Tthe Sleepover Club on the Beach (7 page)

“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 years. 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?!!

  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