by Angie Bates
Fliss went all misty-eyed. “Oh, I bet he was really good looking,” she sighed.
Kenny was shocked. “You’re not supposed to fancy him, Fliss! He was a thief!”
“But Rosie said he was really sorry afterwards,” Fliss pointed out.
It was like she’d forgotten all her doubts. She was totally caught up in Rosie’s make-believe! We all were.
Rosie nodded eagerly. “I bet he went off to start a new life in – in… I don’t know…”
“Australia,” suggested Fliss.
“Exactly. And as the boat sailed away, the lord’s son threw the bottle over the side, saying ‘I will never profit from my terrible crime, but one day…’”
Frankie elbowed Rosie out of the way and took over, giggling. “’But one day five lucky girls will find this and become humungously rich!!’”
Suddenly everyone went quiet. We stared at each other in the torchlight.
“This is really happening, isn’t it?” I said. “We are really really having an adventure.”
“Yes,” beamed Frankie. “We really really are!”
“Just checking,” I said happily.
“So now what?” said Fliss.
“We’ll get Lyndz’s mum to take us to the church first thing,” said Frankie.
Something about this didn’t feel right. The Thingbobby kids would never just wait until someone’s mum gave them a lift. They’d set off right away, cycling fearlessly along the dark lonely lanes. And if they got tired, the lads would break out the fluff-covered toffees, to keep up their strength.
I sighed. In our times, it’s practically impossible to have a bona fide adventure, when you’re our age anyway.
But no-one else seemed to think it was a problem.
“OK, so that’s settled,” grinned Frankie. “Now let’s eat!”
I know, it doesn’t seem possible, does it! Where DO we put it?
I have no idea, but we did. We always do!
We feasted happily on stale flying saucers etcetera, weaving wild daydreams about the things we’d do when we became millionaires.
“I’ll run my own riding stables,” I said. “No question.”
“Go to Hollywood and make films,” Frankie mumbled through a mouthful of Eccles cake.
Fliss didn’t have to think about it. “Start my own incredibly successful design label,” she beamed.
“Me? Oh, I think I’d probably buy Leicester City football club,” said Kenny, dead casually.
I noticed Rosie smiling to herself in the torchlight. “I’d buy my brother the very latest state-of-the-art computer,” she said. “So he can be really independent.”
See what I mean about Rosie? She just can’t help being grown-up, even in her daydreams.
But it wasn’t long before we were all yawning. For real this time.
“Sorry to be a party pooper,” said Kenny. “But I’ve got to turn in. I’m shattered.”
We switched off our torches, and settled down to go to sleep.
Lying in the dark often makes Frankie really chatty. (NO!!) Her voice floated through the dark. “When you think about it,” she said drowsily, “we’re exactly like the kids in the books. I mean, they’re always stuffing their faces and so are we.”
“Mmn,” we all said sleepily.
“And our characters are so similar, it’s spooky!” she prattled on. “Fliss is the girly one, and Kenny is like a total tomboy and Lyndz is animal crazy, and Rosie’s like the motherly sensible one.”
I heard Kenny snort. “Yeah, so which one are you, then?”
Frankie sounded smug. “I’m the brainy one who unravels the clues, of course!”
So we all threw our pillows at her, then of course we had to get up and find them again!
But as I drifted off to sleep, my mind was buzzing with questions.
In that book world, anything is possible. Ten-year-old kids go camping by themselves and no-one turns a hair. They even capture grown-up criminals and march them off to the police.
But this was our world, the real world.
Did we really think we could walk into a church and help ourselves to valuable treasure, just because we’d found a clue in a bottle?
Could it really be that easy? The others seemed to think so, and I wanted to believe them.
But suddenly, as I lay there in the dark, I wasn’t nearly so sure.
Early next morning we rushed to find Mum and begged her to take us to Blythburgh Church.
“What brought this on?” she said suspiciously.
Frankie clasped her hands. “It was just such a lovely experience, Mrs Collins,” she said. “We just have to see that roof once more before we go home.”
“I mean, who knows when we’ll come back?” Kenny said in a tragic voice.
Auntie Roz laughed. “I’ll take them! You stay here,” she said to Mum. “Pour yourself another cup of coffee and chat to your brother.”
She picked up her car keys, and we all set off to Blythburgh in my uncle and aunt’s battered old van. “It’s Sunday, so we’ll have to nip in between services,” she explained over the roar of the engine. She gave us a comical look. “Unless you were actually wanting to go to church?”
We hastily shook our heads.
Auntie Roz grinned. “So now we’re alone, do you think you could spill the beans? You five girls are fizzing like Roman candles and the suspense is killing me!”
I don’t know why we decided to take Auntie Roz into our confidence. but we told her everything.
She was fascinated to hear about the bottle. “I did wonder where my corkscrew had got to,” she said humorously. She was genuinely astonished when we read her the message, but she didn’t seem too confident we’d find hidden treasure at Blythburgh Church.
“Still, there’s no harm in looking,” she said cheerfully. “And on the way back I’ll buy you some ice-creams, how about that!”
She’s worried we’ll be disappointed, I thought. I got this horrible sinking feeling. How could I have been so stupid as to think we’d find treasure in a church?
In our hayloft, alone in the torchlight, I’d let my imagination carry me over the rainbow into Thingybobby Land. But now it was morning in the real world, and we were driving along a busy main road, and I just knew it was never going to happen.
From their subdued expressions, I got the impression my mates were feeling the same way.
At last the van crunched over the gravel into the church car park. Churchgoers were already streaming out.
We jumped out and followed Auntie Roz through the crowd. I was feeling totally desperate by this time. “Look, let’s forget about it,” I hissed to the others. “It was a stupid idea.”
“Look, we’re here, aren’t we?” said Frankie angrily. “And I’m not a quitter, even if you are.”
Rosie sounded reproachful. “We can at least look, since we’re here, Lyndz.”
And my mates went wandering off with Auntie Roz.
I stayed glued by the door, feeling like I had “stupid wally” written all over me.
Little choirboys were practising a hymn at the far end of the church. And I could see the vicar talking earnestly to two old ladies.
I started feeling uncomfortable about taking up his valuable church space when I didn’t attend this actual church, so I drifted off to the side and pretended to look at some postcards they had for sale.
Wonder if they’ve got a postcard of the angels, I thought. I could get one for Dad.
I started to search along the rack, and suddenly this card fell at my feet.
It wasn’t a picture postcard. It just had writing on it. My heartbeat went into overdrive. I fumbled frantically in my bag until I found the message. The writing on the card was exactly the same!
Only this message was strictly twenty-first century.
And underneath was the number of the local radio station.
There was also a heap of info about the Tourist Board, and all the exciting places you could visit in Su
ffolk which I didn’t even try to take in.
I rushed to find the others. “Our treasure’s for real!” I squeaked. “I mean, it’s actually a publicity stunt for the Tourist Board. But we’ve won a prize!”
I dragged them outside. “See these!” I pointed to the numbers at the bottom of the original message. “They’re not measurements at all. It’s the wavelength of the radio station we were listening to on the way down! Isn’t that amazing!” I was practically jumping up and down.
The others still looked a bit dazed.
“It’s fantastic,” said my aunt warmly. “Not quite what you girls were expecting, I know. You must phone the station as soon as we get back to the cottage.”
Fliss started to grin. “We can do better than that!”
And as if she’d owned a mobile her whole life, she fished it out of her jeans pocket, switched on, and carefully punched in the number.
“Oh good morning,” she said politely. “We’re currently visiting the Suffolk area and we’re phoning to claim our prize. No, I don’t mind holding…”
Isn’t it incredible!
We’d been having a totally modern adventure all along!
OK, so our treasure wasn’t quite as romantic as we hoped. But if you think about it, it’s way more useful. At least we got to keep this prize. I don’t REALLY think we’d have been allowed to keep actual gold and rubies, do you? Not in this world!
Only you’re going to have to wait a bit longer before I give you the juicy details of the humungously generous prize we received from the Suffolk Tourist Board, because I’ve got some eensy weensy loose ends to tie up first.
But you guessed that already, didn’t you!
“Will you be wanting the bikes, girls, or shall I lock them up?” Uncle Phil asked us after lunch.
Mum looked doubtful. “We’ll have to leave soon.”
My mates were all sprawled on a big sofa playing with Gizmo.
“I’m too stuffed to move,” Kenny groaned.
This was the opportunity I’d been waiting for.
“Mu-um,” I said pleadingly. “Is there time for me to have a very quick ride? I won’t be more than ten minutes, honestly.”
(Well I couldn’t possibly go without saying goodbye to my dream horse now, could I?)
“All right, but not a minute longer,” said Mum. “You’ve all got school tomorrow.”
“I’ll ride like the wind!” I said eagerly, then I blushed. I’d accidentally slipped into book-speak without thinking.
“I’ll go with her, don’t worry,” said Uncle Phil. “Want to go anywhere in particular, Lyndz?” he grinned.
We went bombing along the lane, me and my Australian uncle. Me first, him following. Both of us talking a blue streak. I’d got over my annoyance at having company. Actually, it was great to have a chance to chat.
I was telling him what a great time I’d had.
Uncle Phil said, “You must get your mum to bring you again.” He meant it too. And with a rush of happiness, it dawned on me that I had just acquired a really cool uncle.
Which is probably why I didn’t see the elderly teddy boy glowering by the gate until it was too late.
“What do you think you’re up to, girl?” he demanded.
To my amazement he gave my uncle a friendly grin. “Arternoon, Phil,” he said. “This that little niece you were talking about?”
“Yes, this is Lyndsey,” said my uncle.
“I suppose she’s come to see Eeyore here.” The old man gave me a searching look. “Pretty little old boy, in’t he?”
“He’s beautiful,” I said with feeling. But I couldn’t help saying, “Why ever did you call him Eeyore?”
Because if that pony was mine, I’d have named him something really lovely, not called him after some gloomy donkey.
The old man laughed, a rather rusty laugh, as if he didn’t get much practice. “Oh Lord, he weren’t mine to name, dear. He belongs to my granddaughter, Amy. She’s been in the hospital these last three months. We’ve all been right worried about her. I promised I’d take care of Eeyore for her while she was poorly, but today we’ve just had some good news, and she’s a-coming out next Friday.”
“Ohh,” I said. “So that’s why you—”
Then I went bright red. I’d been going to say, “So THAT’S why you were looking so bad-tempered.”
Instead I said hastily, “So that’s why you’re up and down the lane all the time.”
“You like horses, then, do you, Lyndsey?” he asked.
“I love them,” I said. “I go riding every chance I get.”
“You want to come back in a few months,” he suggested to my surprise. “We’re a-going to break that little pony in, when Amy gets her strength back. You and she can maybe get together.”
While we were chatting by the gate, the sweetest thing happened. Like all horses, the dream horse was really nosy. He came sidling up, to see what was going on, whiffling his super-sensitive nostrils.
“Let him smell your hand,” said the old man. “Go on, let him know you’re his friend.”
Very slowly I reached out my hand, and to my delight Eeyore actually brushed it with his velvety nose, then danced away on his gangly foal legs.
I touched my hand to my cheek. I couldn’t stop smiling.
“We’d better go,” said Uncle Phil. “Your mum’s waiting.”
I started pushing my bike up the hill. “Erm, I’m really glad Amy’s getting better,” I called. “I’d like to meet her when I come again.”
The old man gave me a brief wave. He still looked like a big elderly ted, but he didn’t look nearly so villainous somehow.
That’s a major difference between our world and the book world where villains are instantly recognisable because of their rat-like features. In our world you probably pass villains in the street all the time and never know it.
When we reached Willow Cottage, Uncle Phil said to run and tell Mum I was back, while he put the bikes away.
But when I walked in through the front door, there was nobody there. I wandered in and out of the rooms calling, but no-one answered.
I started to get slightly spooked. It was like they’d all vanished off the face of the earth.
I’d just decided to go across to the stable cottage to see if they were there, when I heard the tiniest movement behind me.
I spun around – and found myself two metres away from the ghost.
OK, as ghosts go it wasn’t incredibly old fashioned, but a ghost is a ghost, right? And the fact that this ghost was a freckle-faced boy, about my own age, wearing baggy 1940s shorts and tragic beige knitwear, didn’t make it any less terrifying.
It made it worse, actually. It was like I was being haunted by a character from the Thingybobby books!
I just stood there, gawping at him, almost fainting with fright. Suddenly he put his hand into his pocket. For a moment I thought he was going to hand me a toffee, or perhaps (eek!) give me a hold of his pet rat. Instead he pulled out a large home-made catapult.
“Don’t shoot!” I squeaked ridiculously.
“Oh, ha ha, great joke,” he snorted. “My parents won’t even let me fire it at a tin can.” He scowled. “That’s just SO typical. They drag me into the middle of nowhere to take part in some stupid historical reconstruction, and make me wear these stupid prickly clothes, and they STILL never let me have any fun!”
And the boy stomped out into the garden, muttering angrily.
Suddenly I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it.
“That was SO weird,” I giggled to myself.
Wait till I told my mates! And I went racing off to find them, grinning from ear to ear.
I told you those old adventure books were crucial, didn’t I? But before you go, I’ve got a confession to make.
Remember I said I wished my parents would get me a computer? Well, I was stringing you along a teensy bit.
You see, I knew all along they could never afford to buy one in a million year
s. But now it completely doesn’t matter. Why? Because under this piece of plastic sheeting – tada!
Hidden treasure!
Now tell me honestly, have you ever seen such a cool computer in your life?
There were other prizes on offer, depending on which bottle you found: a balloon trip over the Suffolk countryside, a meal in a swanky Aldeburgh restaurant. But somehow our luck was in, and we got this totally awesome machine.
The great thing is, all my mates have got computers already, so they were really chilled about me keeping it here. It was even their idea.
And yes, maybe it did have something to do with me sorting out my room. It’s a groovy twenty-first-century machine, and like I said at the start, I’ve made up my mind to be a genuine twenty-first-century girl (who also happens to lurve old-fashioned adventure stories!).
Oh well, better get back to filling these bin bags. Take care, won’t you? It’s been great talking to you.
Bye – and have a really great summer, yeah?!!
HAVE YOU BEEN INVITED TO ALL THESE SLEEPOVERS?
The Sleepover Club at Frankie’s
The Sleepover Club at Lyndsey’s
The Sleepover Club at Felicity’s
The Sleepover Club at Rosie’s
The Sleepover Club at Laura’s
Starring the Sleepover Club
Sleepover Girls go Pop!
The 24-Hour Sleepover Club
The Sleepover Club Sleeps Out
Happy Birthday Sleepover Club
Sleepover Girls on Horseback
Sleepover in Spain
Sleepover on Friday 13th
Sleepover Girls go Camping
Sleepover Girls go Detective
Sleepover Girls go Designer
The Sleepover Club Surfs the Net
Sleepover Girls on Screen
Sleepover Girls and Friends
Sleepover Girls on the Catwalk
The Sleepover Club Goes for Goal!
Sleepover Girls go Babysitting
Sleepover Girls go Snowboarding
Happy New Year, Sleepover Club!
Sleepover Girls go Green
We Love You Sleepover Club
Vive le Sleepover Club!