Free Sleepover Club Eggstravaganza by Ginny Deals Page A

promised Kenny. “Everyone will love it!”
    BONG! The hall clock began to strike four.
    “Come on!” I yelled, wrapping my hair up in a new silver scrunch I’d bought that morning. “Geronimo – it’s party time!”
    And we all charged down the stairs like stampeding wildebeest.
    The first guests had already arrived, and they were all oohing and aahing over Izzy, who was sitting up in Mum’s arms and grinning at everyone.
    “Frankie, she looks gorgeous!” squealed Fliss, rushing over.
    Dead right she looked gorgeous. She was wearing a little white dress with white smocking on the front and little embroidered rabbits running round the hem. There were little frilly white pants to match, all big and squashy to get round her huge nappy. And on her back – and this was the finishing touch, dreamt up by yours truly – were a little pair of gauzy fairy wings.
    “She looks like an angel!” breathed Rosie, completely overcome.
    “She doesn’t smell much like one, sometimes,” I said rather practically. “But she’s looking pretty good today, I have to admit!”
    “Come on guys,” insisted Kenny impatiently. “I want you to know about my idea. But I’ve just got to ask your mum something, Franks.”
    She went galloping over to Mum and tugged at her sleeve. “Er, Mrs Collins?”
    “Yes Kenny, love?”
    “The Sleepover Club would like to do something for Izzy,” she said.
    “What sort of something?” said Dad, walking over with two glasses of punch for him and Mum.
    “A daffodil guard of honour!” said Kenny promptly. “We’ll just pick a few, honest…”
    There was a moment’s silence – and then a huge roar of laughter from all the grown-ups in the room.
    “Oh no! Oh, no, no!” spluttered Mum. “I’m not letting you anywhere near my daffodil bed, Kenny!”
    “More daffodils, Kenny?” I gasped. “You’re mad!”
    “Totally, certifiably insane,” nodded Fliss with a shudder.
    Rosie and Lyndz were just taking deep breaths at the very thought!
    Kenny looked quite put out by our reactions. “I promise we’ll only pick a few!” she insisted. “Dad? Mum? Don’t you think it’s a good idea?”
    Dr McKenzie paused with a smoked salmon sandwich about two millimetres from his mouth. “Don’t include me in this discussion!” he grinned. “They’re Gwyn and Helena’s daffs!”
    “All right!” laughed Dad. “But you are allowed to pick one flower each ! And I’ll be watching!”
    “I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if Frankie’s parents had just locked all the doors and refused!” grinned Rosie as we rushed outside to the flowerbed.
    “This is a totally different thing,” objected Kenny scornfully. “There are no M&Ms to fight with, for a start.”
    We picked one daffodil each – big, beautiful yellow ones, just like the trumpety one that had got Kenny into such trouble two weeks earlier. And we carried them carefully up to the patio outside the French windows, where an audience of grown-ups had gathered.
    “Now what, Kenny?” hissed Fliss, holding her flower rather nervously.
    We all shuffled our feet and looked at Kenny for inspiration. I mean, do you know what a guard of honour is?
    “Now, er…” said Kenz, looking at a bit of a loss.
    “Now,” said Mum stepping forward with Izzy, “you all form a line, like you sometimes see for people when they come out of church on their wedding day. Hold your daffs up, pointing together so they make an arch.”
    We all snapped to attention – me and Kenny facing Fliss, Rosie-Posie and Lyndz – and pointed our daffs skywards.
    “Gwyn, time to make a speech,” said Mum, coming round the garden side of us, ready to walk underneath our guard of honour andback into the house through the French windows.
    Dad spat out half his cucumber sandwich. “What, now?”
    “Come on, Gwyn!” came the cheers from the living room. “Get a move on! Speech, man!”
    “Well, I, er…” said Dad, clearing his throat. “Well, we are really