Grandpa's Great Escape

by David Walliams

  “I am thinking, Squadron Leader, I am thinking…” said the old man.

  But before Grandpa had a chance to do so, the boy cried, “Look out!”

  Jack yanked his grandfather out of the way as Nurse Blossom hurtled down with her – or perhaps rather ‘his’ – very hairy legs wrapped around the rope.

  “Quick! This way!” said Grandpa, as the pair hurried off.

  Just as Nurse Daisy was coming to, Nurse Blossom landed on top of her, knocking her out cold again.

  Bash!

  In the collision, Nurse Blossom’s wig came off too. She was also aman! All the nurses at Twilight Towers must be, thought Jack. Nothing at this old folk’s home was as it seemed.

  As the skin-headed heavy scrambled to his feet, Jack and his grandfather reached the door. It was open and they quickly slammed it shut behind them.

  SLAM!

  As Nurse Blossom (or whatever his real name was) pounded on the door with his fists that were heavy as bricks, Jack and Grandpa forced their backs up against it. The ‘nurse’ was as strong as a bull, and they couldn’t hold him back for much longer.

  “The sideboard, Squadron Leader!” ordered Grandpa.

  The old man kept his back against the door and his grandson pushed the heavy wooden piece of furniture into place in front of it, trapping Nurse Blossom and Nurse Daisy in the bell tower.

  The door began to slam against the sideboard…

  SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!

  …and the pair dashed down the long corridor towards the front door. Just then, the sound of footsteps echoed down the stairs. It was a platoon of more ‘nurses’, no doubt on their way to search for the escapees.

  “They’re everywhere,” whispered Jack, as he and his grandpa hid on the other side of a grandfather clock while the ‘nurses’ passed. “We’ll never be able to sneak out now, sir!” said the boy.

  “Well, in that case… I learned this at training camp!” announced the old man. “Our only hope of escape is to disguise ourselves as them.”

  Jack wasn’t sure he had quite understood what Grandpa had just said.

  “You mean…”

  “Yes, Squadron Leader. We must put on their uniforms.”

  45

  Wigs and Make-up

  As they stepped out of the changing room, Jack and his grandfather made an unlikely pair of nurses. The boy was unusually short and there wasn’t time for Grandpa to shave off his bushy moustache.

  The changing room was situated at the back of the old folk’s home and had a long rail of nurses’ uniforms. Jack and Grandpa had hastily grabbed a couple and put them on over their own clothes. At the far end of the changing rooms stood a tall mirror, and a table with a selection of wigs and a big box of make-up which Jack and his grandfather had raided. Grandpa had become a blonde bombshell, his grandson a sultry brunette.

  The boy was right; the nurses were clearly all men in disguise. Twilight Towers was certainly no ordinary old folk’s home. Each time you peeled off a layer, it became stranger and stranger.

  As they tottered down the corridor, a group of ‘nurses’ bundled past, charging towards the front door. Grandpa nodded to Jack that they should join them. Their only chance of escape now was to try and blend in with the staff. They had to pray that they would not get stopped as they made their way along the labyrinth of corridors towards freedom.

  As the ‘nurses’ reached the front door, Grandpa and Jack followed a short distance behind. But just as they were about to escape out into the dark, a voice bellowed. “STOP!”

  All the ‘nurses’ turned around to see Matron standing behind them, still wielding her souped-up cattle prod. Nurses Daisy and Blossom were flanking her. These two now had their wigs on back to front and they both looked even more ridiculous than before. Matron approached her army of ‘nurses’ slowly, gently tapping the palm of her hand with her instrument of torture.

  As discreetly as they could, Jack and his grandfather shuffled themselves to the back of the group so as not to be seen by her.

  “The rest of our inmates seem to have got away. For now. But the two ringleaders of tonight’s breakout are still here in Twilight Towers. I am sure of it,” Miss Swine announced. “I can feel it in my bones. And they are the ones who must not escape.”

  “Yes, Matron,” came a chorus of voices, all far too deep to be women.

  “My orders are for you all to split up into pairs, and search every last nook and cranny of this building until you find them. If you fail, I will turn my cattle prod on you!” she shouted.

  “Y-y-y-yes, Matron.” Despite all the ‘nurses’ being big strong men, it was clear they lived in mortal fear of their boss.

  With great authority, she barked further orders to her troops. “Nurses Tulip and Hyacinth, search the dormitories.”

  “Yes, Matron,” they answered, before marching off towards the stairs.

  “Nurses Violet and Pansy? You two search this floor, the living room, the kitchen. Everywhere.”

  “Yes, Matron,” replied the next pair before they marched off too.

  “Nurses Daisy and Blossom?”

  “Yes, Matron?” they answered in unison.

  “You can search the basement.”

  “But I am scared of the dark!” complained Nurse Daisy.

  Miss Swine’s face contorted in displeasure. She was not used to having her orders disobeyed. She slapped the palm of her hand hard with her cattle prod. “You will do as I say!”

  “Yes, Matron!” replied the nervy ‘nurse’, now trembling in fear.

  The pair headed off.

  That left Matron alone in the corridor with her newest ‘nurses’, Jack and Grandpa.

  “As for you…” Miss Swine was looking straight at them. The pair had no one to hide behind now. The boy was standing on his tiptoes in an attempt to look taller. Meanwhile his grandfather was covering his moustache with his hand and pretending to cough.

  “I haven’t seen you two here before. Who are you?!” demanded Miss Swine.

  Jack put on his deepest voice. “Nurses, Matron.”

  “What are your names?”

  The pair had to think fast if they were not going to get busted.

  “Nurse Bluebell!” replied Jack.

  “And Nurse Graham,” said Grandpa, forgetting he was meant to choose a girl’s name.

  Jack gently jabbed him with his elbow. “I mean Gardenia!”

  Slowly and calmly Matron approached them. Both instinctively put their heads down in a desperate attempt not to be recognised. This made Matron even more suspicious. Still tapping the prod in her hand she stepped closer and closer.

  “Take your hand away from your face,” she whispered to the old man.

  Grandpa pretended to cough again. “Bit of a cold coming on!”

  The lady brought her hand up to his. She held on to it tight, digging her long, sharp nails into his skin. Then with considerable force she pulled his hand down from his face, revealing his RAF standard-issue moustache.

  “Just forgot to pluck today,” Grandpa tried.

  Needless to say, Matron was not convinced. Slowly but surely, she brought up her prod and moved it towards the old man’s face. As she did so a bolt of electricity shot out of the end.

  Grandpa gulped in terror.

  GULP!

  46

  Burned Moustache

  “Excuse me! I just need to use the convenience,” announced Mrs Trifle just at that moment. As she spoke she strode in through the front door behind Grandpa and Jack. Instead of escaping over the wall with all the other inmates, it seemed the old lady had done a U-turn and waltzed straight back into Twilight Towers in search of the loo. This was certainly not part of the plan, but it proved an excellent diversion, just when Jack and his grandfather desperately needed one.

  Miss Swine turned her head to see Mrs Trifle breeze through the front door. With Matron’s cattle prod inches from his face, Grandpa seized the opportunity and grabbed the woman’s wrist. For a moment, the tw
o were locked in a silent wrestle. The lady was much stronger than the old man could ever have imagined, and the end of the prod moved closer and closer to his face. Suddenly a bolt of electricity shot out.

  It burned one end of his moustache off.

  In a fizzle of flames, a small plume of grey smoke rose past Grandpa’s eyes. He looked down at his once magnificent facial hair. Now one side was nothing more than a blackened tip, like a sausage that had been left on the barbecue for a hundred years. The blackened tip then crumbled, and fell to the floor as dust.

  Ever since he was a young man, Grandpa had prided himself on looking immaculate – even in a nurse’s uniform. But the double-breasted blazer with polished gold buttons, the RAF tie, the neatly pressed grey slacks, all amounted to nothing if his moustache wasn’t perfectly twizzled.

  For Grandpa, for one end of his moustache to be burned off was treason. The fury he felt gave the old man an almost superhuman surge of strength. He forced the woman’s arm back towards her.

  “Squadron Leader, grab that bedpan, quick!” he ordered.

  Jack picked up the porcelain pot from the floor, and in his confusion went to offer it to Mrs Trifle.

  “Thank you, dear,” said the old lady. “It’s not ideal but if I can aim straight I can make do!”

  “No, Squadron Leader! Use it on the Kommandant!”

  Matron spun around, just as the boy lifted the bedpan above his head and crashed it down on hers.

  The pot exploded into hundreds of tiny pieces.

  “Well, thank you very much!” complained Mrs Trifle. “I was all ready to go.” The three looked down at the evil woman, now lying on the carpet spread out like a starfish.

  “There’s no time to lose!” barked Grandpa.

  “Can I PLEASE just have my tinkle?” demanded Mrs Trifle.

  “Trifle – pull yourself together, woman! It will have to wait!” Grandpa ordered.

  “You can’t wait when you get to my age!” huffed the elderly lady. “When you need to go, you need to go! Now please, escort me! I thought you were a gentleman?”

  “I am a gentleman!” exclaimed Grandpa, though his gentlemanliness was being tested to the limit.

  “Then why are you dressed like that?” the old lady enquired.

  “It’s all part of the escape plan!” snapped Grandpa. “Now please, madam, there is no time to lose, take my arm.”

  “Thank you, Wing Commander. My poor… erm… what is the polite word?” She pointed to her behind.

  “Bottom?” ventured Grandpa.

  “No!” said Mrs Trifle.

  “Bum!” said the boy cheekily.

  “NO!” Mrs Trifle was quite cross now. “I am a lady! I was going to say posterior! My poor posterior is awfully sore after that fall. I can hardly walk in a straight line!”

  With her arm in his, Grandpa gallantly accompanied the elderly lady down the long corridor and round the corner to the nearest lavatory.

  “Oh, what a gentleman! I feel like a debutante at her first society ball!” blushed Mrs Trifle.

  “Squadron Leader?” called out Grandpa.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “You keep an eye on the Kommandant!”

  “Yes, sir!” replied the boy with a smile. Although shaking with nerves he was rather pleased with himself to have been the one to deliver the knockout blow to the evil Miss Swine.

  Jack peered down at her. The face looked strangely familiar with those little eyes and upturned nose. But before Jack had time to think about where he might have seen her before, Miss Swine began to flicker back to life. The bedpan had knocked her out all right, but now she was slowly coming to. First her fingers began to twitch, and then her eyes began to blink.

  The boy felt a deep sense of dread.

  47

  Shake & Go

  “Wing Commander!” Jack called down the corridor, a note of panic creeping into his voice.

  “Go ahead, Squadron Leader,” came Grandpa’s voice from around the corner.

  “The Kommandant is beginning to come to, sir!”

  The next sound Jack heard was his grandfather knocking on the toilet door.

  KNOCK KNOCK.

  “Will you hurry up in there, Trifle?!”

  “Never rush a lady on the lavatory!” barked Mrs Trifle from inside.

  “Please, madam!” ordered Grandpa.

  “I have waited long enough for this, I am going to enjoy it, thank you very much!”

  Just then the boy noticed that the matron’s limbs were snaking into life too.

  “Sir!” he called out in desperation.

  The old man tried once again to hurry the lady up.

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

  “Finished!” she finally answered from the other side of the toilet door. “Typical! There’s no paper. Would you be a darling and find me some? The absorbent kind, please, I can’t abide the shiny white!”

  “There’s no time, Trifle.” Grandpa was trying to be polite but from his tone of voice it was clear he was becoming increasingly irritated with the old lady now.

  “What do you expect me to do?” complained Mrs Trifle.

  “Just shake and go! That’s what us men do!”

  There was silence for a short while, before Mrs Trifle announced in a cheery tone, “Why, thank you! That’s actually done the trick.”

  The boy turned to see the two elderly escapees finally reappearing around the corner. Suddenly Grandpa shouted, “Squadron Leader! LOOK OUT!”

  Jack spun around. Matron was now scrabbling to her feet, and reaching out the prod in the boy’s direction.

  “RUN!” shouted Grandpa.

  Miss Swine lunged her weapon at Jack like a sword, electric bolts shooting from the tip. Sparks flew on to the thick velvet curtains behind him. Immediately they were set alight, and flames licked the ceiling.

  48

  Inferno!

  To escape the flames, Jack backed down the corridor. He reached Grandpa and Mrs Trifle. Together the three hurried away from the fire. Matron staggered after them, her body framed by the oncoming inferno. The flames were moving fast, and soon they were catching up with her.

  “ARGH!” cried Miss Swine at the blazing heat.

  The fire was rapidly becoming out of control, devouring everything in sight. Flames leaped along the corridor in front of her. In an instant, Miss Swine had become trapped by the blaze.

  “You take care of Trifle, old boy,” ordered Grandpa. “I should save the Kommandant!”

  “What?” Jack couldn’t believe his ears.

  “They may be my enemy, but as an officer and a gentleman it is a matter of honour – I must try and save the Kommandant!”

  With that, the old man shielded his face from the flames with his arm, and walked bravely towards Miss Swine.

  “Kommandant!” he said. “Give me your hand!”

  He stretched out his arm through the flames.

  Miss Swine reached out her hand to meet his. She grabbed it tight, and smiled craftily at the old man.

  “Take this, you gibbering old fool!” she cried, as she lifted her cattle prod high into the air.

  “WATCH OUT!” cried the boy.

  Bash!

  It was too late.

  Miss Swine had walloped Grandpa over the head with her cattle prod, knocking him unconscious to the ground.

  “Noooo!” cried Jack.

  49

  Hot as Hell

  A crazed smile crossed Miss Swine’s face. It now looked like she was going in for the kill. But as she violently swung her cattle prod up in the air to zap Grandpa this time, she lost her balance on her high heels. Matron toppled backwards into the flames, screaming. “AAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

  Jack rushed forward and dragged his poor grandfather from the path of the inferno.

  Their only way out of the building was the front door, and that was now blocked by the blaze. As the boy had already discovered, the back doorway of Twilight Towers had been bricked up and t
here were bars on all the windows. The place was a death trap.

  Thick black smoke was now billowing along the corridor. It was rapidly becoming as hot as hell.

  Jack took a deep breath. He needed to find some way out of Twilight Towers. And fast. Now he had two elderly people in his care. His grandfather, who had been knocked out, and a posh old lady who was rapidly getting on his nerves.

  Holding Grandpa’s ankles under his arms, he pulled him to where Mrs Trifle was waiting a safe distance from the flames.

  “Well, I must say,” began the old lady, “this place has really gone off!”

  “Will you help me?” pleaded the boy. “Take a leg!”

  For once Mrs Trifle did what she was told. “May I enquire as to where we are going?”

  “Anywhere! Away from the fire!” yelled the boy.

  Together they dragged the old man along the corridor and up the huge flight of stairs.

  It was hard going, and poor Grandpa’s head bumped on each step.

  “Ow! Ow! Ow!” he murmured at regular intervals.

  The upside was, it was waking the old man up, and by the time they had reached the first floor he had opened his eyes again.

  “Are you all right, sir?” asked the boy as he bent down over him.

  “Yes. Just a nasty bump on my head. Next time I try and save the Kommandant, please stop me!”

  “Will do, sir!” replied Jack, taking off his nurse’s uniform to reveal his own clothes underneath.

  “Excuse me,” said Mrs Trifle, tapping the boy on the shoulder, “how do you propose we get out of this dreadful place?”

  “I don’t know yet!” snapped the boy. In his mind he flicked through all the rooms in Twilight Towers he had seen when he had first climbed up the drainpipe a few nights ago. Suddenly, Jack had an idea so crazy that it might just work.

  “Sir, do you still have the roller-skates I gave you the other night?” he said.