Read Online Tthe Sleepover Club on the Beach by Angie Bates - Free Book Online
Authors: Angie Bates
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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 carriedaway. “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 saucersetcetera, 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 Frankiereally 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,
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 carriedaway. “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 saucersetcetera, 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 Frankiereally 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,
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