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squawked Nick. “You said that no one would find out.”
    “THAT’S ENOUGH!” barked Miss Boot. “You should both be ashamed of yourselves! Give back your prizes right now.”

    Nick and his grandma did as they were told. As they left the stage they found rows of angry faces staring at them.
    “BOO! CHEATS!” cried someone. Others joined in.
    Nick and his grandma didn’t wait to hear more. They grabbed their things and fled from the hall, banging the door behind them.

    Miss Boot shook her head. “Well,
    Bertie,” she said. “For once I must thank you for interrupting.”
    “That’s okay,” said Bertie. “But what about their prizes?”
    Miss Boot thought for a moment. She could return them to the table, butthere was only half an hour left and they’d have prizes left over. It seemed a terrible waste. “I guess
someone
should have them,” she said. “I don’t suppose you like scooters?”
    “LIKE THEM?” gasped Bertie.
    He could hardly believe his luck – and to think he almost hadn’t come! He couldn’t wait to zoom into school on his new stunt scooter on Monday morning. It turned out Gran had been right all along – bingo was the greatest game ever!

CHAPTER 1
    Bertie watched the golf ball roll across the lawn and into the small black cup.
    WHIRR-CLICK-PLOCK!
    It spat it out.
    “Wow!” cried Bertie. “Can I have a go?”
    Dad shook his head. “Maybe another time,” he said. In Bertie’s hands a golfclub was a dangerous weapon.
    “Please,” begged Bertie. “Just one little go!”
    Dad sighed. “All right, but for goodness’ sake take it easy.”
    Bertie gripped the club and took careful aim.
    “Gently,” warned Dad.
    Bertie swung the golf club.
    THWUCK!
    The ball flew like a missile and cannoned off the garden wall.
    “ARGH!” Dad ducked as it zoomed past his head and buried itself in the hedge.
    “HA, HA! Good shot, Bertie!” Bertie looked round to see Royston Rich getting out of his dad’s sports car. Royston got on Bertie’s nerves. His headwas so big you’d think his dad would need a larger car.
    “What do
you
want?” asked Bertie.
    “Oh, we were just passing by,” said Royston. “Actually we’ve been playing at Dad’s golf club!”
    Mr Rich put a hand on his son’s shoulder. “I’m a member at Pudsley Hills,” he said. “On the committee, in fact.”
    Dad rolled his eyes. “You don’t say.”

    “Dad’s
awesome
at golf,” bragged Royston. “He’s won tons of trophies.”
    Mr Rich chuckled. “I am pretty good, though I say so myself.” He turned to Dad. “I didn’t know you played, old man.”
    “Oh yes,” said Dad. “I’m not bad – though I say so myself.”
    “Really?” Mr Rich smiled, smoothing his moustache. “Well, we should have a game sometime.”
    “Anytime you like,” said Dad.
    “Super. Next Sunday then?”
    “You’re on.”
    Bertie couldn’t believe his ears. A golf match against Mr Rich – surely that was asking for trouble? Still, he didn’t want to miss all the fun.
    “Can I come?” he begged.
    “Why not?” said Mr Rich. “The boys can act as our caddies.”
    “Fine by me,” said Dad.
    “Me too,” said Bertie, wondering whata caddy could be.
    Mr Rich strolled back to his car. “By the way, a little tip,” he said to Dad. “Don’t lift your head when you play the ball.”
    “See you Bertie! You are
so
going to lose,” sneered Royston, sticking out his tongue.

    “Get lost, goofy!” said Bertie.
    Mr Rich drove off with a screech of tyres.

    Bertie frowned at his dad. “I thought you hated him?” he said.
    “Maurice Rich? Can’t stand the man,” said Dad.
    “So why play golf with him?”
    “To beat him, of course,” said Dad. “It’s time I taught that snooty show-off a lesson.”

CHAPTER 2
    Over supper Bertie mentioned who they’d run into that morning.
    “Maurice Rich?” groaned Mum. “What did he want?”
    “Nothing,” said Dad.
    “He wants to play Dad at golf,” said Bertie.
    Suzy