tell him to get lost. We’re not like that.
‘Hello there, you’re just in time for lunch. Would you like to stay?’
‘Oh! Yes please,’ said Fifty, acting surprised. ‘Your Sunday lunch is much better than ours.’ Fifty’s mum tries to be a proper mum, but she’s not that good on the cooking front.
‘I’d better give your mum a call.’
‘No need. She already —’ Fifty’s sentence finished in mid-air. Mum waited but nothing happened.
‘Well, we’d better lay another place,’ she said, glancing at the table where . . . Oops! I’d already laid six. That wasn’t bright. She gave me a suspicious look. ‘You must be telepathic. Either that or bad at counting.’
‘Come on.’ We legged it.
I told Fifty about Copper Pie’s almost famous guest. He was gobsmacked.
He told me about Bee’s dad. I was gobsmacked.
‘He came home on Friday night. No one knows where he’d been. I was still at Bee’s. Her mum had made a huge bowl of tuna pasta with beans. It was awesome. I was hurrying to make sure I got seconds when he walked in. She said, “So you’ve come back”.’ Fifty stood with his hands on his hips pretending to be a cross wife. ‘And he said, “It’s my home, isn’t it?” and she said, “Not if you’re not prepared to share it with your kids”.’
‘Did they have a fight?’ My parents don’t row in front of us. They do it when we’re in bed.
‘Almost. She shoved him out of the door and locked it.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I carried on eating.’
‘What about Bee?’
‘She said it served him right for trying to blackmail the family.’
‘Wasn’t she upset?’
‘Not really – she’s on her mum’s side. We finished tea and then she dragged me round the estate collecting for the swap stall.’
‘Did you get much?’
‘Loads. But no remote controls.’
‘What about garden gnomes?’
‘No. But we got some crutches, and a loudspeaker.’
‘Cool,’ I said. ‘And I ordered the water bombs.’
‘How many?’
‘A thousand.’
‘Oh yes! A thousand bombings. The Head’ll never ever let anyone have a water bomb stall ever again. What does she think everyone’s going to do with them? Water the grass?’
Flo arrived at the door of my room.
‘Lunch is ready. Who’s watering the grass?’
‘No one, Flo,’ I said.
‘It’s to do with the fair,’ said Fifty.
‘You’re doing chocolate babies. Keener told me.’
‘Chocolate babies?’ Fifty said, laughing. ‘In your dreams, Flo.’
She ran back downstairs. As we walked into the kitchen I heard, ‘But Keener lied to me, Mummy. He said I could have a free chocolate baby.’
I would have got a telling off except . . . surprise, surprise . . . there was yet another place laid and spotty boyfriend was sitting at it. No way was Mum going to lay into me in front of him. All she said was, ‘It’s not nice to eat babies. Chocolates should really only be chocolate-shape.’
Chocolate doesn’t have a shape but I didn’t bother to point that out.
After lunch Fifty wanted to go and see the others. In theory I have to stay home but we rang Jonno from my mobile and got him to ring back on the house phone and invite me over to help him with signs for the stall. An excellent idea – it was Fifty’s.
‘Just this once then,’ said Mum. ‘Although I was looking forward to a family walk to work off the lunch.’ She patted her tummy.
We rang Bee and Copper Pie on the way. Copper Pie said he was busy! Unheard of. Bee said she’d meet us at Jonno’s.
‘Where are we going then?’ said Jonno. He was standing outside his house.
‘We were coming to yours,’ said Fifty. ‘That’s why we’re here.’ As if to show he really was there he pointed at his shoes. I’ve never really looked at them before. They’re tiny. But I suppose big feet would be odd when he’s so small.
‘You said we could make signs,’ I said.
‘That’s what you told me to say. You can’t make signs at my house. That would mean paint and mess – things Mum and Dad hate.’
I was disappointed. Jonno’s house is the best.
‘Let’s go to the Tribehouse then,’ said Fifty.
We went through the cat flap. I was last and by the time I got into the garden the Tribers had frozen, like musical statues when the music has stopped. Bee pressed her finger against her lips. ‘Shhhushhh . . .’
‘We’ve heard feet,’ whispered Fifty. ‘Moving about.’
I had lots of questions. Soft feet like rabbits’ paws? Clackety feet like horseshoes? Clogs? Scratchy feet with claws? But all I said was, ‘Where?’
‘Shhhushhh . . .’
‘There’s someone in there,’ mouthed Fifty.
I reckoned they were playing a trick on me. I took a step towards the shed but Jonno shook his head. I took a step back. Fifty signalled for us to follow him up to the house. I was getting the idea there really might be a person – a dangerous person.
‘Who is it?’ I said.
‘Shhhushhh . . .’ said Fifty. ‘We don’t know, do we? But he might be dangerous.’
An escaped prisoner loose in the Tribehouse. He could be armed. I ran up the garden to the back door, leaving the others behind. Look out for yourself, I say. Not very Tribish, but being a hero’s not my thing.
Fifty’s mum was in the kitchen, singing ‘Dancing Queen’ really loudly. We all spoke at once. She didn’t hear a word we said. Fifty pressed ‘Off ’ on the remote control. We all spoke at once again.
‘Calm down, Tribers. One at a time,’ she said.
So Bee did the talking – how unusual!
‘There’s someone in the Tribehouse. Someone who shouldn’t be there. He sounds . . . big. Maybe dangerous even.’
