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  THWACK! BASH! SPLAT!

  “Not so hard, Bertie!” cried Mrs Nicely. “You’re slopping it everywhere!”

  “Sorry,” mumbled Bertie. “Darren said to beat it up.”

  Once it was done, Darren poured the mixture into a cake tin, ready for the oven. He checked the recipe.

  “Hang on,” he said. “We missed out the pinch of salt.” He reached for the salt jar but found it empty. “Where’s it all gone?” he asked.

  “That’s not salt, it’s sugar,” said Bertie.

  “No, it’s not, you dummy! Look at the label!” cried Darren.

  Bertie’s mouth fell open. He had put a ton of salt in their cake mix!

  “The recipe says a pinch, not the whole jar!” said Darren.

  Bertie shrugged. How was he meant to know? Sugar and salt looked exactly the same.

  “Calm down, it’ll be all right,” he said.

  “All right?” moaned Darren. “Cakes are meant to be sweet. Ours will taste like a bag of crisps!”

  Bertie and Darren inspected their sponge cake, which was cooling off after baking.

  “Looks okay to me,” said Bertie, poking it with a finger.

  Darren pulled a face. “Well I’m not eating it,” he said. “It’ll taste of salt.”

  “Once we decorate it who’s going to know?” asked Bertie.

  “Anyone who tastes it,” replied Darren.

  “But they won’t,” said Bertie. “It’s our cake and no one’s going to touch it. At least they won’t want it for Mrs Fossil’s party.”

  Mrs Nicely clapped her hands for silence.

  “Right, children, now for my favourite part,” she said. “You can ice your cake with any flavour you like and then add the decorations. Remember, I will be judging the cakes and the best one will be presented to Mrs Fossil.”

  Bertie snorted. Luckily their cake didn’t stand a chance. On the next table, Know-All Nick and Amanda Fibb were decorating a perfect golden sponge. It had lemon icing and tiny sugar flowers. Trust smarty pants Nick to show off, thought Bertie.

  They set to work decorating their own cake. Darren slopped on thick, gloopy brown icing. Next they added chocolate sprinkles, chocolate buttons, chocolate stars and chocolate shavings.

  “There!” said Bertie. “I think it looks pretty good.”

  “You haven’t tasted it,” said Darren glumly.

  The cakes were laid out on a long table for Mrs Nicely to judge. She moved down the line until she reached a brown mud pie, buried under a gloopy mountain of chocolate.

  “Good heavens! Who made this one?” she gasped.

  Bertie raised his hand. “Me and Darren.”

  “I might have known,” sighed Mrs Nicely. “Well, it’s very, er … big.”

  She hurried on to the other cakes.

  “I must say that some of these cakes look delicious,” she said. “But one stands out from the rest. Who made this luscious lemon cake?”

  Amanda Fibb and Know-All Nick stepped forward, beaming proudly.

  “Wonderful!” said Mrs Nicely. “Perfectly baked and I love the little sugar flowers. Mrs Fossil will be delighted.”

  HUH! thought Bertie. Who wanted to eat Nick’s drippy old lemon cake? It didn’t even have any chocolate! Mrs Fossil was welcome to it.

  The bell rang for break time.

  “Now, children, always leave the kitchen tidy,” said Mrs Nicely. “Bertie and Darren, you can stay behind to clear the tables.”

  Bertie rolled his eyes. Why did he always get picked for the rotten jobs?

  “Can’t we go now?” grumbled Bertie after five minutes. “We’re missing break.”

  “One more thing,” said Mrs Nicely. “Move all these cakes on to the side so they can be collected at home time.”

  She hurried off to the staff room.

  “What about our cake?” said Bertie.

  “You take it home, I don’t want it,” said Darren.

  “I bet Whiffer will eat it, he eats anything,” sighed Bertie. It seemed a terrible waste.

  The cake was dripping chocolate on to the worktop.

  Bertie frowned. “It’s starting to melt.”

  “Stick it in the fridge,” suggested Darren, “or we’ll have to wipe the tables again.”

  Bertie opened the fridge, which was packed full. On the top shelf sat Nick’s luscious lemon cake that Mrs Nicely had set aside for the party. Bertie took it out, and replaced it with their chocolate blob cake.

  “What are you doing?” asked Darren.

  “Making room for ours,” said Bertie.

  “But that’s Nick’s cake for the party!”

  “So?” said Bertie. “It can go over there with the— Ooops!”

  He accidentally tilted the plate and the cake slid off, hitting the floor.

  SPLAT!

  Bertie and Darren stared in horror.

  “Now look what you’ve done!” cried Darren.

  Bertie tried to scrape the lemon cake back on to the plate. It didn’t look quite as luscious as before. The sugar flowers were smashed and half of the icing remained stuck to the floor.

  “What are we going to do?” groaned Bertie.

  “Don’t ask me, you dropped it!” said Darren.

  Bertie looked around in a panic. Mrs Nicely would go bonkers. He opened the nearest cupboard and hid the lemon cake behind some saucepans.

  “Come on!” he said. “Let’s get out of here!”

  Back in class, Bertie and Darren didn’t mention their little accident. They didn’t even tell Eugene in case anyone overheard. Mrs Fossil’s farewell party was taking place in the staff room at lunchtime. Bertie pictured the moment when they came to present the cake and found it gone. At least no one could pin the blame on him.

  DRRRRING! The lunch bell rang. The class hurried out, but Bertie and his friends weren’t fast enough.

  “Bertie, Darren!” boomed Miss Boot. “I have a little job for you. And you, too, Eugene.”

  “But Miss, it’s lunchtime!” moaned Bertie.

  “This won’t take long,” said Miss Boot. “I need two children to serve sandwiches at the party.”

  Normally she would have chosen two sensible children but they’d all run off.

  Bertie groaned. “Do we have to?”

  “Splendid, I knew I could rely on you,” said Miss Boot. “Run down to the staff room and I’ll join you in a minute. Not you, Eugene.”

  Bertie and Darren trailed off. This was turning into one of those days.

  “Now, Eugene,” said Miss Boot. “I want you to fetch the party cake from the fridge in the kitchen. It’s a surprise, so don’t let Mrs Fossil see it.”

  Eugene nodded. At least he didn’t have to stand around serving food like a waiter. He hurried off to the kitchen. The fridge stood in the corner. On the top shelf he found a cake – but not the one he was expecting. Hadn’t Mrs Nicely picked Nick’s luscious lemon cake for the party? Eugene asked a dinner lady.

  “’Scuse me… Miss Boot sent me to fetch a cake?” he said.

  “That’s right, it’s in the fridge,” said the dinner lady.

  “You mean this one?”

  “Must be, if it’s in there,” said the dinner lady.

  Eugene shrugged. Miss Boot must know what she was doing – although the cake looked exactly like Bertie and Darren’s chocolate blob cake.

  Five minutes later Eugene knocked at the staff room door.

  Miss Skinner, the Head, answered. “Yes?”

  “I brought the cake,” said Eugene.

  Miss Skinner stared. “Is that it? Good grief! You’d better put it on the table.”

  Eugene set the cake down where he was told. He hoped Mrs Fossil liked chocolate, because there was plenty of it.

  Bertie glanced at the clock – he was starving! Mrs Nicely was watching him like a hawk while she made the tea. So far, all he’d managed to steal was one measly cucumber sandwich from the plate. How long did they have to stand here? Mrs Fossil’s party was as dull
as a Monday morning. There were no games, sweets or prizes – just teachers standing around yakking and drinking tea.

  Darren appeared at Bertie’s side.

  “We’re done for,” he muttered. “I’ve just seen the cake they’re giving her.”

  “So?” said Bertie.

  “It’s our chocolate cake!” said Darren.

  Bertie gaped. “What? It can’t be!”

  “IT IS!” said Darren. “See for yourself. They must have got the wrong one.”

  “But I left our cake in the fridge,” said Bertie.

  “Exactly,” said Darren. “That’s where the party cake was until you dropped it!”

  Bertie turned pale. This was a disaster! He’d hoped they’d choose another cake to replace Nick’s lemon cake, but not theirs. Anything but that.

  “It’s got salt in it!” hissed Bertie.

  “You’re telling me – a whole jar!” said Darren. “They’ll be sick as dogs!”

  Bertie was starting to feel a bit sick himself.

  “Where is it? We’ve got to do something!” he whispered.

  Darren pointed to the table across the room. Bertie pushed his way through the crowd towards it. But just then Miss Skinner clapped her hands…

  “Thank you all for coming,” she said. “I just want to say how much we’re all going to miss dear Mrs Fossil. She has taught at this school for twenty-five years…”

  Bertie reached the table. If he could just hide the chocolate cake they were saved.

  “…And so,” said Miss Skinner, “we’d like to present you with a little something the children have made. Bertie, would you bring the cake, please?”

  Bertie gulped. “M-me?”

  “Yes, hurry up.”

  Bertie turned pale. Everyone in the room was waiting for him! There was no escape. He carried the cake over to Miss Skinner as if it was a ticking timebomb. Mrs Fossil’s face fell when she saw the blobby mess on the plate.

  “Oh,” she said. “It’s very … um … brown, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I’m sure it tastes delicious,” said Miss Skinner. “Let me cut everyone a piece.”

  Bertie watched in horror as Miss Skinner cut thick slices of cake and handed them round to all the teachers.

  Darren edged towards the door. Bertie stood frozen to the spot as Mrs Fossil bit into her slice of cake. She chewed for a moment. Her face turned purple. She clutched at her throat.

  “URRRGH!” she croaked. “WATER!”

  “I beg your pardon?” said Miss Skinner.

  “It’s SALTY!” gasped Mrs Fossil. “Are you trying to poison me?”

  Around the room, teachers were gulping and gasping and looking as if they might be sick on their plates.

  Miss Skinner tried the cake and immediately spat it out.

  “Eugh! What is this?” she cried. “Mrs Nicely, which child made this cake?”

  Mrs Nicely had gone red. “But this is the wrong cake!” she said. “It’s not the one I chose at all. This is Bertie’s chocolate cake!”

  “BERTIE?” boomed Miss Boot.

  “BERTIE!” roared Miss Skinner.

  They both turned in time to see Bertie trying to sneak out of the door.

  Miss Boot beckoned him over with a long finger.

  “BERTIE! Come here!” she smiled. “I’ve got a lovely chocolate cake that needs finishing…”

  Bertie thumped upstairs. He was playing Hide and Seek. Darren was also hiding while Eugene was ‘it’.

  Where to hide? The bathroom? His bedroom? Wait, Suzy’s room, of course! That was the last place Eugene would look. Bertie sneaked in, closing the door.

  “Coming, ready or not!” yelled Eugene.

  Quick, under the bed, thought Bertie. He dashed over…

  CRUNCH!

  Bertie looked down. Yikes! He’d trodden on Molly Dolly!

  Suzy had had Molly Dolly since she was four. She was her favourite doll – the only one Suzy refused to part with. Bertie picked her up. Her head lolled to one side then fell off. No!

  Bertie tried to jam it back on. One of the blue eyes popped out and rolled under the bed.

  Help! Suzy would go bananas when she found out. Bertie wasn’t allowed in her room on pain of death. He wrestled with the doll’s head, but it was hopeless. He’d really done it this time.

  BLAM! The door burst open.

  “FOUND YOU!” cried Eugene triumphantly. “I got Darren, too.”

  “Only because I sneezed,” said Darren, trailing in. “What’s that?”

  Bertie held up the headless doll. “It’s Suzy’s. I sort of trod on it,” he groaned.

  Darren shrugged. “So what? It’s only a stupid doll.”

  “Not to Suzy,” said Bertie. “It’s Molly Dolly. Gran gave it to her and she goes mad if anyone even touches it.”

  “She’s lost her head,” Eugene pointed out.

  “I know that,” sighed Bertie. “And I can’t get it back on.”

  They took it in turns to try and fix Molly’s head. Darren bashed it with his fist, but that didn’t work either. Bertie sank down on the bed in despair.

  “Glue,” said Eugene. “Where do you keep the glue?”

  They found some glue in the kitchen and set to work. Pretty soon most of the glue was on Molly’s face and hair. But it hadn’t helped. Molly’s head was stuck on, but it lolled to one side. With one eye missing, she looked like something out of a horror film.

  Darren grinned. “If you ask me it’s a big improvement,” he said.

  “It’s not funny!” moaned Bertie.

  Suzy would guess who’d done it right away. Her scream would be heard halfway down the road. She’d tell Mum and Dad, and they’d make him pay for a new doll out of his pocket money. Unless… Bertie suddenly saw a way out. It was tough on Molly, but she was only a doll…

  “We’ve got to get rid of her,” he said. “If Suzy can’t find Molly, she won’t know what happened.”

  “She’ll blame you anyway,” Darren argued.

  “Maybe, but she won’t be able to prove anything,” said Bertie. “I’ll say I never touched her doll.”

  He looked around for somewhere to hide Molly. Suzy was at Bella’s house, but she’d be back soon. He had to act fast. The minute Suzy noticed Molly was missing she’d search every room in the house. Bertie broke into a smile. Molly wouldn’t be in the house – she’d be somewhere no one would find her. He hurried downstairs and went outside to the dustbins. Opening the brown bin, he dangled Molly by one leg.

  “Ah! Poor thing!” sighed Eugene.

  PLOP! Bertie dropped Molly into the rubbish, pushing her down under the soggy layers of potato peel and tea bags.

  “Bye-bye, Molly,” he said, closing the lid. “Don’t lose your head!”

  “Do-do-doo, do-do-doo!”

  Bertie always sang to himself when cleaning his teeth before bedtime. Mainly because he knew it drove his sister mad.

  Suzy poked her head round the door. “Have you been in my room?” she demanded.

  Bertie stopped singing.

  “WHAT?” he said.

  “My room – have you been nosing around?” repeated Suzy.

  “Why would I go in your stinky old room?” asked Bertie.

  “I can’t find Molly Dolly,” said Suzy. “She was there when I went to school.”

  Bertie gulped, swallowing a mouthful of toothpaste. He’d forgotten about the doll. Still, he was safe – he’d disposed of the evidence.

  “Well, have you seen her?” asked Suzy, glaring.

  “Seen who?”

  “Molly Dolly!” snapped Suzy.

  “No!” said Bertie. “I haven’t touched your dopey doll.”

  “Well, someone has. Did one of your smelly friends go in my room?” said Suzy.

  “No! I told you!” cried Bertie.

  “Hmm.” Suzy narrowed her eyes. “If you’re lying, you are in big trouble,” she warned.

  Bertie leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. He’
d got away with it. Suzy couldn’t prove a thing. In a couple of days the bin men would collect the rubbish and Molly Dolly would be history.

  Back in her bedroom, Suzy searched her room again. She could have sworn that Molly was there earlier. Maybe she’d fallen under the bed? She got down on her hands and knees to look. No Molly – but something small and shiny caught her eye. She reached a hand under the bed. A tiny blue glass eye stared back at her.

  Molly Dolly had blue eyes! Suzy frowned. Someone had been in here and no prizes for guessing who – her bogey-nosed little brother. But if this was Molly’s eye, where was the rest of her?

  Suzy had a terrible thought. She rushed downstairs and hurried outside. She opened the brown bin.

  “NOOOO!”

  Poor Molly Dolly lay buried under tea bags and potato peel. As Suzy picked her up, Molly’s head came off in her hand. Her face was sticky and she squinted from one eye.

  “You wait, Bertie!” said Suzy. She’d pay him back for this. She’d put a worm in his lunch box; she’d leave a slug in his bed… But would that bother Bertie? No! He loved worms, slugs and disgusting things!

  Suzy stroked Molly’s sticky hair. Hang on… Bertie thought the doll was gone forever – well, he was in for a shock. Molly Dolly was about to rise from the dead!

  It was almost midnight. Bertie lay in bed, fast asleep.

  BOO-HOO-HOO!

  His eyes blinked open. What was that? Had he been dreaming? He was sure that he heard crying.

  BOO-HOO-HOO!

  There it was again – a faint sobbing coming from somewhere outside his room. Maybe Whiffer had escaped from the kitchen and got upstairs? But it didn’t sound like Whiffer. He’d be scratching at the door and whining to be let in, or jumping on the bed. Bertie sat up and listened.