Read Online Sleepover Club Blitz by Angie Bates - Free Book Online

Aaah! Pure bliss.
    After my bath, I put on some comfy clothes and went in search of a nice little snack. Then I curled up on the sofa with the TV remote and my knitting. Since our trip back in time, we’re all totally nuts about knitting!
    As you can imagine, I was seeing my mod cons in a whole new light. There’s a lot wrong with the twenty-first century, I thought contentedly. But it’s MY century, and it rocks!
    Before I went to bed, I folded up my 1940s clothes. When I got to the coat, I felt something rustle inside the pocket. It was my evacuee luggage label. I traced my finger around the letters of my Second World War name. “Nice knowing you, Audrey,” I murmured.
    I put on my nightie and cuddled down under my duvet. The friendly glow of a street-lamp peeked between my curtains. I could hear Mum and Tiff downstairs, laughing at the TV.
    Wow, I thought. I have such a great life! I don’t have to worry about bombs or blackouts, or food rationing.
    Not many people get a chance to be a completely different person for a whole weekend. Probably even fewer people get to travel back in time.
    I badly wanted to say a special thank you to Iris and Edith for giving us such an amazing experience. But all I could think of was flowers, which was WAY too corny.
    Hang on, I thought suddenly. I won the competition! Why don’t I hand this problem over to the others, and get a good night’s sleep?
    So I did!!

I don’t mean to get personal, but I bet there’s times when you toss and turn worrying about like,
everything
in the universe. Am I right?
    Well, here’s some advice from Auntie Rosie. Get yourself down to Iris and Edith’s WW2 time-capsule house, right now! I’m not saying I’m totally cured, but since my weekend with the Blitz sisters, I have practically resigned from my post as chief Sleepover Club worry-wart. And believe it or not, this laid-back approach WORKS!
    Once I’d have stayed awake all night, brainstorming ideas for a special thank-you present for the Blitz sisters. Instead, I caught some serious Zs. And when I woke up, I didn’t just feel wonderfully rested, I felt totally serene! I floated happily through the house saying, “Hello lovely Cartwright family members!”, “Hello TV!”, “Hello, comfy clothes, soft furnishings and friendly central heating radiators!”
    Then it dawned on me. Since my weekend as Audrey Harris, all my old Rosie-type worries had just like, VANISHED!
    Here’s a typical old-style R.C. worry. “Oh, woe! Will my lovely hard-working mum ever get together with anyone in this lifetime? Or will she just be this lonely single person for ever and ever?”
    Don’t tell the others (it’s kind of private), but I used to fret about this sort of stuff non-stop. It’s SO-O tiring, like holding up the sky all by your lonesome. But that morning I just KNEW that none of these worries could COMPARE with the spine-chilling horror of looking up and seeing a sinister plane overhead, just about to drop bombs on everyone I love…
    I went off to school, thinking my new improved thoughts, catching up with the others at the gate. To my surprise, Fliss was glowing with excitement.
    It turned out,
she’d
been wondering how to thank the Blitz sisters, too. But guess what? Fliss had also come up with the perfect solution!
    “But I can’t tell you yet,” she said apologetically. “I’m not being funny, OK? I’ve just got to clear it with Miss Pearson first.”
    Fliss and Miss Pearson whispered in a corner for AGES, while we looked on, dying of curiosity. Then the plot REALLY thickened, because Miss Pearson suddenly announced that she was excusing Fliss from class for “a very special mission”.
    Fliss trotted off, looking incredibly self-conscious. She didn’t appear again until lunch break.
    “Come on, spill those beans!” Frankie commanded, as Fliss joined us at our table.
    Fliss glanced round cautiously. “Not here, OK!” she hissed.
    “Spies at ten o’clock,” muttered