“Kenny!” Fliss howled. “That’s the most stupid idea I’ve ever heard!”
“Why?” Kenny asked crossly. “I thought it was brilliant, even though I say so myself.”
“You’ve really gone bananas this time, Kenny,” I told her. “It’ll never work.”
“How can I pretend to be my mum?” Fliss demanded. “She’s twenty-eight!”
“So?” Kenny shrugged her shoulders. “Her age isn’t on the membership card, is it? Just her name. You can easily call yourself Nicola Proudlove.”
“Hang on,” Rosie said. “I got a quick look at the card when we went to the club yesterday, and there’s a photo of Fliss’s mum on it.”
“Oh, rats!” said Kenny. She thought for a minute, and then beamed at us. “OK, no problem. Fliss and her mum look like each other, and they’ve both got long blonde hair. Fliss can wear shades, and we’ll put loads of make-up on her to make her look a bit older, and more like the photo.”
“Yeah?” Fliss brightened up a bit, and stopped looking so nervous. She loves doing girly stuff with make-up. “Do you really think it’ll work?”
“Of course it won’t work!” I said, and Rosie and Lyndz nodded in agreement.
“Have you got a better idea, Francesca?” Kenny asked me.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“OK, then, so this is what we’ll do,” Kenny went on. “After lunch, we’ll meet at Fliss’s house, and get her all made up. Then we’ll cycle to the club, so bring your bikes.”
Fliss was looking nervous again. “I don’t think my mum will be very pleased if you all come round to my place. She’s still really annoyed about yesterday.”
“Just tell her we’re doing homework together,” Kenny said. “The oldies always like that.”
“All right,” Fliss agreed.
“See you all there then,” Kenny grinned, as my dad drew up outside the tennis courts.
“Quick, get inside before my mum comes down to see who it is,” Fliss whispered, hustling me through the door of the Proudloves’ house. I’d left my bike outside in the front garden, along with the others which were already parked there. “She keeps checking up on us, so we have to pretend to be doing homework.”
“Where is your mum?” I asked, stepping into the hall.
“She’s with a client,” Fliss replied, pushing me towards the stairs. Her mum is a beautician, and she has a sort of beauty salon in one of the spare bedrooms where she does all sorts of treatments. “Come on, we’re in my room.”
We tiptoed up the stairs, and Fliss opened her bedroom door.
“Yikes!” Kenny gasped, jumping a mile into the air. She was in the middle of tipping a make-up bag full of lipsticks and nail varnishes on to the floor. “I thought you were Fliss’s mum.”
“Come on, let’s get on with it,” Fliss said, looking nervous.
“One of us had better be on guard,” Rosie suggested.
“Good idea,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
I went over to the door and opened it, so that I could see right down the landing.
“Now, which one do you think I should wear?” Fliss held up two lipsticks. She’s got loads of make-up that her mum lets her wear when we’re playing dressing-up or having fashion shows. “Peachy Kiss or Purple Pout?”
“Oh, Fliss!” Kenny groaned. “It doesn’t matter. Just slap some lipstick on, and then we can go.”
“Don’t be silly, Kenny,” Fliss retorted. “I’ve got to do it properly. My mum’s taught me all about make-up.”
“Peachy Kiss is nice,” Lyndz said, twisting the lipstick up out of its tube.
“OK,” Fliss agreed. “But I’ve got to do my blusher and mascara first.”
We all sat around waiting as Fliss did her face. Kenny was so impatient, she couldn’t sit still. She kept hopping around from foot to foot, like she wanted to go to the loo or something.
“OK, I’m all done.” Fliss fluttered her eyelashes at us. “What do you think?”
“You do look a few years older,” Rosie said.
“Fourteen, maybe.” I added, “But not twenty-eight!”
“Yes, but Fliss’s mum looks really young for her age, anyway,” Kenny pointed out. “We’ll get away with it.”
“What if the man on the gate asks me how old I am?” Fliss said, looking panicky.
“Say you’re fourteen,” Kenny instructed her. “And if he says you look older in the photo, just tell him you were having a bad hair day when it was taken.”
“I hope it’s not the same man who was on the gate yesterday,” Lyndz said suddenly. “He might remember us.”
“We’ll just have to risk it,” Kenny said in a determined voice.
A door opened further down the landing. And I nearly died when I saw Fliss’s mum come out and head in our direction.
“Mrs Proudlove’s coming!” I hissed.
“Help!” Fliss gasped. “What about my make-up?”
“Lie down on the bed with your back to the door, and stick your head in a book,” Kenny told her. Between the four of us, we bundled her on to the bed, and thrust a book into her hand. “And whatever you do, don’t look up!”
By the time Fliss’s mum opened the door, we were all sitting quietly and reading.
“Everything all right in here?” Mrs Proudlove asked suspiciously.
“Fine, thank you,” we replied politely.
“Mum, we’ve finished our homework,” Fliss mumbled without looking up. “Is it OK if we go out on our bikes now?”
Mrs Proudlove frowned. “I suppose so,” she sighed. “But just try to stay out of trouble, please.”
She went out again. We all heaved a sigh of relief.
“Come on, let’s get going,” Kenny said. “Fliss, have you got some sunglasses?”
Fliss nodded, and picked up a really funky pink, heart-shaped pair of shades. Then she grabbed her sports bag.
“How’re we going to have a game, if we do get in?” I asked. “Fliss is the only one of us who’s got a racket.”
“Oh, we can always borrow one from somebody,” Kenny replied.
“As long as it’s not Mrs Morgan!” Rosie giggled nervously.
“We’d better make sure we stay out of her way,” I said. “And Mark’s too, just in case he tells Auntie Jill that he saw us there.”
We went out of the bedroom.
“Don’t forget the membership card,” Kenny reminded Fliss.
“That’ll be downstairs by the phone,” Fliss said confidently. “My mum always keeps stuff like that there.”
We all went down the stairs really quietly, just in case Mrs Proudlove came out to check on us again. Luckily, she didn’t. Fliss stopped by the phone table in the hall, and quickly went through the letters and bits of paper which were lying there.
“It’s not here!” she gasped.
“Oh no!” Kenny groaned. “Well, where else would it be?”
“It might be in my mum’s sports bag,” Fliss said doubtfully. “Hang on, no, it isn’t. I remember her saying that she’d emptied everything out.”
“It could be anywhere!” Rosie said, looking around.
“I’ve seen it this morning.” Fliss frowned, trying to remember. “I know I’ve seen it.”
“Think, Fliss, think!” Kenny urged her.
We all stood around, while Fliss racked her brains.
“The kitchen!” Fliss said triumphantly, at last. “I saw it lying on the worktop.”
We were just about to dash into the kitchen, when we all froze. A door had opened overhead, and there was the sound of footsteps.
“My mum must have finished with her client!” Fliss wailed. “If she sees me with all this make-up on, she’ll guess we’re up to something.”
“Quick, we’ve got to get that card!” Kenny hissed.
Fliss ran into the kitchen. As we heard Mrs Proudlove and her client at the top of the stairs, Fliss dashed out again, waving the card in the air.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said, and we all raced out of the front door.
We collected our bikes from the Proudloves’ front garden, and cycled off to the tennis club. It was a really warm and sunny day, and we were all sweating a bit by the time we got there. Or maybe it was just nerves!
“I’m scared,” Fliss moaned, as we locked our bikes up in the club car park.
“You’ll be fine,” Kenny said. “Just think about the M&Ms’ faces when they see us inside the club.”
“I hope they’re there,” I said. “Or this will all be a big waste of time.”
“They’ll be there,” Kenny said.
We didn’t go straight up to the entrance. Instead, we hung around on the edge of the car park, trying to see if the same man from yesterday was on duty.
“It’s OK,” Kenny said in a low voice. “It’s a different guy.”
We all marched up to the entrance. Fliss’s knees were knocking together so much, though, we practically had to carry her.
“Membership cards, please.” The man at the turnstile was a bit younger than the one from yesterday, and not quite so snooty.
“Er – yes.” Fliss fumbled in her pocket. Her voice was a bit high and squeaky because she was nervous. “I’m a member, and these are my guests.”
The man took the card and looked at it for what seemed like ages.
“You’re Nicola Proudlove?” he said at last.
“Um – yes,” Fliss muttered.
The man eyeballed Fliss sternly. “How old are you?” he asked.
“I’m fourteen,” Fliss said in a wobbly voice.
“Oh, really.” The man turned the membership card round, and held it out so that we could see it. “And how long have you been married, Mrs Proudlove?”
We all squinted at the card. There, next to the photo, it said Mrs Nicola Proudlove.
“Goodbye, Mrs Proudlove,” said the man sarcastically. “And just make sure you give that card back to its rightful owner.”
We all trailed gloomily back to the car park.
“Why didn’t anyone notice the card said Mrs Proudlove?” I asked, glaring at Fliss.
“I didn’t have time to look at it properly,” Fliss snapped. “I was in too much of a rush.”
“So the M&Ms win again,” Rosie said.
“Maybe we should just give up,” Lyndz suggested.
“Give up!” Kenny spluttered. “What do you mean, give up? I’ve just thought of another brilliant idea!”