good idea, Rosie-Posie,” said Kenny “He might tell her some of the English we’ve been teaching him!”

  We all giggled. Meanwhile, Pascal still looked a bit confused, although he was smiling.

  “OK, Pascal, say this,” Kenny told him gleefully “‘Mrs Weaver is a—’”

  “Kenny!” we all hissed frantically. “She’s coming over!”
>
  “We’re leaving at nine sharp for sightseeing, girls.” Mrs Weaver stopped by our table as we stared innocently at her. “So make sure you’re on the minibus by then.”

  “Yes, Mrs Weaver,” we said together.

  “That was close!” I breathed as the teacher went back to her table. “You’d better be careful what you teach Pascal, Kenny!”

  “Hey, Pascal,” Kenny said suddenly. “You know that staircase by our door – where does it go to?”

  “Comment?” Pascal gave us a blank look.

  “That staircase,” Kenny began again, but Frankie nudged her.

  “Give it up, Kenny!” she said. “He doesn’t know what you’re going on about!”

  “Oh, well, we can find out for ourselves, anyway,” Kenny said as Pascal went out. “I can’t wait to go exploring tonight when we have our sleepover!”

  The first morning of our visit to Paris was really cool! After breakfast we all piled on to the minibus, and Mrs Jackson drove us down to the River Seine, where we went on a boat trip. The boat took us along the river, past some of the most famous buildings in Paris. We saw the big cathedral, Notre Dame, which stands on an island in the middle of the river. The guide told us that Paris had started out there as a very small town. Then we saw the Louvre and the Musée D’Orsay, which are two really famous museums, and loads of other interesting things. Then, right at the end, we came to what we had all been waiting for.

  “The Eiffel Tower!” Fliss squealed excitedly as we all stared at the Tower stretching right up to the sky.

  “It’s huge!” I gasped, craning my neck back. It was so tall, it was difficult to see it all in one go.

  “We can go up it, can’t we, Mrs Weaver?” Kenny asked eagerly as we climbed off the boat. “The guide said that we can go right to the top!”

  Mrs Weaver smiled. “Of course we can,” she said. “You get a wonderful view of Paris from up there.”

  “I can’t wait!” Kenny said eagerly, and the rest of us nodded. Then Kenny nudged me. “Look at the Queen and the Goblin!” she whispered.

  Emma and Emily were staring up at the Eiffel Tower, and looking a bit sick. I guess neither of them was very keen on heights!

  “How high is the Eiffel Tower, Mrs Weaver?” Kenny asked innocently “I didn’t hear what the guide said.”

  “Oh, well, let me see.” Mrs Weaver took out her guidebook. “The Tower is 300.51 metres tall.”

  Emily whispered something to Emma.

  “Oh, and this is interesting,” Mrs Weaver went on. “If the wind’s very strong, apparently the Tower sways from side to side!”

  The M&Ms looked up anxiously at the sky, and the Sleepover Club started to giggle.

  “If anyone doesn’t want to go up the Tower,” Mrs Weaver called as she ushered us across the square to join the queue at the entrance, “they can wait down here with Mr Tate.”

  “So are you going to wimp out, Emma?” Frankie asked scornfully. “Or are you coming up the Eiffel Tower with the rest of us?”

  “Of course we are!” Emma retorted haughtily, but her voice was a bit wobbly. I guess she didn’t want to look like a coward in front of us, but she was as white as a ghost!

  “Actually I might wait down here,” Emily began timidly, but she soon shut up as the Queen gave her one of her snooty looks.

  “Never mind, Emily,” I said. “You and Emma can hang on to each other if it gets a bit windy!”

  “Ha ha, very funny!” snapped Emma, pushing into the queue ahead of us.

  “The Tower won’t really sway about if it gets windy, will it?” Fliss asked nervously.

  “Nah, don’t worry about it,” said Kenny, but Fliss didn’t look too convinced.

  “Mrs Weaver wouldn’t let us go up there if it was dangerous, Fliss,” I said. “Would she, Frankie?”

  Frankie wasn’t listening. “Hey, look over there!” she exclaimed. “Somebody’s filming something!”

  Immediately we all looked over to where Frankie was pointing, our eyes out on stalks. Sure enough, there was a large group of people in the square, and some of them were holding TV cameras.

  “Maybe it’s a news story,” Fliss suggested.

  “Yeah, maybe they’ve come to film the Eiffel Tower blowing around in the wind!” Kenny suggested wickedly.

  “Oh, shut up, Kenny!” Fliss wailed, giving her a shove.

  “No, hang on a minute! Look! It’s them! It’s her!” Lyndz could hardly get the words out because she was suddenly so excited. “It’s Westwood Street!”

  “What!” I gasped.

  Westwood Street was our absolute favourite soap back home. It was set in a street in the middle of London, and we never, ever missed a single episode. In fact, we’d all asked our mums to tape it while we were away! Our most favourite actor was Danni Hart. She played a teenager called Billie Johnson who was always getting into trouble – a bit like the Sleepover Club, I guess!

  “She’s right!” Frankie spluttered. “There’s Danni Hart!” And our eyes nearly popped out as we recognised the actress with her familiar cropped blonde hair. She was wearing a black leather jacket, and she was chatting to some of the other actors, who also looked familiar.

  “That’s Whatsisname – Chris Hamilton!” Fliss stuttered.

  “And Liam Darcy!” Kenny added. “They must be filming some scenes for Westwood Street in Paris! Cool or what!”

  By now the rest of the kids from our school had sussed what was going on, and the M&Ms looked as if they were about to wet themselves with excitement. None of the other tourists in the queue looked that bothered though. I guess they didn’t get Westwood Street in Japan!

  “Right, let’s try that scene again,” we heard a man shout. He must have been the director or something.

  “I’m not ready yet,” Danni Hart called back with a frown.

  The queue moved on a bit, and even though we were dying to go up the Tower, we didn’t really want to move. We wanted to watch the filming.

  “I wish I could get Danni Hart’s autograph!” Fliss sighed as we shuffled forward reluctantly.

  “I could get it for you!” Kenny boasted.

  “Oh, behave, Kenny!” Frankie said with a grin. “Don’t be so daft!”

  Kenny stuck her tongue out at her. “Who’s being daft? I could get it!”

  “How?” Fliss asked. “We’re about to go up the Eiffel Tower!”

  “And Mrs Weaver won’t let you,” I added at the same time.

  Kenny shrugged. “So what? I bet I can do it!”

  “Go on, then!” Fliss said teasingly. “I dare you!”

  At that moment Emma Hughes turned round, and gave Kenny a smug grin. “I dare you too!” she said smoothly.

  Well, you know what Kenny’s like. The word dare to Kenny is like a red rag to a bull!

  “Right, you’re on!” Kenny snapped.

  “OK!” Emma agreed immediately while the rest of us looked at us each other in alarm. We’d only been winding Kenny up about the autograph - she didn’t have a chance of getting it with Mrs Weaver in full view! And anyway, the actors were in the middle of filming - there was no way they’d stop to give autographs.

  “Fine!” Kenny retorted airily.

  “Kenny, this isn’t a good idea!” Frankie warned her.

  “It’s a stupid idea!” Fliss added.

  “Yeah, don’t take the bet!” Lyndz and I said together.

  “Too late, she already did!” the Queen pointed out smugly. Then she turned to Kenny and raised her eyebrows. “Unless you want to pull out of it, of course?”

  “No way!” Kenny said firmly, and she glared at the rest of us. “It’ll be cool - you’ll see!”

  We didn’t think it would be cool at all, but we kept quiet because Kenny’s our mate and we had to stand by her.

  “Right, let’s sort out the details,” Emma said, grinning all over her face. “You’re going to get Danni Hart’s autograph for me. And if you don’t, you’re going to give me all the Leicester City auto
graphs that you collected last season!”

  We all gasped, and even Kenny did a bit of a double-take then. She’d spent ages getting every single one of the players’ signatures. She was dead proud of them too. And the Queen knew it.

  “What do you want with those autographs?” Frankie said indignantly. “You don’t even like football!”

  Emma shrugged. “That’s not the point! Well, Kenny?”

  “All right,” Kenny snapped. “And if I do get it, you and Emily have to be our slaves for the rest of the holiday! What do you say?”

  “No way!” Emily began gruffly, but the Queen gave her a dig in the ribs.

  “Don’t be so silly, Emily! There’s no way we can lose!”

  The Goblin didn’t look very convinced, but the Queen shut her up, like she always did.

  “Fine.” Emma Hughes turned to Kenny with a smug smile. “Go and get the autograph, then!”

  “I’m going!” Kenny stood on tiptoe and checked where Mrs Weaver was. She was in front of us in the queue, and she was reading the guidebook. She had her head bent over it, and wasn’t looking round. Mrs Jackson was in front of her, and she was talking to some of the other kids. “You lot cover for me!”

  “Hurry up, Kenny!” Fliss said nervously.

  “It’ll be easy-peasy!” Kenny declared confidently and slid out of the queue, while the rest of the Sleepover Club watched anxiously

  “That’s what she thinks!” Emma grinned.

  It was then that I noticed just what the Queen was grinning about. We’d been so excited about the filming before, that we hadn’t noticed there were some people with walkie-talkies who were politely but firmly keeping passers-by away from the scene of the filming.

  “Look!” I nudged Frankie. “Kenny’s never going to get past them!”

  “If anyone can, Kenny can!” Frankie retorted, but she didn’t sound too hopeful either.

  Kenny sidled across the square towards the filming. She was heading straight for Danni Hart. Unfortunately, she was just about a few hundred yards away when someone called, “Right, let’s try that scene again,” and the actors moved into position.

  “She’s blown it!” Lyndz hissed as we all moved closer to the entrance to the Tower. “She’ll never get it now!”