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“How can she spoil it when it already looks like an old dishcloth?” asked Frankie. I strutted around the kitchen as though I was modelling an expensive ball-gown in a fashion show.
Then the others went into Delia Smith mode. (I’m not going to bore you with all the details. Baking a cake isn’t the most exciting thing in the world. I’ll just give you ‘Kenny’s edited highlights’ of the afternoon, which is all you really need to know.)
After the others had weighed out the butter and sugar and put them into a bowl, Lyndz asked her mum if we could use the electric whisk.
“Yes, but be careful. Are your hands dry?” She felt all our hands. “OK. Turn it on at the mains, then turn the whisk on gently to start with and keep the beaters in the bowl. Whilst one of you does that, someone else can be breaking those two eggs into a bowl. Careful not to let any shells in. When you’ve done that give them a good whizz together with a fork. Now that’s you lot sorted, you haven’t seen Spike anywhere have you?”
Spike is Lyndz’s baby brother. I think even I would have noticed if a baby had been crawling around the kitchen floor.
“Let me have a go! Please can I use the whisk?” begged Fliss.
“What are you like Fliss?” asked Frankie. “Is using an electric whisk the biggest thrill of your life?”
Fliss does tend to get a bit excited about weird stuff like whisks!
“This is cool!” she laughed.
Lyndz’s mum disappeared again on the track of Spike. It’s usually quite easy to find him: you just follow the trail of biscuit crumbs.
I was getting a bit bored. Fliss looked very serious. The temptation was too much. I sneaked up behind her and, yelling “Gotcha!”, I tickled her under the arms. Fliss jumped a mile and forgot that she was holding the whisk. She lifted it out of the bowl and mixture flew everywhere.
“Turn it off!” yelled Frankie, who almost dropped the bowl of eggs she was beating.
“I can’t!” shouted Fliss who seemed to have completely lost control.
The whisk suddenly stopped whizzing. Lyndz had turned it off at the mains.
“You stupid idiot!” yelled Fliss, turning on me.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know that was going to happen.”
We looked round the kitchen. Everything was covered in tiny splatters of creamed sugar and butter.
“We ought to try and clean some of this up before your mum comes back,” said Frankie. She grabbed a dishcloth and started to wipe up the worst of the mess. The rest of us grabbed kitchen roll and started to do the same. I couldn’t help grinning to myself: an electric whisk was a pretty cool weapon.
By the time Lyndz’s mum reappeared, the worst of the mess was gone and the others were dropping tiny bits of egg into the mixture and giving it a good stir. Yawn, yawn, how boring!
Next we sieved the flour. I hadn’t helped with the baking at all so Frankie made me hold the sieve. She said that even I couldn’t get that wrong. And it really wasn’t my fault when I covered everyone in flour. It was Spike’s! He charged right into me and the sieve flew out of my hand. It was like a snowstorm! Fortunately Lyndz’s mum knew it wasn’t my fault.
But that didn’t stop the others from having a go at me – especially Fliss. Her hair was covered in flour. She looked like someone’s granny!
“If you’re not doing anything Kenny,” said Frankie, “you might as well make a start on the washing-up!” Charming!
“Right sir!” I shouted like a soldier and saluted to her. Frankie grinned.
I was up to my elbows in dirty dishes and bubbles when Lyndz’s brother Ben appeared. I didn’t see him dropping pieces of Lego into the cake mixture. I didn’t see him trying to feed it to Buster, the dog. But I did feel it on the back of my neck when he threw a handful at me.
“Oi! What are you doing you horror?” I shouted.
The others were already yelling and fishing the Lego out of the cake. They were not happy bunnies.
“Go to Mum!” Lyndz shouted. Even she can lose her cool sometimes.
The last thing we had to do was pour the mixture into the two tins. That was not as easy as it sounds, but we managed it in the end. And Buster ate all the dollops that fell onto the floor, so they didn’t really matter.
“Mum! We’re ready to put them into the oven now!” yelled Lyndz. She’s another who could be a sergeant major!
Stuart appeared.
“Mum says I’ve to put them into the oven for you,” he said. He stuck his finger into one of the tins. “Hmm. Not bad!”
“Aw Stuart!” moaned Lyndz. “We took ages smoothing the top of that. Now we’ll have to do it again.”
“Well hurry up,” grumbled her brother. “I’ve got to leave for the farm in a minute.”
“Be careful they don’t mistake you for one of the pigs, won’t you!” laughed Lyndz.
“Ha, ha!” said Stuart. “Do you want these in the oven or not?” He took the tins from Lyndz and put them on the middle shelf in the oven.
“Save me a bit of cake won’t you?” he called as he left. “I did play a vital role in making it!”
We ignored him.
“The recipe book says ‘25–30 minutes cooking time’,” read out Lyndz. “Who can remember that? What time is it now?” Lyndz is hopeless at telling the time, so we all looked at our own watches.
“Ten past four,” we all said together.
“So we should look at the cake at twenty-five to five then,” said Frankie.
Lyndz looked very confused, but the rest of us agreed.
When we’d finished the rest of the washing-up and had cleared away, we messed about with Spike and Ben. Then we went out into the garden.
“How’s your cake doing?” Mrs Collins called out to us. We all looked at each other. The cake! We’d forgotten all about it! It was almost ten to five. We raced inside. The kitchen was filled with sort of a thick, not quite a burnt smell.
“Quick! Mum! We’ll have to get the cakes out now!” yelled Lyndz.
“Don’t panic!” laughed her mum, opening the oven door. “There now. They look great!”
They didn’t look great exactly. But they didn’t look too bad. And when they’d cooled and we’d sandwiched them together with jam and put icing on top, the birthday cake looked all right.
We all shared the icing bit. It read:
Now we were all set for the party.
(#ulink_c31405ee-c591-544c-93ce-4a74a8610476)
I woke up really early on Saturday morning. It wasn’t just excitement that woke me, it was something else as well – rain. It was pouring down. Not only that, but it was windy too. I couldn’t believe it! Until then every day had been warm and sunny. Now it felt more like November than the middle of July! Miserable or what?
“Your stupid sleepover party’s going to be a bit of a washout. What a pity!” laughed Molly-the-Monster peeping out from her duvet.
“Shut up!” I yelled and hit her with my pillow. She’s only jealous because I go to more sleepovers than she does.
“Ouch! That hurt!” she screamed and thwacked me with her own pillow. “At least I’ll be able to get some peace and quiet in my own room tonight.”
I wish that we lived in a house like Rosie’s, then I could have my own bedroom. I hate sharing a room with Monster Features.
The rain didn’t stop all day. I kept looking out of the window to check. By 4.30pm it was raining so heavily that I expected to see Noah floating past the house in his ark!
“Looks like you’re going to have a wet one, love!” said Mum as I climbed into her car. “You have packed enough warm things, haven’t you?”
“Yes Mum!” I sighed, as I pinned on my ‘Happy Tenth Birthday Sleepover Club’ badge. She’d asked me that about a thousand times already.
We usually walk to sleepovers, especially in the summer. We don’t live very far from each other, as you know. But seeing as it was so wet, mum had arranged to give Frankie a lift to Rosie’s. Lyndz and Fliss were going together.
“Poor Rosie,” said Frankie as she got into the car. “I bet she hadn’t planned for rain.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “ Now the timetable probably says ‘Come in and drip in the hallway until 5.01pm, remove raincoats until 5.02pm, then water sports in the garden until 5.37 precisely’.”
Frankie and I both giggled.
“I hope you’re not being unkind, Laura McKenzie,” said Mum. “I think Rosie sounds like a very organised young lady, and it wouldn’t do you any harm to take a leaf out of her book!”
“Aw, Mum!” I groaned. “It’s so boring!”
We pulled up outside Rosie’s house. Two pathetic balloons were dangling from the gate. They made me feel a bit sad.
“Oh no!” gasped Frankie. “It’s 5.02pm. We’re late!” I put my hand to my forehead in mock despair.
“Oh no! How could we be so irresponsible?” I cried. “Rosie will never forgive us!”
“Now girls,” warned mum quite sternly. “Don’t go upsetting Rosie. Oh look, here come Lyndz and Fliss.”
Lyndz’s dad drew up in his large van and Lyndz and Fliss leapt out.
“We’re late!” they both shouted and we all laughed. We were all wearing our special badges and we felt pretty cool.
We started walking up the path and a huge gust of wind hit us. It lifted Fliss so far off the ground that she looked as though she was flying!
“I always knew you were a witch Fliss!” I laughed.
“You’re too skinny,” said Lyndz digging her in the ribs. “You need building up.”
Fliss looked a bit flustered, then kept saying, “Did you see me fly? I actually got right off the ground. Did you see?”
Frankie and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. We would never hear the end of it now!
When we got to Rosie’s front door, there was a soggy piece of paper stuck to it. It said ‘TIMETABLE’ in smudged ink. The first item – ‘Outdoor Games’ – had been crossed out.
“Oh dear!” muttered Frankie.
Rosie came to the door, even before we’d knocked.
“Sorry we’re late,” we all said together.
“Doesn’t matter,” mumbled Rosie. “You’d better come in.”
It was almost as gloomy inside the house as it was outside.
“Hi Adam!” I called, seeing Rosie’s brother in the hall. He just nodded. You remember Adam don’t you? He’s got cerebral palsy, and is in a wheelchair. He’s got a wicked sense of humour and he’s usually heaps of fun. Not on Saturday he wasn’t. He just sulked in a corner and looked miserable.
“What’s up with him?” I asked Rosie as we went up to her bedroom.
“Dad promised to take him fishing, but he had to cancel. He had a big job to finish or something.” Rosie sounded miserable too.
We all looked anxiously at each other behind Rosie’s back. Somehow this wasn’t turning out to be the fun birthday party we’d expected.
“Where shall we put our presents?” asked Fliss.
“There’s a big sack in the room next to the bathroom. I’ve put mine in it already. If the rest of you put yours in, mum said I could lock the door and then get the presents out again at bedtime,” explained Rosie.
“Cool!”
We’d all arranged to wrap our presents in brown paper so that they would all look similar. We sneaked out of Rosie’s bedroom separately and put the presents in the sack. When it was my turn I had a feel at the ones that were already in there. They all felt very interesting, but I couldn’t tell what anything was. I couldn’t find mine either!
When we had all put our presents in the sack, Rosie locked the door and put the key under her pillow.
“Right then Batman. What have you got planned instead of outdoor games?” I asked Rosie.
“Well, I haven’t really,” she muttered.
“What! Nothing planned?” I shrieked. “That’s outrageous! We expect better of you Miss Cartwright! Don’t we girls!” The others looked very serious and nodded.
Rosie began to smile.
“Well I thought maybe we could play ‘Hide and Seek’,” she said quietly. “If that’s alright with you.”
“Cool!”
“Wicked!”
“Brill!”
Rosie looked happy again. Then Tiffany, her sister, burst into the room.
“I hope you lot aren’t going to be noisy all afternoon!” she snapped.
Noisy? That wasn’t noisy! She hadn’t heard anything yet! Her boyfriend, Spud, appeared in the doorway behind her.
