Operation Eiffel Tower by Elen Caldecott Page A

putter. ‘And the Leaning Tower of Pisa is looking a bit too wonky.’
    Jack nodded, then picked out a ball and set off for the first hole. Lauren sat on her favourite bench, looking out at the navy blue sea.
    Jack lined his ball up on the tee and positioned himself for the shot. The fixed pump on the Niagara Falls meant that water rushed fiercely between him and the hole. He took the holes slowly and methodically. He wasn’t after an impressive score today – he just wanted to be here in the sunshine, putting balls.
    After about twenty minutes, he noticed Lauren had moved off her bench and was standing by the side of the green.
    ‘Jack,’ she said, ‘I’m going to the grabber machine.’
    ‘Why?’ he asked.
    ‘To see if I can do any better than Ruby. Lend me 20p?’
    ‘We should really put all our money in the Paris fund,’ he said.
    Lauren shrugged, ‘Twenty pence won’t make a difference. Just lend me the money, would you?’
    Jack felt around in his pocket. He had a few coins in there. He thought about the jar at home, half-full. There was nearly enough money for one ticket to Paris in there, but one wasn’t enough. ‘It should go in the jar. No one ever wins on the grabber anyway.’
    ‘Come on, Jack. Don’t be mean.’
    ‘No.’
    Lauren frowned. ‘It’s just 20p. And I can spend it winning something for Ruby instead of putting it in a jar that’s never going to have enough money in it.’
    ‘Yes it will!’
    ‘And even if it does – which it won’t – Mum and Dad aren’t talking to each other! They hate each other. Sending them to Paris won’t make a blind bit of difference.’
    ‘Yes it will!’ Jack felt his eyes sting.
    ‘Don’t start crying!’ Lauren snapped. ‘I’m only telling you the truth. Grow up, Jack!’
    Jack felt a flame of anger burst into life inside him. He wiped his eyes. ‘I’m not crying. And they will go to Paris. We just need to be patient, Paul says. We need to wait for them to calm down.’
    ‘And then what? They shake little fingers and say sorry? Well, they won’t. Dad’s gone and he isn’t coming back.’
    ‘He hasn’t gone! He’s just up the road.’
    Lauren shook her head. ‘He’s gone and he isn’t coming back and you have to get used to it.’ She spat out the words, then spun round on her heel. She stalked away, heading out of the course.
    Jack let his club fall against the Taj Mahal. He pulled a twenty-pence piece from his pocket. Should he have given it to Lauren? Or should it go in the Paris fund with the money he’d won and the rest of their coins? Was there really no point? He shook his head angrily. Lauren was wrong – he was sure she was wrong.
    He sat down on the edge of the green. The twenty pence lay in his palm. On one side was the queen’s profile. He flipped it over. On the other side was a rose, its petals opening up to the sun, and above it, a crown. Flowers and Crowns. Hearts and Minds.
    He would toss for it.
    Heads, he would put it in the Paris fund.
    Tails, he would give it to Lauren.
    He flipped the coin high into the air, caught it and slapped it on to the back of his hand.
    He uncovered it slowly.
    Tails.
    Tails?
    Jack looked out towards the beach. There were families there, building sandcastles, eating ice creams, playing games. He looked away.
    There was no sign of Lauren.
    He would spend the money on the grabber machine, like Lauren said. If he was giving up, then at least he could try and get something for Ruby while he was at it.
    He handed his club and ball back to William. He didn’t bother replying to William’s questions about scores and holes. He just waved and turned away.
    He walked along the front until he reached the arcade. He could feel the heat off the ground through the soles of his shoes; it was as though the whole place was burning. At the grabber machine he dropped in the twenty pence into the slot. The lights at the sides of the machine flashed into life; two buttons, forward and sideways, glowed