The Sleepover Club on the Farm. Sue Mongredien

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СКАЧАТЬ teeny tiny little wittle baby lambykins have a poorly mummy!” Frankie added, with a grin.

      I was about to get all indignant, but Stuart spoke before I could think of a crushing reply. “Actually, Lyndz, Mrs Mack was asking about you,” he said. “Asking if you were very busy tomorrow.”

      “No, not really,” I said in surprise. “Just a riding lesson. Why?”

      “Well, she was wondering if you might like to help out with the – what was it? – the poor little wittle baby lambykins,” he said. “She’ll have to bottle-feed them until their mum gets better and she remembered how soppy you are about baby animals so …”

      “Whoopeee!” I yelled, jumping up from the table and sending my fork flying. “Too right I’ll help out!” This great big enormous beam stretched over my face from ear to ear and I started jigging up and down in excitement. “Feeding baby lambs! Awesome!”

      Stuart grinned at me. “Oh, that’s a shame, I told her you would probably be too busy,” he said. “I know you aren’t really that keen on baby animals …”

      “WHAT?!” I yelled, stopping dead still. “Are you mad?”

      “He’s winding you up,” Dad said, patting me on the arm reassuringly. “Don’t take any notice of him.”

      “Oh! Phew! Oh!” I said, smiling again. “Stu – you pig!”

      “Talking of pigs, do you think you can finish your tea without flinging any more cutlery around?” Mum sighed. “I bet those farm animals have better table manners than you, Lyndsey Collins. Come on – the sooner you finish it off, the sooner you can phone Mrs Mack and talk about tomorrow.”

      Well, you’ve never seen anyone polish off three sausages, a pile of mash and a plate full of baked beans so quick before. No more talking – I just gobbled the lot down as if my life depended on it. But then I had to wait for everyone else to finish, and THEN I had to sit through pudding as well.

      I was too excited to eat anything else but Mum wouldn’t let me leave the table until everyone had finished eating. Manners again, you see! And that meant waiting for my little brother Ben, aged four, who’s just the slowest eater in Cuddington. First, he made a well in his mashed potato. Then he scooped up all his beans and put them in the well. Then he said he didn’t want any more and so I had to watch while Dad did the old “Open wide, here comes the choo-choo train” game to feed him mouthfuls of sausage. TYPICAL!

      At long last, Mum said we could all leave the table, and us Sleepover girls went in the living room. “Yay!” I shouted, dancing around. “Isn’t that cool about me going to bottle-feed those cute little lambs? Can you imagine?”

      “Yeah, lucky thing,” Rosie said. “I bet they’re really cuddly and sweet.”

      “That’s if they don’t have fleas, of course,” Fliss said, with a shudder. Like I told you, she’s not big on nature.

      “D’you know, I’ve never seen a real lamb before,” Kenny said. “Well, apart from one with mint sauce and gravy on it, of course.”

      “Oh, KENNY!” everyone groaned.

      “I’ve never even been on a FARM before,” Frankie said, quickly changing the subject. “What’s Mr Mackintosh’s farm like?”

      “Well, he’s got loads of cows and sheep,” I said, trying to remember. Then I had a brilliant idea. PING! Flashing lightbulb over the head! “Hey – why don’t you lot come with me? Why don’t we make it a Sleepover Club day at the farm?”

      “Yeah!” “Coo-ell!” “Wicked!” Frankie, Rosie and Kenny shouted at once. But one person was silent.

      “Fliss?” I said, turning to her. “Do you fancy it?”

      “Well …” she began.

      “I’m sure the lambs don’t have fleas,” Rosie said reassuringly. “Well, not too many anyway.”

      “And we won’t let any cows try and eat you,” Kenny said. “JOKE, Fliss!” she added quickly, as Fliss’s mouth fell open in alarm.

      “Go on, Fliss,” I urged her. “We can see the ducklings. Stuart said there are loads. And there might be some cute little chicks!”

      “Well …” she said again.

      “And if you DON’T come, we’ll tell everyone at school that you’re scared of a few titchy-witchy baby lambs,” Frankie said, raising her eyebrows threateningly.

      “All right, all right,” Fliss said at once. “And don’t be so silly – of course I’m not scared of lambs.”

      “What about big angry bulls?” Kenny said, making little horns on her head with her fingers. “Big angry bulls that come CHARGING towards you!”

      Fliss squealed and darted to the side as Kenny lowered her head and ran straight at her. “Kenny!” she squeaked. “What are you doing?”

      Kenny lowered her head again and chased Fliss around the table. “Getting you ready for our day at the farm,” she said, with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You can’t let a bull see that you’re scared of it, Fliss. They’re like dogs – they can SMELL the fear, you know. MOOOOO!”

      “Don’t take any notice of her, Fliss,” I said, pushing Kenny out of the way. “The bull won’t hurt you.”

      “Just don’t wear red,” Frankie said wamingly. “They hate red.”

      “What about navy blue?” Fliss asked at once, looking worried. “Do they hate navy blue? Because I was going to wear my blue jacket tomorrow and …”

      “Navy blue, did you say?” Rosie said. She shook her head anxiously. “Ooh, no. Bulls HATE navy blue. It sends them crazy.”

      “No, it doesn’t, Fliss, she’s teasing,” I said, as Fliss was starting to look terrified. The last thing I wanted was for her to back out of the whole thing. “Honestly, trust me, we don’t even have to go NEAR the bull. We don’t even have to look at it! Now, don’t anyone say anything else horrible to Fliss while I phone Mrs Mack. I mean it! And anyway, she might not say you lot can come at all.”

      They all went quiet at that. Ha! The power of Lyndz! I didn’t mean to be bossy but I knew that if Fliss got too flustered and scared, she’d put her foot down and wouldn’t come with us. And Fliss gets very stubborn when she wants to. I quickly dialled the farm number before anyone said anything in return.

      “Mrs Mackintosh, hello, it’s Lyndsey Collins here,” I said when she answered. “Stuart told me about the lambs – how are they?”

      “Not so bad, just missing their mummy,” she replied. “They were born a bit early so they’re quite small, and they need lots of looking after, which is why I was wondering if you’d like to help me feed them. What do you think? Could you spare a bit of time tomorrow to come over?”

      “Yes, PLEASE!” I said at once. Mrs Mack was asking me like she thought I’d be doing her a favour, when really it was going to be the best treat I’d had in ages. “But the only thing is, СКАЧАТЬ