Angela Nicely (6 page)

Chapter 3

After a quick shower they hurried down for lunch. Angela was so hungry she thought she could eat three whole bowls of spaghetti. She sat down. A waitress set down two plates in front of them.

Angela stared at her plate. Three tiny slices of beetroot sat on a bed of shredded carrot.

“I can’t eat this!” cried Angela. “I hate beetroot!”

“Don’t be so fussy,” said her mum. “It’s good for you.”

Angela chewed a bit of carrot and pulled a face.

“Excuse me,” her mum asked the waitress. “Isn’t there anything else?”

“Oh yes, there’s dessert,” said the waitress. “Low fat yoghurt or half an apple.”

Half
an apple? Angela slumped back in her chair. Were they trying to starve them to death? This was meant to be a holiday! Well, holidays had chips and ice creams – Bracegirdle Hall was more like a prison.

“Can’t we go home?” she moaned.

“Certainly not,” said Mrs Nicely.

“Exercise and healthy eating will do us the world of good.”

Angela leaned forward. “I know where we can get lots of exercise,” she said.

“Where?” said her mum.

“Splash City! They’ve got six slides and—”

“NO, Angela!” cried Mrs Nicely. “We are staying and that’s final.”

After lunch, Miss Bullock had a special treat for them. Their next session was in the swimming pool.

This is more like it,
thought Angela. At last she could have some fun!

She raced out of the changing room and stopped dead. There had to be some mistake. Where were the slides, the Rocky Rapids and the Turbo Twister?

Miss Bullock blew her whistle. “Right, jump in. Six lengths front crawl!”

“But I can’t do crawl,” Angela moaned.

Miss Bullock rolled her eyes. “What can you do?”

“Doggy paddle,” said Angela. “And only if I’m wearing arm bands.”

Miss Bullock thrust a foam float into her hands. “Get going,” she ordered.

After an hour of swimming lengths, Angela and her mum staggered back to the changing room.

Mrs Nicely flopped on to a bench. “No more, please!” she gasped.

“I’m starving,” moaned Angela. “Can we get some crisps?”

“Crisps aren’t allowed,” said Mrs Nicely.

“What about doughnuts?”

“No!”

“Iced buns?” said Angela.

Mrs Nicely covered her ears. “Angela will you
please
stop talking about food!”

Angela looked at the clock on the wall. It was hours till dinner time. She’d never last out. If only mean old Miss Bullock hadn’t stolen her fudge bar. Wait a moment… Angela had a brainwave. If all goodies were forbidden, then somewhere in Bracegirdle Hall, there must be a secret stash of them. All she had to do was find it.

Angela hid behind a pillar. Supper had just finished and Mrs Nicely was
lying down upstairs. Heavy footsteps approached. Angela shrank back as Miss Bullock stomped past like a giant.

Angela waited a moment then followed her. Halfway down the corridor Miss Bullock vanished through a door. Angela read the sign: Staffroom – private. DO NOT DISTURB!

She peeped through the keyhole.

Inside Miss Bullock was glugging tea with two members of staff.

“Anybody peckish?” she asked.

“Oh, go on then,” one of the others giggled.

Miss Bullock went to a cupboard and threw open the door.

Angela’s eyes grew big. The shelves were groaning with goodies – crisps, biscuits, popcorn, sweets and chocolate.

Miss Bullock handed round biscuits and bit into a chocolate bar. Angela gasped – it was
her
fudge bar.

Miss Bullock looked up. “Did you hear a noise?” Before Angela could move, the door was thrown open. She stood, frozen to the spot.

“What are you doing here?” snapped Miss Bullock.

“I … I just wanted to know if I can go to bed,” mumbled Angela.

Miss Bullock pointed to the sign. “Can’t you read?”
she hissed. “‘Do not disturb.’ Now go away and don’t ask stupid questions!”

BLAM! The door slammed shut and hoots of laughter came from inside. Angela let out a long breath. They would soon see who was stupid.

Chapter 4

Creep, creep, creep.

Angela tiptoed down the corridor clutching her torch. It was midnight.

“ANGELA!”

Uh oh. She turned round. Her mum’s head poked out of their room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

“Just to get some chocolate.”

“Don’t tell fibs, Angela.”

“I’m not, I know where they keep it,” said Angela. “There’s biscuits and everything.”

Mrs Nicely hesitated. She ought to send Angela straight back to bed. On the other hand, she was starving. It was days since she’d tasted anything nicer than a carrot.

“You shouldn’t be creeping about at night,” she scolded. “What if you’re seen?”

“I won’t be,” promised Angela.

“You had better not,” said Mrs Nicely. She lowered her voice. “And don’t forget my ginger creams.”

Angela padded downstairs and along the silent corridor. No one was about. She opened the staffroom door and
slipped inside. Her heart was pounding. If Miss Bullock caught her, she’d probably have to swim a million lengths.

Angela shone her torch. There was the goody cupboard. She opened the door. Wowee! It was like having the key to a sweet shop. Quickly, she began to stuff the pockets of her dressing gown.

Ten minutes later, Angela and her mum sat on the floor. Around them lay sweet
wrappers, crumbs and crisp packets. It was the greatest midnight feast ever.

“Pass me the ginger creams, please,” said Mrs Nicely.

“All gone,” said Angela. “Try this toffee popcorn, it’s yummy.”

Mrs Nicely took a handful. “You’re sure no one saw you?”

“Don’t worry,” said Angela. “They’re all in bed…”

CRASH!

Suddenly the door burst open. Miss Bullock stood there with a face as dark as thunder. She had spotted the light under the door as she passed on her nightly patrol.

“WHAT’S GOING ON?” she blazed. “You know the rules, lights out at ten.” Her eyes fell on the wrappers and crisp packets. “Where did you get those?”

Angela didn’t answer. It was hard to say anything with a mouth full of popcorn.

Miss Bullock narrowed her eyes. “You little sneak,” she said. “You raided our cupboard, didn’t you? Well, no breakfast for you tomorrow. You’ll be doing twenty laps of the grounds.”

Angela’s heart sank. Please not more laps!

But her mum stood up. “Actually we won’t,” she said, “because tomorrow morning we’re going home.”

“Home?” croaked Miss Bullock.

“Yes,” replied Mrs Nicely. “I wouldn’t stay another day in this horrible place if you paid me.”

Angela leaped to her feet. “Does that mean we can go to Splash City?”

Mrs Nicely sighed heavily. “Yes, all right, Angela, as long as you don’t—”

Too late, Angela let out an ear-splitting whoop. “YAAAHOOOO!”