"I saw a prowler last night," announced Bridget.
"Bridget," we all groaned. Bridget was the baby of our club, the dimwit, the one we laughed at. What Anne was to the Famous Five, what Bets was to the Five Find-Outers, Bridget was to the Fantastic Five, and then some.
"All right, don't believe me then. But I'm telling you I did," she protested sulkily.
Karen leaned back in her wooden chair, and placed her hands behind her blonde head. Her eyelids were caked in blue powder eyeshadow that clashed horrendously with her amber eyes. "So where was this prowler, then, Bridget?" she queried.
"In the alleyway at the bottom of our garden," Bridget told us, a smug expression spreading across her plump face. "I saw him running up the alleyway." She reached for the biscuit barrel, which stood on the workbench amid Karen and Sam's dad's tools and our scrunched-up Coca-Cola cans. The Fantastic Five always met at Karen and Sam's, because they were the only ones who had a shed and whose parents didn't mind us using it. When we first formed the club, we'd thought we had everything going for us: a shed, passwords, bikes, even a dog (Karen and Sam's Yorkshire terrier Tyke, who joined us in the shed but snored through meetings). Yet in over a year we hadn't had what Enid Blyton would have termed "even the sniff of an adventure". Karen said it was because our club didn't have any boys, but I suspected that that was because she was just starting to show an interest in the opposite sex. The rest of us certainly didn't want boys in our club. We were happy the way things were.
"What time was this?" I asked. I lived only two doors away from Bridget's house, but my upstairs bedroom overlooked our street and not the little alleyway that led past a row of six broken-down, disused garages to a dead end at Bridget's garden fence.
"It was about midnight. I know that because I looked at my clock," replied Bridget, selecting a chocolate biscuit from the barrel. She looked round at us, defying us not to believe her. "It's true," she insisted. "I couldn't see his face or what he was wearing, but I could see someone running up there."
"You can see if someone's in the alleyway at night," I confirmed. "There's a lamp-post up on Meadowbank Road and it lights up the alleyway quite well." My thrill at realising we might be on the brink of a Famous Five-style adventure helped overcome my reluctance to admit that we had silly little Bridget to thank for it.
We had formed the Fantastic Five just over a year ago, during the long summer holidays of 1974. Karen was our leader, by virtue of being the eldest. She was twelve, with long blonde hair that she wore scooped back in a pony-tail. I was eleven and secretly thought I should be the leader, mainly because I had the complete collection of not only the Famous Five books, but the Five Find-Outers, Secret Seven, and the 'Adventure of', 'Secret' and 'Mystery' series as well. If anyone was an expert on Enid Blyton, clubs, adventures and mysteries, I was. When I wasn't reading books or attending Fantastic Five meetings, I was scribbling my own mystery stories, and planned to be a children's author when I grew up. The other three members of the Fantastic Five were Karen's ten-year-old sister Samantha, known as Sam, who was a smaller, slightly slimmer version of Karen; Sam's best friend Deb, also ten, a pretty, dark-haired, dark-eyed girl who couldn't always attend meetings because she trained three times a week at the local gymnastics club, intent on becoming the next Olga Korbut; and Bridget. Bridget was nine, plump, mousy-haired and mousey natured, and she was also Karen and Sam's cousin.
"I wonder what he was doing down there," said Sam. "There's no reason to go down that alleyway at night. It doesn't lead anywhere, other than to Bridge's back garden."
"Maybe he's a burglar, checking whether people are at home," I suggested. "You know, watching to see what time people go out, what time they come back. They get to know people's routines, then they burgle their houses while they're out." I knew all about the dangers of rigid routines from my dad. "Dorrie," he would say to my mum, "don't go shopping at the same time every Friday. You never know who's watching."
Fear replaced the smug expression on Bridget's face. "Do you think he knows my daddy works nights?"
"Bridget," we chorused.
"You'll need to look for him again tonight, Bridget," Karen told her, firmly. "Eli, can you watch for him too?"
I was known as Eli, because I wanted a boy's name like George from the Famous Five and, obscure as the name was, it was the best I could do with Elizabeth. I was jealous as hell of Sam for having a name you could masculinise sensibly. "I can try," I replied, doubtfully. The only rooms that overlooked the alleyway were my parents' bedroom and the bathroom. My parents went to bed at around midnight, and one of them would probably be in the bathroom around the time I needed to keep watch.
"Hey, if this is an adventure, we all want to be involved," said Deb. "Not just Eli and Bridget."
"OK," I said. "Bridge and I will look out for him tonight and report back tomorrow. If he's snooping around again tonight, we'll work out a way where we all get to see him the next night."
"We could all camp out in my garden and sneak out later and maybe hide in one of the garages," suggested Deb. "The weather's nice at the moment and Mum and Dad won't mind us camping."
This was true. Deb's mum and dad were gloriously laissez-faire in the style of Aunt Fanny and Uncle Quentin: Deb was allowed to do pretty much whatever she wanted. Karen and Sam were almost as lucky. Unfortunately Bridget and I had one thing in common: we were both lumbered with overprotective parents who didn't like us to be out of their sight once darkness fell.
"That's a good idea, Deb," enthused Karen. "Let's all ask our parents tonight anyway and camp out at Deb's tomorrow. Even if he doesn't come tonight, you never know - he might come tomorrow night instead."
"Yeah, and we can hide in one of those garages like I said, and follow him home when he leaves," added Deb.
We all looked around at each other excitedly. "We'd better take a look at the garages," I suggested. "See if there's anywhere to hide. Ready to go home, Deb? Bridge?" The three of us stood up.
"See you all tomorrow then," said Karen. "Don't go telling your mummy about our plans, Bridge."
"Of course I won't!" snapped Bridget.
Deb, Bridget and I cycled through the Pendley Vale Estate that separated Enfield Lane where Karen and Sam lived from Greenfield Road, where we lived: me at No. 1, Bridget at No. 6 and Deb at No. 19. Two years ago, there had been no Pendley Vale Estate, no fourteen-storey skyscrapers looming over rows upon rows of small, squat terrace houses with poky gardens and broken fences—just fields. Fields I'd never been allowed to explore alone or even with friends because, my parents said, there were "strange men about". I mourned the loss of the fields and particularly the strange men, who may well have been jewel thieves or smugglers. But at least the Pendley Vale Estate had given me the freedom to cycle to and from Karen's.
Today, instead of heading straight home, Deb, Bridget and I stopped at the corner of Meadowbank Road and Greenfield Road, and cycled down the alleyway. On the right-hand side were the back gardens of Nos 3, 4, 5 and 6 Greenfield Road. On the left were six dilapidated garages: four with bashed-in blue doors, one with a graffiti-strewn door hanging off, the one nearest Bridget's house with no door at all. We checked them out. They were small and square, had just the one entrance, and contained nothing other than empty beer cans and bottles, and discarded cigarette packets. They reeked of urine.
"One of these with the broken doors is best to hide in," commented Deb. "Nobody would notice we were inside."
I agreed. "And if the prowler decided to hide, he'd probably pick the one that's easiest to get into. We wouldn't want him hiding in the one we're in."
We agreed that the third garage up from Bridget's garden would be the best hide-out, then cycled back to our houses for tea.
Over steak and kidney pie and chips, I asked my parents hesitantly, "Is it OK if I camp in Deb's garden tomorrow night? Everybody else is – Karen and Sam and Bridget."
"What d'you mean, camp?" asked Dad. I could sense he was going to say "no". Oh, why, why, why couldn't my dad be an irritable scientist like Uncle Quentin and want nothing more than a peaceful, childless house?
"Well, sleep over in Deb's tent. All of us."
"It's not safe," Dad objected.
"It is," I protested. "We'll all be there, and we'll be in Deb's garden and we'll only have to shout out for her mum and dad if we're frightened or anything!"
"Oh, let the child spend the night with her friends, Charles," said Mum. "You know Sheila and George will keep an eye on them."
Thank you, Mum, I thought. Dad always gave in when she said something was OK, as he did now. "All right, then, do what you want. But I can't see what the fun is in sleeping in a tent when you could be in a comfortable bed."
I went to bed thrilled at the prospect of camping out the following night. I knew Deb's parents would have agreed, and that Karen and Sam would be allowed to stay over too. I was confident that Bridget's very strict mother would say no, and was glad of that. It would be easier to sneak out of Deb's garden and hide in the garage and follow the prowler if we didn't have the mouse with us, squeaking with fear. My anticipation about the next night helped overcome my disappointment at not being able to watch for the prowler that night: as expected, my dad was in the bathroom at around midnight, and my mum was already in bed.
As I headed downstairs for breakfast the next morning, I heard my father say: "Was he round again last night?"
"Shh," I heard Mum hiss. "Beth's coming downstairs. I wouldn't like her to overhear and let anything out to Bridget."
They must be discussing the prowler, I decided. They'd obviously noticed him around and were worried that Bridget might be scared if she knew there was a stranger prowling around the back of her house when only she and her mum were at home. My mum was worried about Bridget's mum. I knew that, because I'd heard her on the phone one day to my Auntie Janet. "I suppose you've heard about Rosie Walton? Well, I couldn't believe it. I don't know if I should say something to her -
but well, it's none of my business."
At ten o'clock Bridget, Deb and I met up outside my house ready to cycle round to Karen and Sam's.
"Did you see him again last night, Bridge?" I asked.
"Yes," answered Bridget. "He was running up the alleyway at midnight again."
"Great!" said Deb. "We can spy on him tonight, then. Can you stay over at my house, Eli?"
"Yes," I nodded. "Mum and Dad said I could. Can you believe it?"
"Great!" repeated Deb.
"I can too!" almost shouted Bridget. "My mummy said I could!"
This was a big surprise. Bridget's mum was so overprotective that she'd even installed a baby alarm in Bridget's bedroom so that if someone broke into the house through Bridget's window, she would hear them. And Bridget was only allowed to go round to Karen and Sam's during the daytime because Karen and Sam's dad was Bridget's mum's brother.
"Great," said Deb again, with a marked lack of enthusiasm.
Once at Karen and Sam's we hatched our plan over ginger nut biscuits and Coke. We would arrive at Deb's at eight o'clock and set up camp in the shed. We would go to bed at around ten o'clock. Deb's parents always went to bed at about half-past ten because her dad started work early, so we would have to wait till then to sneak out to the garages.
"But he's not there till midnight," objected Bridget.
"He leaves at midnight," Karen pointed out, impatiently. "We don't know how long he hangs around there or what he does, do we?"
Bridget looked scared. "What if he's already there when we arrive?"
"We'll just have to approach the alleyway really quietly, and if he's there hide behind the fence at the end," I told her.
The day dragged by. We all went home at dinner-time. I asked Bridget to come round to my house in the afternoon, not so much because I wanted to spend time with her, but because I was convinced she would tell her mummy about our plans and suddenly all our parents would know about it and we would be in huge trouble. We spent the afternoon in my garden, playing card games and quietly discussing the prowler.
After tea, we all met up in Deb's garden. Deb and her parents had been on regular camping holidays, so Deb knew how to put up the tent. We placed sleeping bags inside it; Deb, Karen and Sam had their own, and Deb's parents had lent theirs to Bridget and me. Deb's mum cooked us some sausages for supper on their little camping stove. At ten o'clock we said goodnight to Deb's parents and snuggled down in our sleeping bags, still in our day clothes. Deb squatted next to the flap of the tent, watching her parents' house lights.
"They've gone to bed," she reported at last.
Hurriedly, we put on our shoes, and crept out of the tent and across the lawn to the back gate. It would have been quicker to reach the alleyway by walking up Greenfield Road, but we didn't want to risk passing my house and Bridget's, so we spent an extra five minutes going via the back streets. When we finally reached the alleyway, we crept silently down to the chosen garage.
And waited.
And waited.
I flashed my torch at my watch. We'd been waiting fifteen minutes and it felt like for ever.
"I want to go home!" whispered Bridget.
"Shh!" we all hissed.
"I want to go home," she repeated, louder this time. "I don't like it here."
"Oh, bloody hell! I knew we shouldn't have let her come," grumbled Karen.
"She could go home," I suggested. "There's no sign of the prowler yet."
"I'm not going by myself," wailed Bridget.
"That's OK," Karen snapped. "Eli and I will come home with you, then we'll come back. Sam and Deb, you stay here."
"What if the prowler comes?" demanded Sam.
"Hoot like an owl, like they do in books," I suggested.
This met with no response. Karen and I grabbed Bridget and led her down the alleyway to her parents' back fence. We helped her to clamber over it, then scurried across the lawn to the back door. A light was on downstairs; Bridget's mother was still up.
The door opened when Karen tried the handle. This surprised me, especially given the baby alarm. My parents always kept our back door locked because, my dad said, "You never know who's about."
"You go in," whispered Karen to Bridget. "And we'll go back. Tell her we came with you, but don't say a word about the prowler or about us being in those garages, right?"
It was then that we heard yelling from inside the house.
"That's my mummy!" shrieked Bridget, barging indoors. Karen and I followed her through the verandah, through the kitchen, and into the living room, where we stopped dead right behind her.
A tall, dark-haired man was standing in front of the gas fire, threading his belt through his trousers. Bridget's mother was sitting on the arm of the fireside chair, trying to smooth her dishevelled clothing.
"Mummy," gasped Bridget. "Why are you wearing a school uniform?"
And that, as Enid Blyton would have said, was "the end of the adventure." And it was the end of the Fantastic Five as well. Karen started dating a boy from her street and stopped returning my calls. Deb was given a spot on her club gymnastics team, which meant more practice and less time for socialising. With Deb so busy, Sam started hanging around with other friends, and Bridget's parents split up and moved away from Pendley.
As for me, my parents told me it was time I stopped reading Enid Blyton and grew up a bit now I was due to start grammar school. So September found me setting off for my first day at a new school, all decked out in a white blouse and navy tunic. It looked an awful lot like Bridget's mother's.
