Frankie, straight into Lyndz’s face.
“Hey!” she grumbled, shading her eyes.
At last, when the luminous hands on my watch said a quarter to midnight, I thought we were pretty safe. We rolled out of bed, pulled sweatshirts and jeans on over our pyjamas, and stuffed our feet into our trainers. Then, opening the door really slowly so that it wouldn’t squeak, we crept out on to the landing.
“Torches off,” I whispered. “Don’t take any chances.”
There was just enough of a dim glow slanting through the landing window for us to make it down the stairs without falling over each other.
“Which window are we heading for again?” hissed Lyndz behind me.
“The little one in the kitchen,” I whispered.
Downstairs, we crossed the hallway and made it as far as the kitchen door. It was shut.
“This is creepy,” breathed Rosie. “Someone might be in there.”
“Shhh!” said Frankie.
I put my hand on the doorknob and turnedit slowly. As the door opened, I clicked on my torch – I didn’t dare switch on the main light.
“OK, I’ll go first,” I whispered.
The kitchen window was fairly small and hinged at the side. I turned the handle on the latch and pushed it open. Then I sat on the sill and folded first one leg through, then the other. Jumping down into the flowerbed, I turned and whispered, “Easy!”
Lyndz was next. She got one leg through and then stopped. Her head was wedged at a funny angle. I could see she was trying to get the other leg up to the sill, but somehow there wasn’t room.
“Oh help – I’m stuck!” she whispered.
You know that bit in Winnie the Pooh when he gets stuck in the rabbit hole and has to stay there for days? I was worried that that was how it was going to be with Lyndz. I could just imagine the teachers coming down to breakfast in the morning and finding her wedged in the kitchen window.
“Push her from behind!” I hissed to the others.
“Ouch!” squealed Lyndz.
“Shhh!”
In the end, I had to push Lyndz backwards into the kitchen again. She came through the next time head first and landed in a heap in the flowerbed.
“Oh no! I think I’ve crushed the biscuits!” she said, dusting herself down.
A minute later, the whole gang had made it through. Frankie carefully left the window ajar, so that we’d be able to get back the same way, and we set off, creeping across the lawn to find a good feasting place.
We needed a spot that was hidden from the house, so that we wouldn’t be the first thing anyone spied if they happened to look out of their bedroom window.
“Behind those trees?” hissed Rosie, nodding towards the far end of the garden nearest the road.
Frankie shook her head. “I checked it outearlier,” she said. “The space between the trees and the fence is really narrow. It’s got lots of old crisp packets, too, that people walking by have chucked over.”
“Yuck,” said Fliss.
“What about there?” I whispered, shining my torch beam towards a clump of bushes over on our right. “Is there any grass on the other side?”
Frankie shrugged.
“Wait here, team, I’ll go and investigate,” I said. Trying to be light on my feet, I ran across to the bushes. Behind them there was a flat and comfy-looking patch of grass – perfect! I held my torch under my chin, so that it lit up my face, and grinned and nodded at the others. They came scampering over.
I reckon it was one of the best midnight feasts the Sleepover Club has ever had. We sat down on the grass in a circle, put our torches in the middle, and got down to munching crushed biscuits (Lyndz’s), half-melted chocolate (Rosie’s),plus a whole pile of sherbet sweets, liquorice laces and jelly babies that Frankie, Fliss and I had brought from home.
“You can hear the sea – listen!” whispered Frankie.
“And look at all these stars,” said Rosie, flopping on to her back. “There are loads more here than in Cuddington.”
“There can’t be more,” I said, lying down
“Hey!” she grumbled, shading her eyes.
At last, when the luminous hands on my watch said a quarter to midnight, I thought we were pretty safe. We rolled out of bed, pulled sweatshirts and jeans on over our pyjamas, and stuffed our feet into our trainers. Then, opening the door really slowly so that it wouldn’t squeak, we crept out on to the landing.
“Torches off,” I whispered. “Don’t take any chances.”
There was just enough of a dim glow slanting through the landing window for us to make it down the stairs without falling over each other.
“Which window are we heading for again?” hissed Lyndz behind me.
“The little one in the kitchen,” I whispered.
Downstairs, we crossed the hallway and made it as far as the kitchen door. It was shut.
“This is creepy,” breathed Rosie. “Someone might be in there.”
“Shhh!” said Frankie.
I put my hand on the doorknob and turnedit slowly. As the door opened, I clicked on my torch – I didn’t dare switch on the main light.
“OK, I’ll go first,” I whispered.
The kitchen window was fairly small and hinged at the side. I turned the handle on the latch and pushed it open. Then I sat on the sill and folded first one leg through, then the other. Jumping down into the flowerbed, I turned and whispered, “Easy!”
Lyndz was next. She got one leg through and then stopped. Her head was wedged at a funny angle. I could see she was trying to get the other leg up to the sill, but somehow there wasn’t room.
“Oh help – I’m stuck!” she whispered.
You know that bit in Winnie the Pooh when he gets stuck in the rabbit hole and has to stay there for days? I was worried that that was how it was going to be with Lyndz. I could just imagine the teachers coming down to breakfast in the morning and finding her wedged in the kitchen window.
“Push her from behind!” I hissed to the others.
“Ouch!” squealed Lyndz.
“Shhh!”
In the end, I had to push Lyndz backwards into the kitchen again. She came through the next time head first and landed in a heap in the flowerbed.
“Oh no! I think I’ve crushed the biscuits!” she said, dusting herself down.
A minute later, the whole gang had made it through. Frankie carefully left the window ajar, so that we’d be able to get back the same way, and we set off, creeping across the lawn to find a good feasting place.
We needed a spot that was hidden from the house, so that we wouldn’t be the first thing anyone spied if they happened to look out of their bedroom window.
“Behind those trees?” hissed Rosie, nodding towards the far end of the garden nearest the road.
Frankie shook her head. “I checked it outearlier,” she said. “The space between the trees and the fence is really narrow. It’s got lots of old crisp packets, too, that people walking by have chucked over.”
“Yuck,” said Fliss.
“What about there?” I whispered, shining my torch beam towards a clump of bushes over on our right. “Is there any grass on the other side?”
Frankie shrugged.
“Wait here, team, I’ll go and investigate,” I said. Trying to be light on my feet, I ran across to the bushes. Behind them there was a flat and comfy-looking patch of grass – perfect! I held my torch under my chin, so that it lit up my face, and grinned and nodded at the others. They came scampering over.
I reckon it was one of the best midnight feasts the Sleepover Club has ever had. We sat down on the grass in a circle, put our torches in the middle, and got down to munching crushed biscuits (Lyndz’s), half-melted chocolate (Rosie’s),plus a whole pile of sherbet sweets, liquorice laces and jelly babies that Frankie, Fliss and I had brought from home.
“You can hear the sea – listen!” whispered Frankie.
“And look at all these stars,” said Rosie, flopping on to her back. “There are loads more here than in Cuddington.”
“There can’t be more,” I said, lying down
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