The old RAF officer didn’t appreciate being challenged like this. “I know my way around a pair of ladies’ knickers, thank you very much, Squadron Leader!”
Grandpa tugged on the rope of knickers a few times to make sure it was secure. Next he held on tight with both hands, and started to lower himself down the side of the building. The silk of the knickers was surprisingly strong – it held his weight easily.
Little by little he descended to the ground.
For a moment, it looked like disaster had struck when Grandpa lost his footing. One of his slippers slipped on the wet bricks, and fell off his foot. It hit Jack on the head on the way down.
THUNK!
“Sincere apologies for that, Squadron Leader.”
Jack picked up the slipper and held on to it –mightily impressed by the old man’s strength and agility – until Grandpa reached the ground. The boy saluted him as he always did, and handed over his slipper as if it was a medal.
The man unbuttoned his pyjamas to reveal he was wearing his blazer and slacks underneath.
“Thank you, old boy!” said Grandpa, as he pushed his foot back into his slipper.
Jack looked across the grounds of Twilight Towers. The searchlights were circling at the far end. If they moved quickly, they had a chance of not being seen and making it over the wall and to freedom.
“Right, we have to get going straightaway, sir,” whispered the boy.
“Oh yes, Squadron Leader, there is one small thing.”
“What’s that, Wing Commander?”
“Well, there are now quite a few of us on the escape committee.”
“What do you mean, ‘escape committee’?” asked Jack.
“Psst!” came a voice from above.
The pair looked up. There were a dozen or so elderly people standing on the roof. All were in their pyjamas and nightdresses. More and more were joining them by the moment, as they squeezed themselves through the tiny hatch.
This was now a mass breakout.
41
Jolly Good Show
“Come down in an orderly fashion!” ordered Grandpa. “One at a time, please.”
As the first elderly inmate abseiled down, Jack remarked, “But I thought they were all fed pills to keep them asleep?”
“They were. But I shared out my Smarties!”
“You did ask for rather a lot.” The boy felt a wave of panic crash over him. “But how many of you are escaping tonight?”
Jack’s grandpa sighed. “I hardly need remind you, Squadron Leader, that it’s every British prisoner of war’s duty to escape.”
“ALL OF THEM?!”
“Every last one! Put the kettle on, Mr Churchill, we’ll be home by teatime!”
As each elderly person reached the ground, Grandpa saluted them, and they took off their nightwear to reveal their ‘civilian clothes’ underneath.
“Good evening, Major!” said Grandpa to the old gentleman sporting a ruddy nose and monocle. Jack recognised him from his visit on Sunday.
“Lovely night for a breakout, Wing Commander!” replied the man.
Grandpa saluted the next old chap to come down the rope of knickers.
“Good evening, Rear Admiral!” he said.
“Evening, Bunting. Jolly good show on the escape,” replied the Rear Admiral, who once must have been very high up in the navy. He was the man from the living room the day before, the one with the hearing aid that whistled so loudly it made everyone else deaf.
“Oh, thank you, sir.”
“Be sure to come and have a glass of bubbly aboard ship with me to celebrate when it’s all over!”
“Be delighted to,” replied Grandpa. “Goodnight and good luck.”
“Good luck to you too. So it’s this way to the wall, is it?” went on the Rear Admiral, in no apparent rush to escape.
Jack pitched in, “Yes, sir. Just climb up the overhanging branch of that willow tree, and you can get out that way.”
“Right right right, I’ll take a stroll over there then,” replied the Rear Admiral. “See you on the other side.” With that he saluted the boy and began to light his pipe.
“Maybe wait until you are over the wall until you smoke your pipe, sir?” suggested Jack. “You don’t want to attract the searchlights.”
“No no no. Of course not. Silly of me!” agreed the old chap, as he put the pipe back in his pocket and stepped out into the darkness.
Suddenly, something of an uproar was coming from the roof. The final escapee, the large lady Jack had spied yesterday in the living room, had become stuck in the hatch. Now she was calling down for help.
“I am stuck, Wing Commander!” she cried.
“Oh no!” sighed Grandpa. “It’s Trifle. She must be one of the WAAFS.”
“Women’s Auxiliary Air Force?” replied the boy.
“Yes, but instead of mapping out positions of enemy aircraft, she has been at the cakes! I should have known she wouldn’t make it through that little hatch. Squadron Leader, you stay here. I am going back up!” he announced.
“No, sir!” replied Jack defiantly. “It’s too dangerous. I am coming with you!”
Grandpa smiled at the younger man. “That’s the spirit, Squadron Leader!”
With that, the pair began climbing back up the rope of knickers to the roof.
“It’s much harder going up!” said the old man.
By now the knickerage had been stretched to very nearly breaking point. Seeing all the rips in the silk on the way up, Jack wasn’t convinced it was going to take Mrs Trifle’s weight on the way down. But there was no plan B. They would have to try.
Finally, the pair managed to hoist themselves up on to the roof.
Jack and his grandfather stood looking at stuck Mrs Trifle and pondered what to do.
“One arm each, I think,” said Grandpa confidently, as if he was an expert on extracting large women from small hatches.
“This is most undignified!” announced the elderly lady. Mrs Trifle was frightfully posh. “And I need to use the powder room.”
“The what?” asked Jack.
“The, um, convenience,” replied the lady.
“The what?” The boy had no idea what she was talking about.
“The, erm, um, the commode!”
“Sorry, I don’t know what you are talking about!” “I AM BURSTING FOR THE BOG!” shouted Mrs Trifle angrily.
“Oh, sorry…”
“It will have to wait a moment, Trifle,” said Grandpa. “First, we have to get you out of this hatch.”
“Yes! If you wouldn’t mind!” Her tone was sarcastic, as if it was all Grandpa’s fault. It certainly wasn’t his fault that the lady had spent a lifetime eating cake. But there was no time to get into all that now.
“If only we could get someone up the rear end to push!” mused the old man.
“Oh, charming!” complained the posh lady loudly. “You make me sound like a broken-down bus!”
“If you could keep it down, please, madam!” whispered Grandpa. “You will alert the guards.”
“I won’t say another word!” replied Mrs Trifle. Still a little too loudly for Jack and Grandpa’s liking.
“Ready, Squadron Leader?” asked the old man.
“Ready, sir,” replied the boy.
Grandpa and Jack took an arm each.
“Take the strain, Squadron Leader,” said Grandpa. “Now, on three, heave. One, two, three, HEAVE!”
Nothing.
The lady did not budge an inch.
“This is not my idea of a nice night out!” said Mrs Trifle, helping nobody.
“Again!” ordered Grandpa. “One, two, three, HEAVE!”
Still nothing.
“Next time someone asks me to join them on an escape, please remind me to politely decline!” muttered the lady, mainly to herself. “I only said ‘yes’ for the free Smarties.”
“One last go!” announced Grandpa. “One, two, three, HEAVE!”
This time, somehow, Mr
s Trifle managed to slide down the hatch back into Twilight Towers.
“Well, thank you very much!” complained the old dear. “Now I’ll be stuck here forever!”
“What on earth are we going to do, sir?” pleaded Jack. “We are never going to get her free and time is running out!”
42
Bruises on the Bottom
“I am thinking, Squadron Leader,” said Grandpa as they stood on the roof of Twilight Towers. “I don’t want to leave a single man…”
“Or lady!” corrected Mrs Trifle.
“…or lady behind. We need backup. Let me call on the army and navy.” With that, Grandpa scuttled over to the edge of the roof and called out into the darkness below, “Major? Rear Admiral?”
“Yes, sir?” came the voice of the Major from on the ground.
“I need reinforcements!”
Without hesitation, the two old war heroes made their way back across the lawn and up the rope of knickers. They were followed one by one by a dozen or so of the other escapees.
“Would you mind hurrying up, please?” complained Mrs Trifle. “I do need to use the loo!”
The old folk joined together to form two human chains. At the end of each chain someone held on tight to one of Mrs Trifle’s arms.
“Teamwork!” announced Grandpa. “That’s what will win us this war. Teamwork! We all need to work together.”
“Hear hear!” agreed the Major.
Next, Grandpa called out his command. “One, two, three, HEAVE!”
This time Mrs Trifle shot up through the hatch. In an instant everyone flew backwards to end up piled on top of each other in a heap.
OOF!
“Teamwork, sir!” remarked Jack with a smile, as he climbed out from the bottom of the pile.
“Bravo, one and all!” said Grandpa. “Right, now everyone back down the rope quick smart.”
One by one the other old folk made their way back down. Mrs Trifle was the last in line.
Surveying her for a second, Jack whispered, “I am not sure the rope will take her weight, sir.”
“I checked, and rest assured they are all top quality British-made knickers, Squadron Leader. I am sure everything will be fine if Trifle just listens to my instructions and takes it slow…”
Mrs Trifle was not one to listen to instructions from anybody. Without waiting, she grabbed hold of the knickerage and launched herself off the roof with far too much gusto. Just as Jack had predicted, the rope could not take her weight. As she slid down it at alarming speed…
“AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!”
…a pair of the silky knickers RIPPED.
And Mrs Trifle landed on the ground.
Thud!
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” she screamed.
Fortunately, she did not fall too far and was not badly injured. Just a few bruises on her bottom. The rope of knickers followed her down and landed on top of her head.
“Now I am covered in knickers!” she complained loudly. “I can never show my face in polite society again!”
“Shush!” shushed Jack.
But it was too late. The nurses stationed atop the observation towers could not help but hear the very loud Mrs Trifle. Immediately the searchlights circled. One picked out Mrs Trifle, another the gaggle of elderly escapees hurrying across the lawn.
“Quick! Run for the willow tree!” Jack called down from the roof. “It’s your only way out!” Helping each other as much as they could, the old folk surged towards the wall.
Suddenly a blinding blaze of lights lit up the building and all its grounds.
DING DONG DING DONG
DING DONG DING DONG!
The bell in the tower began to ring. The alarm had been raised.
One of the searchlights caught Grandpa and Jack on the roof. For a moment they were framed in the glare of a light. With the rope of knickers broken, there was no way down.
They
were
trapped.
43
Down the Hatch
Jack and his grandfather watched from the roof of Twilight Towers, as the elderly escapees disappeared over the perimeter wall.
“Good luck, men,” muttered the old man, giving them one last salute before they vanished from view.
They were being chased by a gang of nurses who had rushed out of the building in pursuit, carrying torches and huge nets.
Meanwhile, Jack and his grandfather were four floors up. The rope of knickers had ripped. The drainpipe had been yanked off the wall. If they tried to jump, they would surely break every bone in their bodies. Jack could only see one way out. “Down the hatch, sir!”
“Oh, is it cocktail hour?” asked Grandpa innocently. “I’ll have a gin and tonic, please.”
“No, I mean we have to go down the hatch. It’s the only way out!”
“Oh, yes, of course. Good thinking, Squadron Leader. I must recommend you to the Air Chief Marshal for a medal!”
The boy thought he would burst with pride. “Thank you, sir. But there’s no time to lose! Let’s go!”
Jack took his grandfather’s hand to guide him across the sloping roof. One slip and they could plummet to their deaths. But just as they reached the hatch, they spotted the end of Matron’s baton snaking out of it. The end fizzed with electricity. Jack suddenly realised it was in fact a cattle prodused by farmers to give cows an electric shock to move them in the right direction. But in the matron’s hands it must be some kind of instrument of torture.
The little lady crawled out of the hatch and rose to her feet. As she stood on the roof, she held the cattle prod aloft, her cape billowing in the wind.
One by one Nurses Rose and Blossom forced their bulky bodies through the hatch too, and joined her.
With a sinister smile on her face the wicked lady edged forward, a nurse on either side.
“I knew you two were up to no good in the garden yesterday,” she purred. “There has been a mass escape tonight, and you are the ringleaders!”
“Don’t punish him, please. I beg you!” pleaded Jack. “The escape was all my idea!”
“Actually, Kommandant, it’s me you should be sending to the punishment block. This young chap here had absolutely nothing to do with the plan!”
“SILENCE!” she shouted. “Both of you!”
And there was silence.
Matron pressed the button on her cattle prod and a huge bolt of electricity shot out of the end.
“What are you going to do with that, Kommandant?” asked Grandpa.
“I had this cattle prod specially modified to have ten million volts passing through it! Enough to knock a grown man out cold with just one press of this button.”
Grandpa moved his grandson behind him protectively. “That’s barbaric, Kommandant!” he exclaimed. “The use of torture is forbidden on prisoners of war!”
A manic smile spread over Miss Swine’s face. “Just you watch me.” With that she poked Nurse Rose with the cattle prod and pressed the button. A white and blue bolt leaped off its end.
For a moment the nurse’s entire body was lit up by electricity. Matron took her finger off the button and the nurse fell to the floor unconscious.
As Miss Swine chuckled to herself, Jack and his grandfather looked on in stunned silence. How could she do that to one of her own henchwomen? Even Nurse Blossom appeared nervous, and shifted uncomfortably on her feet.
“Sorry, I just need to see that one more time,” ventured Grandpa. The old man was betting on the matron falling for his ruse, and taking out the other nurse as well.
“I am not falling for that, old man!” announced Matron. Nurse Blossom breathed a sigh of relief.
“Grab them!” ordered Miss Swine.
The burly nurse stepped over her unconscious colleague and surged forward. With her thick arms outstretched, she made a lunge at them.
“The bell tower!” cried Grandpa.
Twilight Towers’ bell was still ringing to sound the alarm. As they got c
loser, the noise became deafening. The bell was suspended in a little turret; beneath it was a long, thick rope.
“GRAB HOLD OF THE ROPE!” shouted the old man. The problem was the rope was moving up and down rapidly, as someone below tugged on it to ring the bell.
Jack looked over his shoulder to see Nurse Blossom advancing on them. Miss Swine was close behind, brandishing her cattle prod. There was no choice. Jack took a leap and seized the rope with both hands. Immediately he felt as if his palms were on fire as he slid down the shaft at great speed.
“Argh!” cried the boy.
Jack looked down and saw it was Nurse Daisy below him, swinging on the rope. Just as she looked up, Jack crashed down on top of her.
Bash!
The nurse broke his fall AND was knocked out cold in the process. RESULT! thought the boy. But as Nurse Daisy splayed on the floor, her wig came off, revealing a shaved head underneath. On closer inspection, the nurse had stubble all over her face too.
She was a man!
44
All Sorts
Standing at the bottom of the bell tower, Jack heard a noise above his head. Looking up, he saw Grandpa coming down the rope at quite a speed. The boy quickly stepped aside, out of the old man’s way.
“Look, Wing Commander, she’s a man!” said the boy as Grandpa landed. Now it made sense why the nurses at Twilight Towers were so big and burly. “Maybe they all are!”
Grandpa peered down at the man. “Oh well, it takes all sorts, I suppose. I trained with an excellent pilot named Charles. At the weekends, he would dress up and tell us all to call him ‘Clarissa’. Made an extremely pretty woman. Had one or two marriage proposals.”
Sadly there wasn’t time to properly process this fascinating snippet of information. Right now, they had to find some way out of Twilight Towers. Grandpa knew the inside of the building much better than Jack. “Where to next, Wing Commander?” the boy asked.
Grandpa's Great Escape Page 11
