The Bold Beasties Clubhouse

Madge had packed everything for kite afternoon.

A raincoat. A sunhat. A blanket. A spare blanket in case someone sat on the first blanket with a muddy bottom.

She checked her bag.

Then she checked it again.

“Excellent,” she said.

The bag fell over.

“Mostly excellent.”

At the Clubhouse, Ford had made eight paper kites. Each one had a short ribbon tail and a wooden reel. Today they were flying them in the big meadow with Richie's aunt.

Madge counted the kites.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

She counted the reels.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

She counted the friends at the door.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

“Someone's missing!”

Seven faces turned towards her.

Madge counted again.

“Who?” asked Connor.

Madge looked down at her own feet.

“Me.”

At the meadow, Richie's aunt chose a clear space away from trees and roads and showed everyone how to hold a reel. The wind tugged at Madge's whiskers.

“Lovely kite weather,” said the aunt.

Madge looked at the sky. There was one small grey cloud.

She took out her raincoat.

Then she put it back.

Then she checked that it was still there.

Richie's kite rose first. It had orange stripes and a tail that wriggled like a dancing carrot.

Pandora's followed, bright blue against the sky.

Madge's yellow kite lay on the blanket.

“Shall we try yours?” asked Connor.

“In a minute.”

She checked the bag. She checked the sky. She checked that everyone had somewhere to put their drinks.

“In a minute,” she said again.

Siegfried sat beside her.

“Are you waiting for something?”

Madge held up the raincoat.

“What if it rains?”

“We have coats.”

“What if my kite gets stuck?”

“We can ask for help.”

“What if I don't like flying it?”

Siegfried thought about that.

“You can stop.”

Madge put the coat down.

Those were useful answers.

But the questions hadn't gone away.

Across the meadow, Richie laughed as his kite swooped. Connor's kite was still on the ground because he had stopped to admire the carrot tail.

Madge wanted to be out there.

She also wanted to check the sky again.

A tear slid down her nose. She rubbed it away quickly, before anyone could see.

“They're all having fun,” she whispered. “Why am I the only one who can't stop worrying?”

Siegfried offered her a clean napkin.

“Yesterday I wanted to hide my painting before anyone arrived,” he said. “I had a very wobbly tummy.”

“You looked quiet.”

“I was quiet. And worried.”

He stayed beside her while she wiped her nose.

Richie's aunt came over and sat on the spare blanket.

“You're doing a lot of looking after everyone,” she said.

“Someone should.”

“I'm looking after the group today. Would you like to tell me what's on your mind?”

Madge told her about the rain, the tree and the feeling in her tummy that kept saying CHECK AGAIN.

The aunt listened to all of it.

Then she said, “Let's do one useful check together.”

They checked the open flying space. They checked the kite's ribbon and reel. The aunt checked the breeze.

“We're ready to try,” she said. “I'll stay beside you.”

“Even if I'm still worried?”

“You don't have to wait for every worry to leave. And you can stay here with us if you would rather watch first.”

Madge picked up her yellow kite.

Its ribbon tail was tangled around a biscuit tin.

“That's an unusual way to fly a biscuit,” said Connor.

Madge giggled.

Ford helped untangle the ribbon. Richie's aunt held the kite while Madge took a few steps back with the reel.

The breeze lifted.

The yellow paper fluttered.

Then it flopped gently onto the grass.

Madge blinked.

Nothing dreadful had happened.

It was simply on the grass.

“Again?” asked the aunt.

Madge nodded.

This time the kite caught the breeze and rose above her head.

Up went its yellow corners.

Up went its ribbon tail.

Madge's ears lifted too.

“Oh!”

She looked up, and up, and up.

For a little while she forgot to look in the bag.

Then something cold landed on her nose.

Plip.

A raindrop.

“I KNEW IT!” cried Madge.

Everyone looked at her.

Madge looked at the cloud.

Another drop landed on Connor.

“It found me too,” he said.

The aunt helped them reel in their kites. They carried the paper kites into the Clubhouse's covered porch before the shower grew heavier.

Madge opened her bag.

Out came the raincoat.

Out came the blanket.

Out came the spare blanket, which turned out to be exactly right for eight damp bottoms.

“Good packing,” said Ford.

Madge sat down with everyone else.

The shower pattered on the porch roof.

Her yellow kite rested against her knees.

“You were right about the rain,” said Pandora.

“Yes,” said Madge. “And I nearly missed the flying while I waited for it.”

Connor opened the biscuit tin.

“We could have a biscuit while we wait for the next bit of weather.”

Madge chose one.

Then she counted the friends along the blanket.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—

She paused.

“Eight,” she said, tapping her own chest.

And this time she counted herself in first for another turn.