Sleepover Girls on the Range (5 page)

“What, you mean it’s a real horse?” Fliss looked horrified.

“No Felicity, it’s a metal one on a stand and someone controls the speed. They’re excellent, trust me.”

“Well that’s all very well, Stu, but where are we going to get hold of one of those? For free?” I asked.

“Well sis, I might just be able to help you out there.” Stuart looked very smug. “My friend Sam’s father hires things like that out, and it just so happens that I’m going to be seeing Sam this evening.”

“That’s brill, Stu! Do you think he’ll lend it to us?” I asked breathlessly.

“Yeah, Sam’s father’s a pretty cool dude!”

“Excellent!” I slapped Stuart hard on the back.

When he’d gone we were all
totally
hyper.

“This is going to be even better than we thought!” Rosie giggled.

We all settled down to work on the poster. We pasted the best of our designs round the edges, then it was time to write in the middle. After ages of deliberation (and arguments) we came up with this. Pretty good, huh?

“How do you know about the pony trek on the Sunday?” asked Rosie when I’d written that bit in.

“Mrs McAllister told me about it when I went to the farm this morning,” I explained. “She mentioned it before, but now it’s official. It’s the only thing she seemed really enthusiastic about, to be honest with you. Anyway, she’s arranging the pony trek so it’s nothing to do with us.”

“But we will be going on it, won’t we?” Kenny asked.

“Yeah, ‘course!” I agreed.

Then I saw Fliss’s face. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to. She looked terrified! But I didn’t have time to argue with her about that now. We had more important things to do. It was almost four-thirty and we had to start preparing for Operation ‘Cowboy Dad’!

We all piled into the lounge and I put on a video. It was one of Dad’s very favourite Westerns, starring this bloke called John Wayne.

“Aw man, what’s this?” Kenny moaned.

“This is our secret weapon,” I explained. “When your dads come in, you’ve got to pretend that you’re really enjoying it, OK?”

Kenny made a being-sick face, and the others looked dead bored.

“Couldn’t we just put it on when they come?” Rosie asked.

“Nope – I want them to think we’ve been watching it for ages.”

We slumped back on the settee and watched. After what felt like an hour, the doorbell rang. I heard Dad answer it – then he came into the lounge with Frankie’s father.

“Oh it’s
True Grit!”
Dad exclaimed. “I love this film!”

“Me too,” agreed Frankie’s dad, and they both perched on the settee to watch.

Bingo! We all exchanged glances and carried on pretending we were totally absorbed in it too.

When Kenny’s father appeared, Mum showed him through.

“Isn’t this
True Grit?
” he asked, and settled down to watch as well.

Rosie’s mum and Andy appeared at the same time, and they came into the lounge to join us.

“You’re not watching a
Western,
are you?” Rosie’s mum sounded horrified.

I flashed the others a look, and launched into Phase Two of the Plan.

“Wouldn’t it be great to be a cowboy!” I said dreamily. “Riding the range on a horse all day …”

“Rounding up cattle …” Kenny continued.

“And cooking round a campfire at night,” Frankie added.

“Yes, you’re right there. No worries about anything,” agreed Dad.

“No money worries,” Andy added. “Just you, your horse and the open country. What could be better?”

Fliss looked as though she was going to get all huffy about her and her mum being better than that, but I shut her up with a glare.

“So, do you fancy cooking round an open fire then, Dad? And maybe telling some of your stories?” I asked innocently.

“Well, not now, Lyndsey,” Dad laughed. “But I’d love to do it another time.”

“What about you, Dad?” Frankie asked. “Would you do it? And you too, Dr McKenzie?”

“Are we talking about one of your sleepovers?” Dad asked cautiously.

“Sort of. Will you do it? Please!” I begged.

“I dare say we could rustle up some good campfire grub, couldn’t we?” My dad looked at the other dads. “What do you say? Should we live like cowboys for an evening?”

“I don’t see why not!” the others agreed, coming over all macho.

“Thanks Dad!” I leapt up from the settee. “You’ve just agreed to cook at the Open Day for Mrs McAllister’s stables. You’re a star!”

I hugged my dad and Frankie, Kenny and Fliss hugged theirs (well, Andy isn’t Fliss’s dad quite yet – he and her mum are getting married next month).

Rosie’s mum burst out laughing and started to clap.

“Well done, girls! That was a fine piece of feminine trickery!”

The dads sighed and looked very sheepish.

“We were done there, good and proper!” Dad laughed. “Well, it’s in a good cause I suppose!”

I took the poster down to the farm the next day, and was just giving it to Mrs McAllister when Mrs Chandri turned up. I was sure that she was going to find fault with it when I showed it to her, but she seemed really impressed. Ruth the line-dance caller had apparently already been in touch about the line-dancing, and Mrs Chandri asked me to give Stuart her number so that he could pass on the details of the Bucking Bronco.

“You’ve done very well!” she smiled. “And the posters will look stunning. I’ll get them printed up as soon as possible. Shall I arrange to put them up, or do you want to do that?”

“No you can if that’s OK,” I smiled back at her. I remembered all too clearly the problems we’d had putting up posters in the past …

“Right then. I’ll get in touch with you nearer the time, and we’ll go over the details,” she told me. “I think this Open Day is going to be a big success. Well done!”

Right up until the Open Day itself, all the planning went smoothly.
Too
smoothly. Mrs Chandri had estimated how many people she thought would turn up, and had bought food and drink at a discount rate. She’d sorted out prizes for the competitions and we’d helped to build the enormous campfire with our fathers. (I think they were still a bit miffed that we’d conned them like that, but they were kind of excited about it too, you could tell.) Ruth had checked out the stable yard and told Mrs Chandri where she wanted to put her stuff for the line-dancing, and they’d even rigged up a special sound system too. And Stuart had delivered the Bucking Bronco and a whole pile of crash mats to land on. Did this sound too easy or what?

The night before the Open Day, we all went down to the stables. The whole thing looked pretty awesome.

“This is going to be
so
cool!” we giggled.

“And don’t forget we’ve got the sleepover to look forward to as well,” I reminded the others. “So don’t forget all your sleepover goodies, will you?”

As if!

The next day we got to the stables by two o’clock. It was humming with activity, but Mrs McAllister was pacing about looking very anxious.

“I’m sure it’s going to rain,” she moaned. “And what will we do then? The whole day will be a complete washout!”

“I’m sure it won’t,” I tried to reassure her. “Look, the sun’s starting to shine. Shall we just put our stuff in the barn?”

She nodded weakly.

“Crikey, she’s not much fun, is she?” Kenny moaned. “All that effort we’ve put into arranging this and she doesn’t seem grateful at all!”

“I’m sure she’s just anxious,” I said, flinging open the barn door.

It was very dark inside, and smelt of warm hay.

“Come on! Make yourselves at home!” I giggled, running up the large straw bales which were piled up in one corner.

The others stepped in gingerly. Suddenly Fliss started to scream.

“I’m not sleeping in here!” she yelled. “Not with
that
thing around!”

Now if someone said that to you, you’d be expecting a one-eyed monster at the very least, wouldn’t you? Well there was no monster there, only Alfie.

“Hello, boy! What are you doing here?” I rushed over to stroke his muzzle. “Don’t you want to be involved in the Open Day then?”

“Never mind ‘doesn’t
he
want to be involved in the Open Day’!” snorted Fliss. “I don’t want him to be involved in our sleepover!”

“You did agree to that, Lyndz,” Frankie joined in.

“Hey guys.” I pulled myself away from Alfie and turned to face the others. “This is nothing to do with me. We’ll have to ask Mrs McAllister what’s going on. There must be a reason why he’s here. This isn’t where he usually stays.”

“I wouldn’t fancy your chances with Mrs McGrumpy-Boots at the moment,” moaned Kenny. “She’ll probably bite your head off.”

We all looked out on to the yard where Mrs McAllister was tearing a strip off one of the men who was setting up the speaker system for the line-dancing.

“See what you mean!” I mumbled.

“Hey look, Lyndz – your dad’s here!” Rosie suddenly squealed. “What
does
he look like?!”

Sure enough, Dad was striding across the yard to the far field where a section had been cordoned off for the campfire. He was wearing his jeans and a checked shirt – and on his head was the biggest cowboy hat you’ve ever seen.

“Oh no, my dad’s here too,” Frankie cringed.

He
was wearing the wackiest pair of cowboy boots on the planet. Talk about embarrassing.

“Where have they dug those up from, then?” Kenny was killing herself laughing.

“They are a bit, erm,
loud
, aren’t they?” Fliss screwed her nose up in disgust.

“At least they’re entering into the spirit of things,” I said defensively. “Which is more than I can say for you lot. I thought we were supposed to be dressing up in Wild West stuff?”

I was wearing my favourite jeans with the leather chaps over the top, and had a cowboy hat among my sleepover things.

“I thought I’d be a Leicester City cowboy,” grinned Kenny, slapping her jean-covered thigh and straightening her football top.

I suppose the others did sort of look like cowboys, because they were wearing jeans, checked shirts and waistcoats. They looked much better when they’d put on the cowboy hats they’d brought too. All except for Fliss, of course.

She ran over to her sleepover stuff and
pulled something out of a carrier bag. It was a full denim skirt with loads of white petticoats underneath, a suede waistcoat, lace-up boots and a hat.

“Hey cool, Fliss!” we all marvelled.

“But shouldn’t you be
wearing
it?” I asked her. “I mean, that
is
kind of the idea of dressing up, you know.”

Fliss shot me a look and began to wriggle out of her jeans. She must have forgotten that Alfie was there, because she gave an almighty jump when he whinnied.

“I’m not getting changed in front of
him!”
she snorted.

As if Alfie cared! Anyway, she made us stand in a circle round her so that he couldn’t peek. Crazy or what!!

She’d just donned her very stylish pair of boots when Mrs Chandri came rushing into the stable.

“Oh, there you are, girls!” she panted. “We’re nearly ready for the off. Can two of you help Mrs McAllister with the entrance money? And the rest of you come with me to check that everything else is in place?”

“You and Rosie help with the door money, Fliss,” Frankie said, going into hyperorganisation mode. “And the rest of us can help Mrs Chandri.”

Fliss and Rosie headed off to the entrance, where a queue was starting to form. The rest of us followed Mrs Chandri. The horses were already out in Mr Brocklehurst’s field, so I couldn’t understand why Alfie wasn’t with them. I would have to ask Mrs McAllister later.

In the field away from the stable block, Dad was busy lighting the fire with Frankie’s dad. Andy had appeared too. They were pretending to be cowboys and looked like they were having a blast. The line-dancing area had been set up and someone was testing the microphone. And Stuart was having a go on the Bucking Bronco, watched by a girl with short blonde hair.

Before I could investigate Stu’s situation further, Mrs Chandri told us:

“We’ll start with the fancy-dress competitions over here.” She waved an arm in front of the new stable blocks. “Mrs
McAllister is keen to show as many people round the new buildings as possible, so do try to encourage people to have a look at them. Oh look – our first arrivals are here. Let’s go to welcome them!”