Pet Detectives Read online

  The Sleepover Club

  Pet Detectives

  Louis Catt

  The Sleepover Kit List

  Sleeping bag

  Pillow

  Pyjamas or a nightdress

  Slippers

  Toothbrush, toothpaste, soap etc

  Towel

  Teddy

  A magnifying glass for detecting

  Food for a midnight feast: chocolate, crisps, sweets, biscuits. Anything you like to eat!

  Torch

  Hairbrush

  Hair bobble or hairband, if you need them

  A change of clothes

  Sleepover diary and membership card

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Title Page

  The Sleepover Kit List

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Top Sleepover Tips

  Other Books By

  Copyright

  About the Publihser

  Hiya! Fliss here. I’m so glad you could stop by. I was just checking my hair was not doing anything too mad before I see Ryan. That’s Ryan Scott, who’s in our class at school. He’s a brilliant footballer, and he’s very interesting to talk to. Well, that’s what I think – although Frankie and Kenny and Lyndz and Rosie just laugh when I say so. Mum says they’re probably jealous because he likes me better than them, but I don’t think they mind about that sort of thing. My mum also says you should always try to look your best, and this is a date. Well, actually it isn’t, but it’s a long story.

  Do you want to hear it? Great. Pull up a chair while I finish off. You definitely won’t want to miss hearing about the wild time The Sleepover Club have been having lately.

  First of all, you do remember The Sleepover Club, don’t you? How could you forget! I’m Felicity Diana Sidebotham, and I’m ten (no jokes about my name, please – I get enough from the Gruesome Twosome Emma and Emily, our archrivals the evil M&Ms. You don’t want to be part of their sad little gang).

  If you want to know what I look like, I’m slim with very long blonde hair. I live with my mum, who’s a beautician, and my annoying little brother, Callum. Sometimes he’s OK, but sometimes I wish he was a girl. Then I could talk to him about important things like clothes and make-up. There’s also my mum’s boyfriend, Andy, who’s great. My real dad got married to Maria, and they’ve got a lovely little baby girl called Posy. I can’t talk to her about clothes either, but I can’t wait till she grows up!

  The other members of The Sleepover Club are Frankie, Kenny, Lyndz and Rosie. Frankie and Kenny are best friends. Just between you and me, sometimes I feel a tiny bit left out when we’re at school. Sometimes I even feel like that when we’re having a sleepover, though I do try to hide it. Frankie and Kenny are a bit mad and love playing tricks on people. It was definitely Kenny who encouraged Callum to get those revolting spiders. Yuck!

  Frankie’s just as bad. She once painted her face red and jumped out at me; I got such a shock I nearly fainted. Rosie said afterwards that I looked really green, which is not a good look for me, particularly as I had a pink sweater on at the time. Pink and green just don’t go. Kenny had to get me some hot sugary tea and wrap me up in a duvet. Did you know that’s what you do if someone has had a bad shock? Kenny wants to be a doctor like her dad when she grows up, so she’s good at knowing things like that.

  Is this all sounding a bit muddled? Sorry! It’s just that we’ve had such an adventure; I can’t wait to tell you about it. But I think I should go back to the beginning and tell you about The Sleepover Club properly.

  Frankie first. She doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. She’s got a pet dog called Pepsi, though. I like Pepsi because she isn’t the sort of dog who jumps up and puts her muddy paws all over you. A long time ago Frankie had a cat called Muffin who got run over, and if you think it’s odd that I’m telling you about a dead cat, it isn’t really. If Frankie hadn’t still been missing Muffin she wouldn’t have—whoops! There I go, charging ahead again. Perhaps you could just remember about Muffin, though.

  Then there’s Kenny. Like I told you, she wants to be a doctor. She’s got two sisters, and she has to share her bedroom with her sister Molly. I’m really glad I don’t have to share with anyone. Molly is horrible – we call her Molly the Monster. She’s always complaining about Kenny – although I do think Kenny is a bit untidy. If you look under her bed you’ll see it’s stuffed with dirty clothes. There’s even a big bag of rat food – UGH!!! Luckily the rat is in the garage. I don’t think I’d ever be able to sleep over at Kenny’s house if the rat was in her room like she wants it to be. I’d have terrible dreams about scaly tails and horrible sharp teeth all night long.

  I haven’t told you about Rosie yet. Rosie is like me; she doesn’t live with her dad. She’s got a big sister, Tiffany, and an older brother called Adam who uses a wheelchair. Her house is a bit like Lyndz’s house; it’s very messy and a lot of the walls need painting. Rosie says her dad keeps promising he’ll come back and sort it out, but he doesn’t. I don’t think I’d like to have Rosie’s room at all. My bedroom has ever such pretty wallpaper, and my mum let me choose my curtains and my rug.

  Who haven’t I told you about yet? Oh yes – Lyndz. She’s got two brothers who are older than her, and two younger ones. She lives in a big untidy house with things all over it, and her dad is always doing stuff to it. I think they should ask my mum’s boyfriend, Andy, to do it properly (he’s a very neat plasterer) but they don’t. It’s odd, but they seem to like it just the way it is … and I suppose it is sort of comfortable. You never have to worry about spilling things or keeping the cushions all nice and puffed up like we do in my house. Lyndz has a dog, but I don’t like him as much as Frankie’s. He barks all the time, and he rushes about. Sometimes he jumps on your lap, and his paws are all wet and muddy and disgusting. There are three cats too … Toffee, Fudge and Truffle. And now finally I can start the story properly. It was because of Truffle that we turned into detectives … because one day Truffle went missing!

  When Truffle disappeared, Lyndz was really upset. She was late arriving at school, and her eyes were red. Mrs Weaver – our teacher – told her that cats often wander off on their own for a bit, but Lyndz said Truffle always comes in at six o’clock for her kitty crunchies.

  “When did you last see her?” Frankie asked.

  “Yesterday morning,” Lyndz said, and she sniffed loudly. “She was licking the butter and I shouted at her. Maybe she’s run away because I was so horrible.”

  “Yeah!” The M&Ms grinned at each other. “Cruel – that’s what you are! Poor little pussy. She’s run away to live with people who will be kind to her!”

  Have I told you about the M&Ms? Their real names are Emma Hughes and Emily Berryman, and they hate us and we hate them. They’re always trying to get one up on us – sometimes they are just so mean.

  This time it looked as if they’d been really successful. Lyndz turned her back on them, but I could see her shoulders were shaking. She was blowing her nose really hard. I glared at the M&Ms, and so did Kenny.

  “If you think it’s funny making jokes about someone’s lost cat you’re even more lame than we thought you were!” Kenny said.

  The M&Ms tried not to grin, but they couldn’t quite stop. Lyndz went on worrying. “It was so cold last night, too,” she wailed. “Truffle never stays out all night. She sleeps on the end of my bed, and keeps my toes warm.”

  Frankie put her arm round Lyndz’s shoulders just as one of the M&Ms whispered to the other, and they fell about shr
ieking with laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” Frankie asked them.

  They didn’t answer, but went on giggling.

  Frankie went right up to them, and Kenny went with her.

  “Tell us what the joke is!” Frankie said, and she sounded terribly fierce.

  Emma stopped laughing. “We were only fooling around,” she said. “I’m sorry if you’re worried.”

  They didn’t look sorry at all. “Cats are always going off,” Emily said. “Our cat goes out every night.” She began to snigger again. “We were wondering if your mum thought your cat was a hot water bottle and hung it up in a cupboard!” And then they both laughed all over again.

  I wanted to tell Mrs Weaver, but Lyndz said it wasn’t worth it. She said we’d always known the M&Ms were totally pathetic, and the way they were cackling just proved it.

  “Take no notice of them,” Rosie said. “If we do it’ll only make them worse.”

  I think Rosie was right. She knows quite a lot about how to treat people; I think it might be because sometimes stupid people call her brother names.

  The bell went then, and we had to go back into lessons. Mrs Weaver was very nice to Lyndz, which was just as well as Lyndz got all her spellings wrong.

  Halfway through the afternoon I saw Frankie pass Lyndz a note.

  Lyndz read it while Mrs Weaver was writing something on the board and then she passed it on to me. It said:

  Hey! I’ve HAD An IDeA! IF TRUFFLe Isn’T AT Home TonIGHT someone musT HAVe STOLen HeR? so We’LL Be THe sLeepoveR DeTecTIves AnD TRAcK HeR Down!!!!

  I looked at Lyndz, and she was sitting up much straighter and smiling at Frankie. I passed the note on to Rosie, and she read it too. Then Kenny got it, and she said “YES!” so loudly that Mrs Weaver turned round.

  “Am I missing something?” she asked.

  We all tried to look as if we had been working extra specially hard. Of course the M&Ms had to blurt.

  “They were passing notes, Mrs Weaver,” Emma said, and she gave us a huge fat horrible smile.

  “That’s right, Mrs Weaver,” Emily said. “We both saw them.”

  Now, Mrs Weaver usually hates us passing notes more than anything else. She says it’s underhand, and that if we have something to say we should stand up and say it. She says it is really rude, and means we don’t respect her at all. This time, though, she gave Emma and Emily a funny look.

  “Thank you,” she said. “If ever I want a report on the private activities in my class I’ll remember to ask you two. In the meantime, however, I suggest you all get on with what you’re doing.”

  That squashed the M&Ms! We could hardly believe our luck. We put our heads down and worked really hard until the end of the lesson – which was also going-home time.

  When we’d cleared up and put our chairs on the tables, Frankie went straight up to Mrs Weaver. She was holding the note in her hand. She walked right past the M&Ms, and I saw them staring.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs Weaver,” Frankie said, “but I did pass Lyndz a note. It wasn’t a bad one, though. You can read it – I just wanted to cheer her up.”

  Mrs Weaver smiled at Frankie, and dropped the note in the wastepaper basket.

  “I had a feeling it was something like that,” she said. “Don’t do it again, though.” And she went on clearing up, still smiling.

  The M&Ms looked as sick as parrots!!!

  When we got outside the school gate Frankie let out a loud “WHOOPEE!!!” and we all joined in. Then Kenny said we should give three cheers for Mrs Weaver, so we did that too. (I think it was a little bit louder than it might have been because the M&Ms were walking past exactly at that moment!)

  Then Frankie grabbed Lyndz’s arm. “Can you ring us if Truffle’s still missing?” she asked her. “And if she is we’ll make a Grand Plan!”

  “Sleepover Pet Detectives!” Rosie said, and she whacked Lyndz on the back in an encouraging sort of way.

  Kenny giggled. “We can’t catnap if we’re looking for a catnapper,” she said.

  “But we’ll catch the catnapper who’s napping with the cat!” Frankie said.

  “We can pore over her paw prints and follow the trail to her tail!” Rosie chipped in.

  We all laughed then, even Lyndz.

  “I’ll ring as soon as I get home,” she promised.

  I’d been thinking while the others were telling jokes. (I’m not very good at being funny.) I wasn’t sure what we could do if we were detectives; I was worrying that we didn’t have things like magnifying glasses and cameras, and all the other things detectives need.

  “What exactly will we do?” I asked. “I mean, if she hasn’t come home? Where will we look first?”

  Frankie stopped grinning and rubbed her nose. “Maybe we should check out the pet shop. Maybe someone might have found her and thought she was a stray.”

  “Wouldn’t they take her to a cats’ home?” Kenny said. “Or the RSPCA?”

  “She’s got our phone number on her collar,” Lyndz said, and she began to look unhappy again. “If someone had found her they’d have rung up.”

  “Could she have lost her collar?” I asked. Rosie nodded.

  “Our cat wriggles out of his quite often. It’s because you mustn’t put their collars on too tight.”

  “She might have lost it,” Lyndz said. “Actually, it was a bit loose, and it had one of those elasticky bits on it.”

  “Well then!” Kenny waved her arms in the air. “Probably she got stuck in a tree or something yesterday, and she wriggled out of her collar this morning—”

  “And she’s sitting on your bed at home now this minute!” Rosie yelled.

  Lyndz smiled at us. “Thanks,” she said. “I do feel better now.”

  “Will you ring us anyway, even if she’s back?” I asked.

  “Of course I will.” Lyndz picked up her bag. “I’ll zoom back and see right this minute.” She dashed off, and we all went home too.

  I’d only been at home about ten minutes when the phone rang. It wasn’t Lyndz – it was Frankie. She said Lyndz’s mum had told Lyndz she could only ring two of us and we were to pass the message on. Anyway, Frankie said Truffle was still missing, and we were all going to go to the pet shop after school tomorrow.

  “We could come back to my house afterwards to make a plan if Truffle’s not there,” I said.

  “Actually,” Frankie said, “everyone’s coming to my house. I’ve already arranged it. Oh, and Lyndz’s mum says she can have a sleepover at her house next Friday to cheer her up … or if Truffle’s back it can be a celebration! OK?”

  “Yes,” I said. “All right.”

  “See you tomorrow, then,” Frankie said, and she rang off.

  I put the phone down too. Sometimes Frankie can be very bossy. We hardly ever meet up after school at my house, and my house is much the nicest. My mum really likes it when everyone comes round too, and she makes us special cakes and buys lots of different kinds of biscuits.

  We had to wait for my brother Callum before we could go to the pet shop the next day. He walks home with me, and my mum says he’s not old enough to come home on his own. His class was late coming out; because they’re younger they seem to take ages and ages getting their coats on.

  While we were waiting, Lyndz told us she’d been doing some detective work on her own.

  “The last person who saw Truffle was Mum,” she said. “Truffle was bouncing out of the cat flap, and she looked just like she always does. And we’ve checked all the cupboards and sheds and drawers, because a friend of Mum’s said her cat got into her airing cupboard and was shut in for six days while they were away on holiday!”

  “Was the cat OK?” Rosie asked.

  Lyndz nodded. “Yes. It was very thin, but it was completely fine as soon as it had had something to eat!”

  Kenny was looking thoughtful. “What did the airing cupboard look like?”

  I knew exactly what she was going to ask about. Kenny always wants to know abo
ut disgusting things. Luckily just at that moment Callum came round the corner, so I jumped up.

  “Look!” I said. “There’s Callum! Let’s go!”

  Callum was a bit grumpy about having to go to the pet shop, but he cheered up when Lyndz told him about Truffle. She’s got younger brothers too, so she knows how to talk to him.

  “I’ll look out for her,” he said. “I’m very good at seeing things.”

  We all squeezed into the pet shop together. It isn’t very big, so we more or less filled it up. There were cages all over the walls, and all round the floor too. I didn’t mind the ones with birds peeping and cheeping, but I didn’t look at the ones with horrible squirmy little rats and mice in.

  Mr Garez didn’t look very pleased to see us. He’d probably guessed we weren’t going to buy anything, even though Lyndz usually buys loads of rat food from his shop, and Frankie’s mum buys dog food there.

  “I hope you’ve come for a reason,” he said. “I’m fed up with kids coming in just to look at the kittens. This is a shop, not a zoo.”

  “Kittens!” Kenny said. “Oh, Mr Garez – where are they?”

  Mr Garez sighed very loudly and pointed at a big cage in the corner – and there they were. Three tabby kittens, and a tiny fluffy black one that was chasing its tail round and round and round.

  “OH!” Frankie nearly fell over her feet in her rush to look closer. “LOOK! He’s exactly like Muffin!”

  “Who’s Muffin?” Rosie asked her.

  “He was my cat who died.” Frankie said. “He was lovely, and I still miss him. He was black all over with a tiny white spot under his chin – oh, Mr Garez, please can I hold him? Just for a minute?”

  Mr Garez sighed again, even louder than before, but he came over to the cage. “He’s a little terror, that one,” he said as he fished the black kitten out and plopped it into Frankie’s hands. “He’s forever getting out. I’ll be glad when someone takes him.”

  Frankie was gazing at the kitten, and her eyes were shining. “I’ll take him!” she said. “My mum and dad won’t mind – we’ve still got Muffin’s food bowl in the cupboard! How much is he?” And she started pulling her purse out of her pocket with one hand while she cuddled the kitten with the other.