‘Here he is at last!’ exclaimed John.

Tony came puffing into the clubhouse all red in the face.

‘Sorry I’m late old chums. I was just beating up the boy next door.’

John looked around. ‘Are we all here now?’

Yes, they were all there, the trusty seven. John was the biggest boy so he was their leader. Then there was Tony, Amanda, little Alexander, Phillip, Peter and Daryl. Amanda dug Tony in the ribs. He bit her on the head.

‘Stop larking around you two,’ said John sternly. ‘This is important. The church fete is on next March. We need to come up with some ideas for a stall. So put your thinking caps on. We need to think of things we can do to make everyone think we’re really super.’

There was a deep silence as their minds struggled with concepts. The clubhouse was dark and a bit smelly. It was really an old chook shed. They’d chased all the chooks out last winter and taken down the roosts, although little Alexander had insisted on keeping a hatching box to sit in. Phillip had stolen an old padlock from his father’s shed and they it securely locked. John kept the key in his underpants. It was here they solved mysteries and planned plans.

‘Well?’ asked John.

‘Um . . . what about a coconut shy?’ suggested Tony. ‘We could line all the poor people up and the townspeople could pay five shillings to chuck coconuts at them.’

‘Jolly good idea Tony,’ giggled John. ‘And I vote we put Amanda in charge of it.’

‘So what do I get to do?’ asked Tony gloomily. Then he brightened. ‘I know! I’ll have a first-aid tent. I’ll mix Ratsak with red cordial and sell drinks to everyone, and when they feel sick I’ll sell them a glass of alka seltzer for two pounds! For ten pounds they can come and lie down in the tent and read comics. For twenty pounds I’ll ring an ambulance.’

‘Capital idea, Tony,’ chortled Daryl.

‘What about a display?’ suggested John. ‘I’ve got a big photo of me with my famous cousin George in America. And we can stick up photos of when we helped beat up those people with moustaches that Cousin George didn’t like. And we can march up and down. I’ll bring a bugle.’

As long as those ghastly Green children from the village don’t come along and spoil it, thought Daryl. He grimaced as he remembered how ill-mannered they’d been when cousin George came to visit, standing up and pointing and shouting in rude voices.

‘What about food?’ piped little Alexander, fiddling with his sock.

‘We could jolly well raffle a hamburger and a milkshake,’ yelled Amanda.

‘Capital,’ chortled Daryl. ‘Peter, you’ve been jolly gloomy this morning. What’s eating you?’

‘Nothing,’ said Peter glumly. Sulky Peter did so want to be leader.

Philip’s eyes sparkled ‘Hey gang, remember what fun we had at the last fete? We pretended there were pirates landing on the beach in boats and everyone got frightened and then we found those two boys out fishing and dressed them up in pirate hats and made them sit out on the rocks all day and all night. My, didn’t everyone say we were clever?’

‘Golly, we can’t do that again, Philip’ chortled Daryl.

‘Of course we can, no-one remembers a jolly thing in this village.’

‘What will you do John?’ shouted Amanda.

‘Well look, I mean, I’ll just, I’ll just be going on the radio alot saying, you know, that we’ve discovered a plan by gypsies to come and steal all our things . . . . and, and . . . ‘

‘We’ll dress little Alexander up in gypsy clothes and put a bag over his head and tie him to the village flagpole," chimed in Amanda. "And we’ll make fridge magnets saying THREE CHEERS FOR THE SECRET SEVEN! and we’ll give them away at our stall!’

‘And everyone’ll say we’re super!’ finished Alexander triumphantly.

‘Hurrah!’ they all cried. "And now it’s time for tea!’

-Clara