Summer Secrets Page 4

  “Things that 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 grownups 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 in so much trouble! 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 our.

  “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. Those kids from the books 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 exciting 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 adventure 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 unu
sed. 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 supersensitive 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 on 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.”

  And we told my uncle and aunt about how we met her at a protest to save this local beauty spot. Of course, then we had to explain all about the Sleepover Club.

  Auntie Roz was really interested. “When my girls were your age, they loved having their mates over to sleep. And the things they got up to,” she grinned.

  “Don’t encourage them,” laughed Mum.

  Unfortunately, by the time we’d finished our breakfast marathon, it was practically elevenses, and Mum said we didn’t have time to stop off at the village. “We should get started now while the sun’s still shining,” she said. “It’s twenty miles to the pleasure beach at least.”

  “Don’t worry,” I whispered to the others. “There’s sure to be a hardware shop there. We can open the bottle when we get back.”

  “Aren’t we taking it, then?” Fliss whispered back.

  Kenny shook her head. “Lyndz’s mum would be bound to notice.”

  So we all rushed to grab our beach gear. Soon we were whizzing along sunny Suffolk roads with our sunglasses on and the wind in our hair.

  Mum switched the car radio on just as the DJ was playing my favourite summer tune.

  Ever have the feeling you’re in a film? Like, every silly little thing you do is on camera?

  I felt that way for almost the whole weekend, like we were starring in our own Sleepover Club video. Everything was so perfect.

  I know, I know. I was really supposed to be figuring out how to get hold of a corkscrew, so I could solve a mystery. This was not consistent behaviour.

  But I’m a twenty-first-century girl, OK? And I wanted to have fun with my mates.

  “I think you’ll find this town has all the main Sleepover Club requirements!” Mum joked, as she drove around looking for a parking space.

  She found one eventually and we all headed for the sea front.

  Everything was bright and dazzling, like the whole place had been newly painted just for us. I could actually smell fresh paint, also warm, fresh doughnuts! Tiny coloured flags riffled in the sea breeze and people whizzed about on rollerblades.

  Fliss unexpectedly produced a bubble tub from somewhere. She started to blow great shimmering streams of them, and all the little kids pointed as we passed. It was like the whole world was shouting HOLIDAY!

  We all had a long, cold drink in a café, then we spent twenty minutes exploring the shops. Well, you have to check them out, don’t you?

  “OK, is everybody ready for the beach?” Mum said when we were bored with giggling over rude postcards.

  “Er, yeah,” I said. “But could we quickly stop at a hardware shop? Kenny needs to buy something.”

  Kenny looked blank. “I do?”

  “You know! That thing!”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, that thing!”

  Mum looked annoyed. “Lyndz, I refuse to wander around a strange town, searching for a hardware store. There are perfectly good ones in Leicester.”

  “But it’ll be too late by then –” I began.

  My mates gave me warning looks.

  “Sorry, forget it,” I said hastily. “Let’s hit the beach.”

  “Yayy!” said everyone.

  Fliss sighed with relief. “I can finally work on my tan,” she said.

  We had the worst struggle putting up our beach umbrella. At one point we had to chase it along t
he beach, like some mad peppermint- striped wheel. And the whole time I was chasing it, I was secretly starring in my own Sleepover music video. I could actually hear the music playing in my head. I wasn’t being vain, I swear. I was just really really happy.

  After we’d got the umbrella firmly planted in the sand, we did the whole seaside bit. We ducked each other screaming in the sea. We stretched out on our towels and basked in the sun like sleepy seals (we slapped on heaps of sun cream, don’t worry). We munched our way happily through the yummy picnic Auntie Roz had packed for us.

  Then all at once it felt like the sun went in (which it actually hadn’t) and the soundtrack in my head went totally off-key.

  We are SO letting ourselves down, I thought. We’ve got a mysterious bottle with a message in it. Probably our one and only crack at a real adventure, and we can’t even organise a simple corkscrew. I mean, how pathetic is that?

  Mum closed her book and glanced at her watch. “Are you girls still up for the amusement park?” she said. “Phil and Roz are having a barbecue for us later, so if you want to go it’s now or never.”

  And with one voice we yelled, “NOW!”

  It’s like no one thought twice. I know I didn’t.

  Well, what would you have done? Put yourself in our shoes. You’ve got two choices, right? On the one hand, you can have a mad time with your mates, going on brilliant rides, and laughing yourself silly in the Fun House.

  And on the other hand? What exactly? Oh, yeah! A stray bottle washed up by the sea, a bottle with a piece of paper in it.

  An amusement park is like, a sure thing. But our message in the bottle was a totally unknown quantity. For all we knew, that piece of old paper could be blank. And like Dad says, a bird in the hand is worth two in the whatever.

  We scrambled out of our sandy swimsuits, doing all those embarrassing manoeuvres with beach towels. And after we’d stowed our beach gear in the car. Mum took us to this really mega amusements place, where we had an ace time.

  We played the machines and blew loads of money. We yelled our heads off on the big wheel. We shrieked on the swing boats until we were hoarse. And on the ghost train we screamed so loud, my eardrums will probably never recover. Finally we went on a ride called the Corkscrew (yes, really!) and I was so terrified, I truly thought I’d DIE!!