All of a sudden, one of the chasing Harrier Jump Jets launched a missile that whizzed past the Spitfire and exploded in the sky.
It was clearly meant only as a warning. If they wanted to, the Harriers could shoot the Spitfire down in the blink of an eye. Still, a sense of dread crashed down over Jack.
An unidentified fighter plane flying over Central London was a major security risk. The Jump Jets really had been sent up to bring them down.
At that moment a voice came over the Spitfire’s radio.
“This is Harrier Red Leader. Spitfire, you are flying in restricted airspace. You must land immediately. Over!”
“We will never surrender! Over!” replied Grandpa.
“We do not wish to harm you, but we have orders to shoot you down if you don’t! Over!”
“Over and out!” said the old man before turning off the radio.
60
Speeding Through Fire
Behind them Jack and his grandpa could hear another missile being launched. The old man turned the plane on its side and the rocket skimmed past the Spitfire’s belly.
BOOM!
The second missile exploded right in front of the Spitfire’s nose. Jack closed his eyes as the plane sped through the fire.
“You must do what they say!” shouted the boy over the deafening noise of the explosion.
“I’d rather die up here a hero, than yield and live like a slave on the ground.”
“BUT—!”
“You must bail out, though, Squadron Leader!” shouted Grandpa over the noise.
“I am not leaving you, Grandpa!”
“Grandpa?” Suddenly the old man sounded confused.
“Yes. Grandpa,” repeated the boy. “It’s me, Jack – your grandson.”
“You are my…grandson?”
“That’s right.”
“Jack?” asked
the old man.
For a moment it seemed Grandpa was totally present in the here and now.
“Yes. Jack.”
“My wonderful grandson. Jack! I can’t let you get hurt. You must bail out now.”
“I don’t want to leave you!” cried the boy.
“But I must leave you.”
“Please, Grandpa, I don’t want you to die!”
“I love you, Jack.”
“I love you, Grandpa.”
“As long as you love me, I can never die.”
With that, the old man turned the plane upside down, pulled back the canopy and yanked on the boy’s parachute cord.
“Up, up and away!”
shouted Grandpa after his grandson, giving him one last salute.
61
Down to Earth
At once the parachute opened, and the drag plucked Jack from the fighter plane. The two Harrier Jump Jets thundered past him as he watched the Spitfire climb higher and higher.
As the boy descended back to earth, he stared up at the sky. Soon the Spitfire became nothing more than the tiniest dot in the distance. Soon that dot disappeared from sight altogether.
“Up, up and away,” said the boy to himself, tears streaming down his face.
When Jack looked down he saw London coming into view. The busy metropolis was peaceful from up here. The river, the parks, the roofs of all the great buildings were neatly packed next to each other like squares on a board game.
One sunny afternoon in Grandpa’s flat they had played at parachuting out of a stricken Spitfire. So despite never having done it before, the boy knew exactly how to steer himself down to safety, by pulling on the parachute’s lines.
Jack spied a wide-open space below him. There was lots of greenery, so he assumed it was a park. He guided himself down in its direction to be assured of a soft landing.
Soon Jack passed the tops of tall trees. Remembering to bend his knees, he hit the ground at last, and rolled on the neatly cut grass. He lay there, utterly exhausted. For a moment he closed his eyes. It had been a long night.
Without warning, he felt something wet and warm on his face. The boy opened his eyes to see a number of small dogs, all licking him back to life. After a moment, he realised all the dogs were in fact corgis. Jack sat up with a start. From a distance, he saw a rather posh-looking lady neatly dressed in a tweed skirt, quilted jacket and headscarf. When she moved closer, Jack realised where he had seen her face before.
On a stamp.
It was the Queen.
Behind her was the unmistakeable outline of her magnificent home.
The boy had landed in the garden of Buckingham Palace.
The Queen peered down at Jack and mused, “Aren’t you a little young to be in my Royal Air Force?”
62
Salute to a Hero
Grandpa’s funeral was a week later. The local church was packed out with those wanting to pay their final respects to this hero.
Jack was sitting in the front row in a pew between his mother and father. The boy knew the coffin he was staring at was empty. Mysteriously, the Spitfire had never been found. Neither had Grandpa’s body.
The Harrier Jump Jet pilots reported seeing the old plane flying higher and higher into the earth’s atmosphere, before disappearing from their radar screens. There were days and nights of searches, but all without a trace of the Spitfire turning up anywhere.
A Union Jack was draped over the coffin. It was the British way to honour those in the military. Sat on the coffin was Grandpa’s most illustrious medal, the Distinguished Flying Cross.
Directly behind Jack sat Raj, who was crying and blowing his nose loudly like he was playing the tuba. Along from him sat all the elderly people that Grandpa and Jack had rescued from Twilight Towers, including Mrs Trifle, the Major and the Rear Admiral. All were forever grateful to the man who had helped them escape – Grandpa.
What happened at Twilight Towers had become something of a national scandal. It had made the front page of the newspapers and the television news. Jack didn’t want to take any of the credit, but Grandpa had become famous.
The old folk’s home may have burned to the ground, but the ‘nurses’ were still at large. What’s more no one knew what fate had befallen the mastermind of it all, Twilight Towers’ wicked matron. Had Miss Swine perished in the fire? Or was she busy hatching her next evil plan?
On the other side of the aisle, a squadron of old World War II pilots were seated. These elderly comrades of Wing Commander Bunting sat proudly with their backs perfectly straight. All of them had some kind of military moustache, be it the –
All wore blazers and slacks, with rows upon rows of medals clinking together on their chests.
All the children from Jack’s history class were there too. They had petitioned their teacher, Miss Verity, to have time off their lessons to pay their respects. They had loved Grandpa’s visit and would never forget his thrilling stories of the Battle of Britain. Of course the children wanted to support their classmate Jack too.
On learning what a true hero the old man was, Miss Verity felt mightily guilty at how she had treated him in the history class that day. Now she was shedding a tear for him as well. Putting a comforting arm around her was the security guard from the Imperial War Museum. Romance had clearly blossomed between the pair since she gave him the kiss of life.
Behind them on the back pew were Beef and Bone, the two hapless detectives from Scotland Yard. They had got to know Jack and his parents well now they were heading up the police investigation into Twilight Towers. Having seen their interrogation technique, Jack did not hold out much hope. However, the boy knew they meant well and even in his deep sadness he was pleased they could attend Grandpa’s funeral too.
After some music from the church organ, Reverend Hogg began his sermon.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the passing of a grandfather, a father and a friend to many.”
“He was the only man I ever truly loved!” announced Mrs Trifle suddenly with a huge sense of melodrama.
But as the boy
stared at the vicar, he stopped listening to what he was saying. Jack had begun to notice that there was something very suspicious about the man.
63
Broken Noses
As the boy stared, he spotted that the vicar was wearing thick patches of make-up on his face, as if to cover something up. What’s more Reverend Hogg kept stealing nervous glances at Jack from behind his glasses as he spoke. His diamond-encrusted gold watch jangled on his wrist, and when he saw the boy staring at it he pulled his sleeve down awkwardly to hide it. Reverend Hogg’s shiny black shoes looked like they were made from hugely expensive alligator skin. Oozing from him was the sickly sweet aroma of champagne and expensive cigars. This was no ordinary vicar who helped others. This was someone who helped himself.
“Now turn to page 124 in your hymn books, ‘I Vow to Thee, My Country’.”
Reverend Hogg nodded at the organist, a big burly man with ‘LOVE’ and ‘HATE’ tattooed on his knuckles. In a sudden flash Jack realised he was a dead ringer for… Nurse Rose!
As the music began, all the mourners rose to their feet and began to sing.
“I vow to thee, my country, all earthly things above,
Entire and whole and perfect, the service of my love…”
During the hymn, Jack gazed at the vicar’s eyes. They were small and piggy. He had seen those eyes somewhere else.
“I heard my country calling, away across the sea,
Across the waste of waters she calls and calls to me.”
As the hymn continued, the boy took in the choir. Scars down their faces, broken noses, teeth missing. Not one of them knew a single word of the hymn and they mumbled their way through it in low growly voices. Could the one in the middle with the gold tooth be… Nurse Daisy?
“I hear the noise of battle, the thunder of her guns,
I haste to thee my mother, a son among thy sons.”
Jack looked over his shoulder to see the vicar’s helper, the verger, standing at the back. As was traditional, he wore a long black gown, but more unusually he had a skinhead and a tattoo of a spider’s web across his neck. Again, he looked very familiar. Was this Nurse Blossom?
“And there’s another country, I’ve heard of long ago,
Most dear to them that love her, most great to them that know…”
As the hymn drew to an end, Jack was sure he was close to solving the mystery. Memories flashed through his mind… Miss Swine smoking that big fat cigar, the vicar’s zeal in recommending Twilight Towers, that little upturned nose they shared… And if all these church helpers, the organist, the choir and the verger, were Twilight Towers’ fake nurses – the criminal gang, intent on stealing the life savings of the elderly people that they were meant to be looking after – then surely their leader wouldn’t be far away.
Continuing with the service, Reverend Hogg announced, “I am now going to read Psalm 33, ‘Sing joyfully to the Lord’…”
Jack couldn’t contain himself any longer and rose to his feet.
“STOP THE FUNERAL!”
he bellowed.
64
Pants on Fire!
Stopping a funeral midway through was unheard of. None of the people gathered in the church could believe the boy had done it. Suddenly all eyes in the room were on Jack. Except one or two wandering glass eyes that belonged to the elderly airmen.
“What is the meaning of this?” thundered Reverend Hogg.
“What on earth are you doing, son?” whispered Dad.
“Please, Jack, just sit down and be quiet!” hissed Mum, pulling the boy by the arm to sit back down on the pew.
“The vicar…” began the boy. He was trembling slightly and as much as he tried to, he couldn’t quite keep his finger from wobbling.
“The vicar and the matron… they… they are… THE SAME PERSON!”
GASP!
Four hundred people gasped in shock. Except the Rear Admiral who was more than a little deaf, and as his hearing aid whistled loudly he called out, “What did you say, boy?”
“I said,” began Jack again, much louder this time, “THE VICAR AND THE MATRON ARE THE SAME PERSON. HE’S A CROOK!”
“Sorry. Someone was whistling in my ear. I didn’t hear a ruddy word.”
His friend the Major was sat right next to him and shouted, “HE SAID THE VICAR IS A CROOK!”
“A COOK?” The Rear Admiral was not getting it at all. “WHAT DOES HE COOK?”
“I’LL EXPLAIN LATER!” bellowed the Major.
“No, I, er, that vile little child is lying!” protested the vicar now. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His mouth was so dry it had started making clicking sounds when he tried to speak. The man was unravelling like a ball of string.
Meanwhile the choir looked at each other nervously. They had been rumbled.
“HE MADE US DO IT!” cried ‘Nurse Daisy’ suddenly. “PRETEND TO BE NURSES AT AN OLD FOLK’S HOME!”
“SILENCE!” snapped the vicar.
“I’LL CONFESS EVERYTHING! I AM TOO PRETTY FOR PRISON!”
“I SAID SILENCE!”
One of the rats was already leaving the sinking ship. More were sure to follow. The boy felt he was on a roll now. “So ‘Miss Swine’ did survive the fire at Twilight Towers after all! You have been hiding in plain sight all this time!”
“I have done nothing wrong!” protested Reverend Hogg. “I only changed their wills so I could give all the money to the poor!”
“Liar! Liar!” shouted the boy.
“Pants on fire!” continued Raj.
“You spent what you stole on champagne and cigars and a brand-new sports car!” exclaimed Jack.
Reverend Hogg had been well and truly BUSTED.
65
An Army of Oldies
As he stood at the altar, the vicar’s tone became angry and bitter. “So what if I did, child? What use was all their money anyway to the stupid old farts?”
Needless to say, this did not go down well in a room full of elderly people. The church was soon bristling with angry murmurs.
“After every Sunday service I would empty the collection tin. All the miserable old fools would give me was a few copper coins and an old button. How could I buy a holiday home in Monte Carlo on that?”
“OH, BOO
HOO HOO!” heckled Raj sarcastically.
“Shut your face, you!” shouted the vicar.
“Ooooooooh!” mocked Raj.
“So I hatched a plan with my gravediggers. I would start my own old folk’s home, and forge new wills for all the old stinkers, making their money MINE…”
“Could you talk a bit slower, please?” called out Detective Beef from the back, a notebook in his hand. “I am trying to write all this down.” Detective Bone rolled his eyes.
“You are a wicked, wicked man!” shouted Jack.
“And woman!” added Mrs Trifle.
“Yes! And woman!” cried the boy. “A wicked, wicked man and a wicked, wicked woman. You treated all the old folk with incredible cruelty!”
“Oh, who cares about them?! They were all completely gaga!”
Needless to say, this did not go down well in the room either.
“HOW DARE YOU!” exclaimed Mrs Trifle.
“GET HIM!” ordered the Major.
“CHARGE!” shouted the Rear Admiral.
With that the old folk in the church rose to their feet and began stampeding towards the vicar and his gang.
“Let the police handle this!” shouted Detective Bone. But the ex-residents of Twilight Towers were in no mood to listen. They wanted REVENGE. As the crooks tried to flee the church, the old folk chased after them. Walking sticks, handbags, Zimmer frames… all became weapons. Mrs Trifle began whacking the vicar as hard as she could with a hymn book. Meanwhile, the Major had cornered the verger (aka ‘Nurse Blossom’) and pinned him against the wall with the lectern. The Rear Admiral had both ‘nurses’ Rose and Daisy in headlocks, as Wing Commander Bunting’s old RAF colleagues lined up to whack them over their
heads with prayer cushions.
The children from Jack’s history class all cheered.
This criminal gang didn’t stand a chance against an army of oldies.
“I must come to church more often,” commented Raj. “I never knew it could be so much fun!”
66
Goodbye
Jack’s parents looked on at all the chaos unfolding in the church, and then turned to their son.
“I am sorry we didn’t believe you at first, Jack,” said Mum.
“You are a very brave boy to take on an evil crook like that, son,” added Dad. “I know Grandpa would have been very proud of you.”
On hearing that, Jack wanted to smile and cry at the same time. So he did both.
Seeing her son’s tears, Mum put her arms around the boy. Despite the strong pong of Stinking Bishop (an eye-wateringly smelly cheese), it felt good.
Dad put his arms around both of them, and for a moment everything seemed right in the world.
The running battle between the gang of heavies and the army of oldies was now spilling outside into the churchyard. Jack’s classmates excitedly followed the action as the two detectives tried and failed to restore law and order.
“I should go home and start making the cheese sandwiches,” said Mum. “Everyone is meant to be coming back to ours after the service.”
Grandpa's Great Escape Page 15