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Authors: Angie Bates

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BOOK: Sleepover Club Blitz
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I had some serious brainstorming to do. So after I’d watched a bit of TV and had a little snack (or four!), I got stuck in.

The sisters had asked us to describe what we’d learned from our history project, and show how it related to our own lives. Should be a doddle, I thought. There’s got to be LOADS of ways!

But the minute I tried to put even ONE down on paper, all my great ideas vanished in a puff of smoke.

After about an hour of mental torture, I rang Frankie. “How’s the brainstorming going?” I asked.

“A total write-off,” she yelled over Izzy’s howls. “I can’t hear myself think. My little sister’s getting some new teeth!”

OK, I thought. Frankie’s in Baby World. Let’s try Fliss.

“I have NO idea how this is meant to work!” Fliss wailed. “I wouldn’t paint my legs with gravy browning if you paid me and Mum would MURDER me if I cut up my bedspread and used it for a coat.”

Fliss had got hold of the wrong end of the stick as usual, but I wasn’t in the mood to argue, so I just told her to chill, and punched out Lyndz’s number. Can you guess what was wrong with Lyndz? SURE you can!

“Can’t talk now, hic, Rosie,” she gasped. “I’ve got some serious, hic! hic! hiccups!!”

“BOO!
” I yelled down the phone. But Lyndz’s hiccups are not easily impressed, so I hit the TALK button and cut her off.

It’s lucky I left Kenny till last, I thought. SHE won’t let me down.

“Hiya, Kenz!” I said breezily. “How are you doing with the Blitz Sister thingy?”

Unfortunately Kenny was in a really bad mood. I found out later that she’d had a HUGE row with her sister Molly.

“I’m not,” she snapped. “Plus my rat went missing.”

“Euw,” I said. “Oh,” I corrected quickly. “I’m really sorry.”

Rats totally freak me out. Even tame ones like Kenny’s. I think it’s their tails that give me the horrors. But Kenny’s crazy about hers (her rat, you wally! Not her tail!), so I tried to sound sympathetic. “Hope you find him soon,” I croaked.

“I can’t talk, OK?” Kenny said irritably. “I’ve gotta look for poor old Merlin.” And she put down the phone.

“Gr-reat,” I sighed. Instead of boosting my morale, my friends had totally depressed me. Maybe I should sleep on it, I thought. Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow, and go “Eureka! That’s IT!”

But as it turned out, I didn’t have to wait NEARLY that long. Because, just as I was helping my brother Adam with his tea, I had this BRILLIANT brainwave.

I didn’t write it down then and there. First Adam had to finish eating, then I had to check out my idea with my mates. But when the others heard what I had to say, they were over the moon.

“Coo-ell,” whispered Frankie. “You’re the best!” (I assumed she was whispering because they’d finally got Izzy to sleep.)

“MAJOR breakthrough,” said Fliss admiringly. “The M&Ms are going to be GREEN!”

“I’m v. impressed!” said Kenny. “And so’s Merlin. Would you believe he was cuddling up to Molly’s old Barbie in the garage? Isn’t that cute?”

“Euw,” I said faintly. “Yes, really cute.” (NOT!)

Lyndz was finally hiccup-free, so she was in an excellent mood. “Go for it, Rosie,” she said gleefully. “Knock their socks off!!”

So I went for it. It still took me ages to get it right. But by bedtime, I’d got our entry completely sorted. This is what it said:

Nowadays we have this stupid idea that some people aren’t as useful as others. it’s like you’re meant to fit into this tidy category, and if you don’t, you might as well be invisible.

For instance, if you’re too young, that’s not useful. But if you’re too old, that’s just as bad. And if you’ve got some kind of disability, FORGET it!

Well, during the war, people in this country couldn’t afford to think like that. Everyone had to do their bit. And I mean EVERYONE, from little kids to housewives to wrinkly old grandads.

And that’s how it is in my house. Without my dad, things are sometimes tough going. But everyone pulls together and somehow it works. People seem to think my brother Adam doesn’t contribute anything to our family, because of his cerebral palsy. But they’re SO wrong.

It’s the same with my mates in the Sleepover Club. They’d have been brilliant during the Blitz, because each of them has something really special to contribute.

Frankie would keep everyone entertained with her jokes and silly impressions. Fliss would make sure all our clothes were mended, and that everyone was scrubbed squeaky clean. kenny would run around Stacking sandbags, and collecting old pots and pans to be recycled into bombs and aeroplanes. And Lyndz would have been a land girl like Iris, helping out on farms and looking after the horses.

Miss Pearson’s history project taught us that wars aren’t just about fighting. They’re also about getting the best out of people in a crisis, and everyone playing their part, however small. And from this point of view, the Sleepover Club girls would have been total stars!

Next day, my mates read my entry in absolute silence. I got more and more nervous. They hate it, I thought.

I was about to make a run for it, when I saw they’d all gone red.

“It’s rubbish, isn’t it?” I said miserably.

Frankie shook her head. “It’s beautiful, Rosie,” she said softly. She actually had tears in her eyes. Then she flipped her hair behind her ears. “Erm, did you mean it about me being funny and entertaining?”

“I meant what I said about ALL of you,” I said truthfully.

“That’s SO sweet!” breathed Fliss.

“It’s brilliant, Rosie!” beamed Kenny. “You’re a genius!”

“It’s all down to Adam, really,” I said. And I made up my mind that if we won, I’d give my brother an extra squeezy hug!

Everyone read it through once more for luck, then we all solemnly signed our names, to show that this was an official Sleepover Club entry. Then we marched up to Miss Pearson’s desk and handed it in.

As we went back to our seats, Frankie stuck her tongue out at the M&Ms. She said she totally couldn’t resist!

Then just as I sat down again, it hit me! BAM! This was all MY idea. So if we lost the competition it would be MY fault! To make things worse, Iris and Edith would be judging all the entries.

I started getting all knotted up inside. I know it’s stupid, but I was totally desperate for Iris and Edith to like us best out of everyone in the class. I wanted to get to know those feisty Blitz sisters better and have a laugh with them in their funky time-warp house. And the more desperate I was for my dream to come true, the more I was convinced I’d blown it.

By the time I got home, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’d been banking on my brother giving me some SERIOUS cheering up. I’d totally forgotten he was staying at Dad’s.

So I rushed off to Mum. She looked up from her books, and at first I thought she was really listening. But as I burbled on, I realised she was just making those vague mum-noises. You know the kind. “Yes, Rosie. No, Rosie. Oh, you must be feeling absolutely terrible, Rosie.”

“So I thought I’d just go and boil my head,” I said in my most neutral voice. “And then hack off all my limbs one by one.”

“Yes, you do that, sweetheart,” said Mum soothingly. “And ask Tiff to defrost some lasagne for tea, would you?”

So I went to watch TV with my sister Tiffany.

My sister’s not the most sensitive girl in the world, but even
she
guessed something was wrong when I burst into tears in the middle of a McDonalds commercial. (It was that one where the little children cover their sleeping dad with their entire collection of Beany Babies.)

“All right, Rosie,” she sighed, “What’s bugging you now?”

Tiff goes on like I’m always working myself into a froth about nothing. When
she’s
the family member who deserves her own personal soap opera. Still, I was desperate, so I blurted out all my worries.

“It’s our one and only opportunity to have a genuine Blitz sleepover,” I sniffled. “But it’s all down to me. And I can’t handle that much responsibility If the M&Ms win, the others will never forgive me!”

To my surprise, Tiff really understood what I was going through.

“When I was at primary school I had some deadly enemies
just
like Emma and Emily,” she grinned.

“Yeah?” I said. “Did they sleep in lead-lined coffins?”

She giggled. “Me and my mates were ALWAYS trying to get one up on them. But if they won, it was like the world had ended.”

“I know what you mean,” I sighed.

“The funny thing is, Pippa’s one of my best mates now,” Tiff said casually.

My mouth fell open. “You’re kidding!” I breathed.

“It’s true,” she said. “We’ve got absolutely loads in common.”

I held up my hand. “Don’t even go there,” I said fiercely. “There is no WAY I will ever have anything in common with those mutants.”

“OK, OK,” said Tiff. “But you shouldn’t let them get to you. You should do the best you can for yourself and your friends, not worry about them.” She ruffled my hair. “Trust me,” she said affectionately. “I know what I’m talking about!”

I hate to admit it, but my sister was talking sense. It would be great if we really could flatten those Goody Two-Shoes with our combined brilliance. But what mattered was, I’d given it my best shot. With a whole week of waiting ahead of me, I clung bravely to this thought.

After our chat, we had a really mellow evening. Eventually Mum finished her college work and the three of us sat around stuffing ourselves with supermarket lasagne and watching TV.

They had one of those
Auntie’s Bloomers
programmes on. And for about the gazillionth time we laughed till we cried, at those poor
Blue Peter
presenters skidding around in all that steaming elephant poo.

But that night I found myself remembering what Tiff said about her ex-enemy, Pippa. As you can imagine, the idea of becoming best friends with the M&Ms was deeply scary.

It wouldn’t be SO bad, I thought, if it happened when we’re all very old, like Iris and Edith. Or maybe if Cuddington was invaded by space aliens, plus all the other humans were like, DEAD.

Yeah, and if Emma and Emily had total personality transplants, I told myself. Or if someone hypnotised us. Get real!

I cuddled up to my duvet in the dark. Nah, I though happily. Don’t even think about it, Rosie Cartwright, because it’s never going to happen!!

I’ve never been too sure what “tenterhooks” are, have you? I picture them like those serious steel hooks you get in butchers. But whatever they are, all week, the Sleepover Club was TOTALLY dangling from them, longing to know if we’d won.

Miss Pearson prolonged everyone’s agony by keeping the result under wraps until the afternoon. When the big moment came at last, everyone looked extra-alert. OK, maybe not everyone. Owen was doing his “I’m so deep” smile. And the M&Ms just looked annoyingly smug, like always.

“They make me SICK,” fumed Lyndz.

“Do you mind not using that S-word?” I gulped. The tension was getting to me and I was worried I might lose my lunch for real.

Fliss gave my hand a loyal squeeze. “You’ll always be the winner in my eyes, Rosie,” she whispered.

Miss Pearson looked up. “Right,” she beamed. “I’m sure you’re dying to know the results of our Blitz competition.”

She waved an envelope. “Iris and Edith told me that they read all your entries with great interest. But apparently one entry stood out as exceptional.”

The M&Ms gave squeaky Minnie Mouse giggles and hugged each other. We rolled our eyes. Those girls are SO unbelievable!

Miss Pearson tore open the envelope. “Let’s see who has won the unusual honour of spending the whole weekend in the Second World War,” she grinned.

“This is like the Oscar nominations,” hissed Frankie.

Miss Pearson slid out a piece of paper and gave a mysterious smile. “And the winner is…”

My tummy totally looped the loop.

“THE SLEEPOVER CLUB!” she beamed.

Kenny punched the air. “YAY!”

Did I mention that we’d agreed to play it really cool if we won? Yeah, right! We went totally crazy, jumping up and down and hugging each other, and screaming our heads off.

The M&Ms looked as sick as parrots (heh heh heh!). Owen just gave a bored shrug, as if this whole Blitz sisters thing was way beneath him.

But we totally didn’t give a hoot!! From Saturday through till Sunday, we’d be living in 1940s Britain. It was going to be one of our coolest, most unusual sleepovers ever, and as you know, we’ve had quite a few!!

When I woke on Saturday, I knew we were going to have the BEST time. It was one of those sparkly bright days, the kind which makes you zingy and happy inside.

Iris and Edith had provided us with heaps of 1940s gear beforehand. So when they came to collect us, they found five little 1940s waifs waiting for them, wearing Fair Isle cardies, pleated skirts and woolly socks held up with garters! Not to mention pixie hats and coats. (Luckily, our gruesome 1940s underwear didn’t show!)

Fliss’s mum took this snap of us. Don’t we look AMAZING? Can you see we’ve got labels round our necks, like real evacuees? We’ve even got cute old-fashioned suitcases. The clunky cardboard cases over our shoulders are our gas masks, if you’re wondering. Incidentally, Fliss’s mum insisted on doing our hair in proper 1940s hairstyles, and I think it made all the difference.

We didn’t just LOOK different though, we had totally new identities too. Miss Pearson had given us new names, which were like, typical for girls at that time. Plus we all had authentic Blitz life-histories.

I was Audrey Harris (that’s actually what’s written on my label, but it doesn’t show up in the snap). My mum worked in a munitions factory (where they made bombs and stuff). My dad was away fighting in the Middle East with some army outfit known as the Desert Rats.

Frankie’s 1940s name was Dorothy, and she had the WORST life history. Just about everyone in her family had died, except for her poor old granny. Frankie was thrilled to bits. She is SUCH a drama queen!

Lyndz and Kenny were meant to be sisters, which they thought was quite cool. Mind you, Kenny was less than thrilled when she found out her Second World War name was Daisy!!

“Eek, that’s WAY too girly! Can’t I swap it with Lyndz?” she pleaded.

“You actually WANT to be called Betty?” giggled Lyndz. “You sad, sad girl!”

Would you believe Fliss had to be someone called Ruby Goodbody! “How come I always get the stoopid surname?” she wailed. “First Sidebotham, then Proudlove, now this!”

I forgot to tell you Iris and Edith had dressed in 1940s costume too. Far more thrillingly, they’d actually arrived in a genuine old-fashioned car!!

Our mums and dads had come to see us off. But I’ll tell you something weird. As we drove away with the Blitz sisters, I saw Mum, Tiff and Adam waving like crazy. And my eyes filled up with tears! I felt exactly like a lonely evacuee who didn’t know if she’d ever see her loved ones again. Get a grip, Rosie, I told myself. Then I saw that all the others were furiously blinking away tears. Even Kenny!

Of course, Frankie had to go WAY over the top.

“I’ll never see my old bed-ridden granny again!” she sobbed. “How will she get down to the air-raid shelter without me?”

Luckily, before things got out of hand, Edith started to sing in her crackly old lady’s voice. It was a song called
We’ll Meet Again
, which was really popular during the war.

Lyndz gave Kenny a watery grin. “Come on, sis!” she said. And they joined in the singing.

“That’s the spirit,” said Iris briskly. “Chin up.”

We swallowed our tears and sang along at the tops of our voices. This must be what they mean by the Blitz spirit, I thought. And it really brought it home to me, how tough people had to be in those days.

I forgot to tell you that the Blitz sisters’ time-warp house was on the other side of Leicester. In actual miles, it’s not that far. But I’ve got to say, that car ride was the most bizarre journey I ever had in my LIFE!

I mean, I knew I was still in Rosie Cartwright’s century. I only had to look out of the window to see that. By the time we reached Leicester, there were like, THREE lanes of traffic, crammed with cars and buses and lorries, all zooming along at speeds which would have turned Audrey Harris to jelly. And overhead, rooftops bristled with TV aerials and satellite dishes, which were
definitely
not around during the 1940s.

Also, in Audrey’s day, English people mostly came in one colour – white! But in present-day Leicester, you meet people from everywhere in the world. Plus you can buy a zillion yummy kinds of food: Chinese, Indian, Japanese, Jamaican, Thai, you name it. Poor Audrey probably had to plough through icky macaroni cheese and stewed mutton and sad veggies with all the vitamins boiled out of them. (They weren’t too clever about vitamins in her day.)

Anyway, like I said, I knew I was still in my own century. Yet here I was, chugging along in that old-fashioned car, feeling Audrey’s clothes prickling against my skin, and bursting with weird emotions which TOTALLY weren’t mine.

It was like, the minute I put on my evacuee clothes, I’d split into two different girls – the twenty-first century me, and a 1940s version. It made me feel MOST peculiar.

We chugged up a little back street, and stopped outside a tiny house with sandbags outside. There were wartime posters plastered around, telling people to DIG FOR VICTORY, and
not
to leak crucial info to spies (CARELESS WORDS COST LIVES).

We all got out and Iris fetched our suitcases from the boot.

“Welcome to the Living Blitz Experience,” beamed Edith.

I followed her inside and found myself in a brown-painted hall, standing on bare, highly-polished lino. A serious shiver went down my spine, as if I really had stepped back in time. Then I caught sight of Frankie’s face.

Only, for that split second, she wasn’t Frankie. She was a bewildered evacuee, clutching a battered little suitcase. And I’m not lying, I went completely weak at the knees.

“This feels well weird,” whispered Kenny.

Lyndz patted her cheek. “I’ll look after you, sis!” she grinned.

We tiptoed from room to room. There was no carpet, just more shiny lino and (very slippy) rugs, so our footsteps echoed like mad. We were truly gobsmacked at the lack of mod cons.

For a start, the loo situation was
unbelievably
basic. You had to go OUTSIDE to use it. And instead of nice soft toilet paper, there was horrible hard shiny stuff. The toilet did have a flush, but you just
knew
there were sinister creepy-crawlies lurking behind the pipes.

Plus, there was NO central heating. There wasn’t even an immersion heater for baths and washing up. As for power showers, electric kettles, videos, TVs or computers, FORGET it!

“But what did people do for FUN?” asked Fliss in bewilderment.

Edith came in behind us. “They listened to the wireless,” she smiled. And she showed us a genuine Second World War radio. It was the size of a giant hat box, and was made out of a clunky old-fashioned plastic called bakelite, if you like technical details!

“What did they listen TO, exactly?” asked Frankie doubtfully. “I mean, did they even have pop DJs then?”

Edith laughed. “I’m afraid not. People listened to the news a great deal, obviously. And comedy shows were a big favourite. There was one called ITMA. You heard ITMA catchphrases everywhere in wartime.”

Iris appeared in the door. “Like TTFN,” she beamed.

“What does
that
mean?” spluttered Lyndz.

Iris and Edith giggled like kids. “TaTa For Now,” they chorused.

“Is that like ‘See ya’?” asked Kenny.

“Exactly like that.” Edith grinned at her sister. “They’ve been asking me what 1940s girls did for fun.”

“Amused themselves, mainly,” said Iris. “You might like to see these.”

She showed us piles of 1940s games, plus stacks of comics and magazines. We had a great time flicking through old film mags.

Kenny noticed that the female stars were more, well – SOLID than our present-day versions. “They look so healthy,” she said admiringly. “Like they’ve just been playing netball, or something.”

The male heart-throbs were way too smooth for our taste, not to mention ANCIENT! Everyone agreed that none of the 1940s guys came anywhere near Leonardo diCaprio for gorgeousness.

By the time we’d finished playing Hunt the Heart-throb and a couple of games of wartime Happy Families, our lunch was ready.

“It smells OK,” said Kenny cautiously.

Edith dished up a savoury fry-up of mashed potato, onion, and cabbage with crispy bacon bits mixed in.

“Bubble and squeak,” she beamed. “I know that, erm, Dorothy is vegetarian, like Iris, so we also cooked a vegetarian version.”

We all got stuck in. Except for Fliss, who only picked politely around the edges. She told me later that she was freaking out about consuming so many calories.

And it’s a good thing I was hungry, because we had steamed treacle pudding and custard for afters!

“No WONDER those film stars were on the chubby side,” Fliss whispered, when Edith and Iris left the room.

“They probably needed the stodge to keep them warm,” shivered Kenny.

“I’m going to burst,” groaned Lyndz. “I just want to laze around and watch TV.”

“Uh-uh,” said Frankie. “No TV, remember?”

But after we’d helped with the dishes, Iris and Edith said we were going to do some lessons.

“At the weekend?” Frankie gasped. “Is that even legal?”

I thought 1940s school sounded fun. But I quickly changed my mind. Back then, lessons consisted of chanting tables, copying maps and learning things by heart, including (AARGH!) poetry!! I had to learn a poem which went,
“The boy stood on the burning deck whence all but he had fled”
or something like that. Don’t laugh! It’s by someone really famous, OK!!

We were all shocked to realise how little equipment schools had then. And they had a really pitiful supply of books. Even paper was rationed during the war – isn’t that awful?

“Wow,” breathed Frankie. “When I get back to the twenty-first century, the first thing I’m going to do is kiss my computer!”

You’ll never guess how we spent the rest of the afternoon. Iris and Edith taught us how to KNIT!! It sounds really fogey, but knitting was HUGE during the war. Everyone was doing it, even big blokes and little kids. They didn’t just knit for their relations, they did it for soldiers and the ambulance service and bombed-out families.

Fliss decided to make a scarf. No prizes for guessing what colour wool she chose. They really should have called that girl Barbie! Lyndz and Kenny went for the scarf option too. Kenny’s was in Leicester City colours – no surprises there, then!

BOOK: Sleepover Club Blitz
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