Tthe Sleepover Club on the Beach (6 page)

“Oh,
those
angels,” said Kenny, instantly cheering up. “Oh wow!”

Fliss’s eyes widened. “You think the treasure’s in that church, don’t you!”

We all nodded.

“Those numbers are probably like, measurements,” said Frankie eagerly. “So we’ll know how many paces to take. They always did that with hidden treasure.”

“What do you think it actually
is
?” I said. “Gold and jewels, strings of valuable pearls and stuff?”

“Sometimes it’s like, a stash of ancient gold coins,” said Kenny.

“They dug up a Saxon king round here once,” I said. “Mum told me. He had his boat with him and all his valuables.”

“Oh, I do hope we don’t find a dead king,” Rosie shivered.

Fliss was looking doubtful. “This doesn’t really make sense, you know,” she said timidly. “I mean, why go to the bother of hiding valuable treasure, then put a message in a bottle telling a complete stranger where to find it?”

Frankie shrugged. “So? Smugglers are always hiding their loot in those old stories.”

I felt a shiver of excitement. “You think this note was written by smugglers?”

“Or bloodthirsty pirates, maybe?” said Kenny hopefully.

Frankie shook her head. “I don’t think pirates could usually write. I think they just signed their name with like, a mark or something.”

Rosie’s eyes were shining. “Maybe someone stole it and then it started preying on their mind, but they daren’t own up because they knew they’d be gruesomely put to death,” she suggested.

“You mean he put the clue in the bottle to ease his conscience?” I said. I thought this was an excellent theory.

Actually I started getting a bit carried
away. “He could have been like a lord’s youngest son,” I said. “But he had to steal to pay his gambling debts.”

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 Suffolk 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!