The Yoghurt Plot Read Online Free PDF Page B

ultimate trust game?’ Miss Swanson claps her hands. ‘Lorna, stand on this chair, would you?’
    Lorna springs over and climbs onto the chair, swinging her arms, all keen and  …  ugh.
    â€˜Now, everyone else, we have to make Lorna feel safe enough to throw herself forward into our arms. So gather round and let’s put our arms out, to make a springy bed for her.’
    We move together. There are only eight of us, but I suppose Lorna doesn’t weigh much. ‘Ready?’ Miss Swanson gazes up at Lorna.
    â€˜You mean I just throw myself forward on your arms?’ says Lorna.
    Miss Swanson grins and nods. ‘Yes – you’ll be perfectly safe.’
    â€˜OK,’ says Lorna, bending her knees, ready for a dive, before launching herself right over our arms and onto the gym floor.

Chapter 9
    Lorna’s nosebleed doesn’t stop for ages.
    â€˜I’m s’posed to be cubbing home wiv you,’ she says through the bloody tissue.
    â€˜Really?’ I say.
    â€˜Yes, my mum spoke to your mum.’
    â€˜Oh –’ I say.
    But my mum doesn’t come. Dilan’s already gone home, presumably on the bus, and I didn’t bring enough money for the bus fare home, certainly not enough for me and blood-stained Lorna.
    At five, Miss Golightly takes pity on us and says, ‘I know I shouldn’t, but I’ll run you back, dears.’
    So we cram into her miniature car, really designed for two ordinary-sized people, not one peanut brittle addict and two medium children, and she drives us scarily fast through the streets before juddering to a breathless halt at the back of a traffic queue. We wait for an enormous removal van to back into the drive of a massive house.
    Miss Golightly sighs, tapping her fingers on the dashboard. ‘The Hendersons, moving house again. Apparently that house has got its own cinema.’
    â€˜And a swimming pool,’ says Lorna.
    I watch two removal men struggle up the steps with a green and gold chandelier modelled on the monuments of Europe. One of the Eiffel Towers jams in the doorway, and the little nodule on the top pings off.
    â€˜The problem with that lot,’ says Miss Golightly, ‘is that they’ve no taste and too much money,’ She slaps her hand over her mouth. ‘Shh – I never said that. Most unprofessional.’
    â€˜But you’re right,’ says Lorna. ‘No manners either. Mum told Eddie Henderson he wasn’t welcome in the shop because he was so rude.’
    â€˜Really?’ says Mrs Golightly. ‘I always thought Mrs Henderson was rather nice.’
    I try to picture what they even look like. All fairly enormous, as I remember. Like their houses and cars.
    â€˜Oh, I think she’s OK. It’s Eddie really. He’s won the lottery twice, you know. Mum says the chances of that are something like 28 million to one.’
    â€˜Well, good luck to them,’ says Miss Golightly, slamming her foot down on the accelerator and sending us flat against the seat back.
    As we whizz past Dando’s Surf Shack I peer in past the baseball caps and skates to see if I can see Dave Dando – but if the overweight middle-aged man behind the counter is Dave, I’d have been hard pushed to identify him as the boy on the bike.
    â€˜There,’ says Miss Golightly, screeching to a halt outside our house. ‘Is your Granddad in?’ she asks.
    â€˜He’s always in,’ I say, before I realise that I don’t want Miss Golightly to come inside and see last night’s dinner scattered across the kitchen. ‘But he might be asleep.’
    â€˜Jolly good,’ she says, unsticking herself from the driver’s seat and swinging past me towards the front door.
    â€˜Can I come?’ asks Lorna, still holding most of a loo roll against her nose.
    â€˜Um,’ I say, but she’s already in the house.
    I rush through to find Miss Golightly holding