Mega Sleepover 4 Read online

  So now you know all about our tenth birthday sleepover party! Come on, I’ll race you to Frankie’s! She’s going to be so mad when she finds out that I’ve already told you all about it. But too much talking would only have made her sore throat worse! I reckon she only got it because she shrieked so much over that stupid doll. I wonder if she’s figured out who gave it to her yet. I think I might have worked out who gave everybody their presents but I’m not completely sure. What do you think?

  Come on! Last one to Frankie’s is a pile of slime!

  Hi there. Do you want to come and see the horses with me? That’s where I’m going now. Look, I know you’re thinking, Lyndz is going to bore us with all that dreary stable stuff! The rest of the Sleepover Club used to think that as well. And tut and sigh and make neighing noises. But not any more. Not after our latest adventure. In fact, they’re coming to see the horses too. I’m going to meet them there – honest!

  I haven’t told you before, but I have a riding lesson once a week and I help out at the local stables whenever I can. I don’t talk about it too much in front of the others because they start getting bored and yawn a lot. Still, when you hear about their riding experiences, it’s not surprising really. Take Fliss for a start.

  Whenever I even mention mucking out, she puts her hands over her ears and starts squealing. She’s far too anxious about staying clean and tidy to get involved in things like that! Actually I enjoy all those bits – the mucking out and the grooming – almost as much as the riding. You feel kind of close to the horses and they smell all sort of sweet and leathery and warm.

  Sorry, there I go again! Where was I? Oh yes, Fliss. She can be a bit of a wimp sometimes and she actually admits that she’s frightened of horses. I suppose I can sort of understand that – they are kind of big. But they’re just so gentle! Even Fliss understands that now, but boy did she find out the hard way! I think we all feel a bit guilty about what happened, but she’s OK now.

  Frankie is more sensible. She went for riding lessons with Kenny once. Can you imagine that? Kenny on a horse acting the fool and pretending to be a cowboy! It was all “Yee-ha!” and “Hi Ho, Silver!”

  You know Kenny: she always wants to do everything as fast as she can. She expected to be out hacking on her first lesson and jumping fences by her second. She just didn’t realise that riding isn’t like that. It’s all about communicating with the horse. You and the horse have to work as a team. Riding is very hard work. And Kenny doesn’t like hard work at the best of times. So she gave up.

  Frankie lasted a bit longer, but you could tell that she wasn’t in love with horses in the way I am. I think you really do have to love them to want to work at getting everything right. You have so much to think about – squeezing your legs here, holding the reins there, sitting just so. It’s not just about trotting along and looking pretty. Which is just as well because I never look pretty.

  That’s what my four stupid brothers tell me anyway. Even Spike, and he’s only a baby!

  Rosie is the fifth member of the Sleepover Club and she didn’t take to riding either. She went along after her brother, Adam, started. You rememer Adam, don’t you? He’s a year older than Rosie and has cerebral palsy. Riding is a form of therapy for him. He started going once a week with his school and when his mum realised how much it was helping him, she arranged for him to go with two of his friends on another afternoon.

  He rides at the same stables as me. Mrs McAllister, who owns it, is a qualified instructor for the Riding for the Disabled Association. She’s brilliant because as well as knowing everything there is to know about horses, she knows exactly what kind of horse someone like Adam needs to ride. She says that a little pony like Bramble would have too choppy a stride, so he goes on Marvel, who is a chestnut mare. Her walk is much smoother, but Adam still has to squeeze his legs very hard to make her obey his commands. And when you think about it that’s really tough for Adam because he spends all day in a wheelchair so he’s not using his leg muscles at all. Just balancing on Marvel gives him a really tough workout.

  Crikey, I sound like some kind of doctor, don’t I? Kenny would be proud of me!

  Adam was so thrilled about riding Marvel, he told Rosie all about it. Of course, she wanted to have a go then. She was put on Alfie, the most gorgeous bay with a white star on his forehead and eyelashes to die for, but poor Rosie just couldn’t get it together at all. First she had trouble mounting him, then her legs wouldn’t stay in the right position in the stirrups. And Alfie just did his own thing, no matter what Rosie tried to tell him to do. In the end she told her mum that riding wasn’t for her and she never went again.

  I bet you’re wondering what this has to do with our latest adventure, aren’t you? Well, quite a lot actually – come with me to the stables and I’ll tell you all about it on the way.

  It started when we were round at Rosie’s one afternoon after school. We were working on some dumb geography project.

  “I don’t know why Mrs Weaver doesn’t just send us all on holiday if she wants us to find out about other countries,” snarled Kenny, stuffing yet another chocolate biscuit into her mouth.

  “Yes, I wouldn’t mind a week on the beach in Barbados,” sighed Frankie.

  “Or a trip to Disneyland!” yelled Fliss.

  “That’s not a country, stupid!” laughed Kenny.

  “I know that, smartypants!” snapped Fliss. “I’ve been to EuroDisney. I’d just like to go to Disneyland in America to see if it’s any different, that’s all!”

  “Ooh! Hark at her!” we all screeched together, pulling faces at each other.

  Fliss hates it when we make fun of her, even though she usually deserves it. She flung her pencil case at Kenny and all her felt pens sort of burst out, scattering around the kitchen. We all creased up and scrambled on to the floor to pick them up. We were scrabbling about under the table, when we heard the front door close.

  “That’ll be Mum and Adam,” said Rosie.

  We waited for Adam to burst into the kitchen in his wheelchair like he usually did. But he didn’t. All we could hear were lots of strange wailing sounds coming from the hall.

  “Oh no!” gasped Rosie. “That’s Adam. It sounds like he’s really upset about something.”

  We rushed into the hall to see what was wrong. Rosie’s mum was crouched over Adam, trying to calm him down, but we could tell just by looking at him that something awful had happened.

  “What is it, Mum? What’s wrong?” asked Rosie anxiously. “Is Adam OK?”

  Her mum nodded, but carried on stroking Adam’s arm. “He’s just heard some bad news,” she said softly.

  “What sort of bad news?” shrieked Rosie. She’d gone completely white and her eyes looked as though they were going to burst out of her head. The rest of us sort of hung back in case it was a private thing.

  “We’ve just heard that there’s been a very bad fire at the riding school,” said Rosie’s mum.

  “Oh no!” I gasped. For a minute I felt as though I couldn’t breathe. I sat down on the stairs. “What happened? Are the horses safe?” I asked. My voice sounded kind of wobbly. It didn’t sound like my voice at all.

  “Yes, Lyndz, the horses were in the fields when it happened. And they’re all perfectly safe.”

  “What about Mrs McAllister, is she all right?” asked Frankie.

  “Yes, everyone is fine, thank goodness,” sighed Mrs Cartwright. “It could have been much worse. Just imagine what would have happened if the horses had been in the stables when the fire started.”

  I didn’t want to imagine that. All I could think of was Marvel and Alfie and Bramble and all the other beautiful horses. What was going to happen to them now? It felt like the worst day of my life.

  When Rosie’s mum had taken Adam upstairs for his bath, we went back into the kitchen. It was as though a huge grey blanket of sadness had been dropped on top of us. Nobody spoke for ages.

  “There must be something we can do to help,” I said sudd
enly. I couldn’t bear the silence any longer and just thinking that we could be useful in some way made me feel a bit better. “Let’s go to the stables and see what we can do.”

  “Shouldn’t we call Mrs McAllister first?” asked Fliss. “Maybe she won’t want anyone there.”

  “Fliss is right,” agreed Frankie. “Why don’t you ring Mrs McAllister when you get home, Lyndz, and if she wants us to help, we’ll all come to the stables with you later in the week, won’t we?”

  Everyone nodded. Everyone except Fliss.

  “You’ll come and help too, won’t you, Fliss?” Frankie dug her hard in the ribs.

  “Ouch! I suppose so. But I don’t want to go anywhere near the horses,” said Fliss, rubbing her side.

  “OK, that’s agreed. You check things with Mrs McAllister, Lyndz. Then it’s the Sleepover Club to the rescue!” laughed Kenny and pretended to play a fanfare.

  We all laughed too. It sounded like one of our silly jokes. Only this time it was real.

  “Well, what did she say?” The others crowded round me when I got to school the next day.

  “Who?” I pretended to look blank, but I couldn’t fool them.

  “Mrs McAllister of course! Come on, Lyndz. Spill!” commanded Frankie.

  “Mum rang her for me,” I admitted. “She thought that Mrs McAllister might be in a state of shock.”

  Kenny’s eyes lit up at the thought of some medical-type complaint to deal with.

  “And was she?” she asked eagerly.

  “Nope, it sounded like she was very calm actually,” I said.

  Kenny looked disappointed.

  “When did the fire start?” asked Frankie, getting down to serious matters.

  “Quite early in the morning. The horses were in the fields and Mrs McAllister had gone to check on them,” I explained. “She said that something caught her eye. She looked up and saw smoke coming from the stable block. She ran back to see what was happening, but when she got there, three of the stables had burnt completely and the roofs on the others were still burning. She called the fire brigade, grabbed the fire extinguishers, and put out what she could.”

  “But what caused the fire to start in the first place?” asked Fliss.

  “Mrs McAllister doesn’t know for sure. She thinks a delivery man must have dropped a cigarette,” I told them. “There are huge ‘No Smoking’ signs all around the stables – how could anyone be so careless?” I looked round and realised that for once I had everyone’s attention. And knowing the Sleepover Club you realise what a miracle that is. We usually all chatter at once.

  “Do you think someone did it on purpose?” asked Kenny suddenly. “Someone might want to get rid of the riding school! Maybe the owner of a rival stables is trying to close down all the competition so everyone will have to go to them for riding lessons.”

  Uh-oh! Kenny was on one of her fantasy trips again.

  “Get real!” laughed Frankie. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we live in Cuddington, not Hollywood. Things like that don’t happen around here.”

  The others started to laugh and tease Kenny.

  “Hey, Lyndz, are you all right?” asked Rosie. “You’ve gone very quiet.”

  I’d tried to be bright and happy and everything. But I kept thinking of something else that mum had said last night. She’d asked Mrs McAllister where the horses were being kept.

  “On Mr Brocklehurst’s farm – for the moment,” she’d told her.

  That was great news for me, because my brother, Stuart, helps out there. And the horses have always grazed in some of Mr Brocklehurst’s fields anyway.

  “Aw, we could have had some of the horses to stay here in our garden!” I’d said. Wouldn’t that have been great? We’ve got a huge garden and I’d have looked after them ever so well.

  “They might have to live in someone’s garden if what Mrs McAllister says is true,” Mum had told me. “She says that rebuilding the stables is going to cost thousands of pounds – she just doesn’t have that kind of money and only some of it is covered by insurance. She needs the horses settled before winter, so it looks like she might have to close down the riding school and sell the horses.”

  I had been so upset that I’d hardly slept. And I nearly started crying when I told the others.

  “But what about Adam?” Rosie blurted out. “He was upset enough about the fire. I don’t know how he’ll cope if he can’t ride any more.”

  “Mrs McAllister’s going to carry on with her lessons for the moment,” I told her. “The practice ring wasn’t damaged and it’s right next to the farm so the horses can get there easily.”

  “Are there any other stables nearby?” Fliss asked.

  “None that do Riding for the Disabled,” Rosie said. “Mum’s already asked.”

  “I don’t want to go to another stables. I want to go to that one!” I shouted. The others looked shocked. They’re not used to seeing me get upset. But then, nothing has ever threatened the horses before.

  “OK, OK, calm down.” Frankie took control, as usual. “I’m sure there’s something we can do.”

  But before we could come up with a plan, the bell went for the start of school.

  “Right you lot, this is Operation Horseback!” shouted Frankie in her Sergeant-Major voice. “Rendez-vous here at 10.30 hours (that means first break, dummies). And get your brains into gear for a plan of action. Right you ’orrible lot. Quick march – left, right, left, right…” and we all marched into the classroom.

  We would have marched right to our chairs, but Mrs Weaver gave us one of her looks. Sometimes she has no sense of humour. I think she must have had one of her headaches.

  I tried to concentrate on my work but I couldn’t. I just had to think of a way to save Mrs McAllister’s riding school. Every time I looked across at Rosie she seemed to be deep in thought, too. Fliss was staring into space a lot, but I think that was just because she couldn’t understand the maths we were doing.

  At first break we all met up in the playground.

  “Any ideas?” asked Frankie.

  We all shook our heads.

  “If we were on one of those dumb TV programmes, we’d rebuild the stables ourselves!” she sighed. “But I can’t see us being much good at that.”

  “It’s a pity they don’t have a Stable Building badge in Brownies. We could have done it for that!” laughed Kenny. She jumped on Frankie’s back and pretended to ride her round the playground.

  “No horseplay, girls! Someone will get hurt!” shouted out Mrs Daniels.

  Frankie had a fit of the giggles. “Horseplay!” she screamed. “Horseplay!”

  She was laughing so much that Kenny couldn’t hold on and fell to the ground. But she was laughing too, so it didn’t matter.

  “I bet Danny-Boy didn’t even say it on purpose,” Kenny snorted. “She’s had a sense of humour bypass that woman!”

  “We don’t have to actually build the stables, do we?” said Fliss, suddenly concerned.

  “What?” asked the rest of us together.

  “Talk about a sense of humour bypass, Fliss – were you operated on too?” asked Kenny.

  “No, stupid!” said Fliss going pink. “What I meant was, it’s not building the stables that’s the problem, is it? You said that Mrs McAllister doesn’t have any money. So really we should try to find her someone who has.”

  “Right, Fliss. I’ll just write to the Queen shall I?” said Kenny. “Dear Queenie, the stables where our friends ride have been burnt down. Please send us lots of money so that we can build some more. Lots of love, the Sleepover Club. That should do the trick, shouldn’t it? Ten pound notes will be falling through the letter box in no time!”

  “Ha, ha, ha!” said Fliss, going pinker than ever. “That’s not what I meant, but there must be someone who can help.”

  “Fliss is right,” said Frankie. “Why don’t we think of ways to raise money?”

  “But we’d never raise enough!” said Fliss.

&nb
sp; “That’s not the point,” said Frankie firmly.

  “Every little helps. I’m sure there are lots of people who don’t know that the stables have burnt down. If we can ‘raise people’s awareness’, as Mum says, maybe they’ll make a donation and Mrs McAllister will get enough money to rebuild her stables.”

  Suddenly I felt cheerful again. It really seemed as though we could make a difference. And more importantly, it looked as though Alfie, Bramble and Marvel wouldn’t have to be sold to someone else.

  “I’m going to the farm after school tomorrow,” I told the others. “I’ll tell Mrs McAllister that we’re going to help. I’m sure she’ll be pleased.”

  “We’ll all come with you, Lyndz,” said Frankie. “If the Sleepover Club are going to the rescue, we really should find out what we’re rescuing!”

  “Yeah!” shouted Kenny and Rosie, doing high fives.

  “Are you coming too?” I asked Fliss. She was being very quiet and I knew she wasn’t wild about horses. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

  “Of course I am!” she said crossly. “You’re not leaving me out!”

  So we arranged to meet at Mr Brocklehurst’s farm after school the next day. It seemed like such a good idea at the time. We should have realised then that Fliss and horses really don’t mix!

  I was really excited about going to Mr Brocklehurst’s farm the next day, but I was kind of nervous too. I hadn’t seen the horses since the fire you see. What if they’d changed? What if they were really spooked by what had happened and wouldn’t let anyone near them?

  “Are you sure the horses are all right?” I asked Stuart, as Dad drove us to the farm.

  “For the hundredth time, Lyndz, they’re fine,” Stuart replied.

  That made me feel a bit better, but butterflies were still flapping about inside my tummy. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s just because I love those horses more than anything else in the world and I was worried that they’d be feeling frightened because their routine had changed. Horses are creatures of habit you see.