Ribblestrop Forever!

  ‘Millie,’ said Miles, ‘pull the lever back a bit. Slowly.’ He held the mouthpiece. ‘We’re doing it. We want to come down, okay? We want to be on the ground!’

  ‘The numbers should be falling now—’

  ‘Over!’

  ‘What? No, listen: when the big hand’s at zero, that’s the altitude to hold. So we’re bringing you just a little lower, where you’ve got a good, safe space and visibility’s best. Is that okay, Miles? Over.’

  ‘It’s okay. Yes, we’re going down a bit. Can you send us a new pilot or something?’

  ‘I’m handing you over to a colleague now, Miles. She’s senior to me and she’s going to keep you safe and get you on the ground. Is that okay?’

  ‘Don’t go!’ said Miles. ‘Don’t leave us!’

  ‘I’m right here, but Sandra’s taking over communication now. She’s more familiar with your craft than I am.’

  ‘I’m right here, Miles,’ said a woman’s voice. It was deep and wonderfully sensible. ‘I’m with you, okay? I’m with you all the way. We’re going to get through this together. We’re clearing an emergency landing site for you in Bristol; the only problem at this stage is the airfields you’re passing are all short runways. Now, in normal circumstances, a short runway would be fine for your craft, but—’

  ‘You think we can land this?’ said Miles.

  ‘We’ll talk you through it. We’re with you every step of the way.’

  ‘We’re going too fast!’

  ‘No, no. We’re going to find a nice, long airstrip for you. We’re going to practise your approach, give you a couple of dry runs. It’s much easier than you think. ’

  ‘What about petrol? The pilot said we were flying on reserve.’

  ‘Flying on reserve. Are you saying your first tank’s dry?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘How do you know you’re on reserve?’

  ‘The pilot told me. He didn’t fill up. He said he normally would, but he didn’t want to miss some wind or other.’

  ‘And he said you’re flying on reserve?’

  ‘That’s what he said. What can we do?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Miles,’ said the voice. It was just a little firmer. ‘We’re going to try something a little bit different in the light of what you’ve just told me. Can you take a look at the reserve gauge? That’s three dials to the right of your altimeter. It’s a needle over a white strip about three centimetres long – have you got that?’

  ‘The needle’s at half,’ said Miles. ‘Is that good?’

  ‘The needle’s at half of the white area. So you’re how far from red?’

  ‘About one point five centimetres.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, it’s—’

  ‘We’re running out of fuel! Oh God!’

  ‘No, no, no. There’s enough fuel, just not enough to give us too much leeway. We’re going to have to make some more emergency arrangements. I’m going to leave you for a moment. I’m going to brief my colleagues and scramble a helicopter.’

  ‘Don’t go!’ cried Miles again.

  There was no answer. He glanced at Millie and saw that her face, like his own, was a mask of terror.

  ‘Are we going to die?’ she said.

  ‘I think so,’ said Miles. ‘We’d better tell Sanchez.’

  Chapter Two

  Sam saw the little plane through the window of his father’s car.

  He didn’t mention it to Ruskin, who was sitting next to him, because he seemed to be dozing. Oli was in front, deep in an instruction manual and definitely not to be disturbed, and his father had his nose close to the windscreen. He pulled the new phone out of his pocket and polished the display panel with his tie. His parents had told him that he was to hand it straight in to the headmaster when he got to school, and he was wondering if he was going to obey them. He had promised he would – it had been a condition of his keeping it. But what was the point of having such a thing if you couldn’t actually use it? Anyway, he was still getting used to the device, which seemed to have so many different functions. It was quite a large phone, and a sticker on the box had said, Special offer, line discontinued. He needed two hands to operate it, because it was as heavy as a brick. It had a stopwatch and a countdown facility. It had a calculator too, but that was quite tricky to operate and seemed to get even the simplest sums wrong. It had an alarm clock, and you could also check which year you were in.

  As he held it, it vibrated and emitted a piercing bleep.

  ‘Oh!’ he said. ‘I’ve had a text.’

  Ruskin opened his eyes. ‘Another one? That’s number seven.’

  ‘How do you get at it?’ said Sam. ‘Do you have the instruction book?’

  ‘You just press the . . . you press that little digit there, under the screen.’

  Sam pressed it and the words Address book appeared.

  ‘You’ve pressed the wrong one,’ said Ruskin. ‘Give it to me.’

  ‘I think that plane’s in some kind of trouble,’ said Sam, glancing out of the window again. ‘Unless it’s just practising stunts or something. It was low and now it’s high.’

  Ruskin pressed another button and found Games. ‘Did you know you had games on this thing?’ he said.

  ‘The man in the shop said there were games, but he showed me so quickly that I could never find them.’

  ‘Texts. I’ve got it. Inbox.’

  ‘So who was it from?’

  ‘I’m in your inbox. This is such a crafty gadget: it actually stores all the texts you receive, so you can go through them. Oh, it’s from Millie again.’

  ‘She’s probably at school by now. What does it say?’

  Ruskin blinked and held the phone higher. ‘I can’t see. There’s a reflection. Looks like, Why R U so crap?’

  ‘That was the last one,’ said Sam.

  ‘Oh. Right. Scrolling down . . . hang on a moment. Here we are.’ He tilted the screen again. Goodbye all. We R going . . .’

  ‘Going where?’

  ‘It doesn’t say. What a strange message. Maybe she was interrupted.’

  ‘Go down a bit, Jake. If you press the down arrow, you can see the rest of the words.’

  Ruskin pressed the arrow and the sentence continued.

  ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘There is more. Goodbye all. We R going to crash. We R all going to die. Millie.’

  ‘Crash where? How can you be about to crash and have the time to text someone?’

  ‘Maybe she’s joking. I’m not sure it’s something to joke about, though, Sam – you remember that crash we were in last term?’

  ‘Shall I phone her?’

  ‘It’s quite expensive, isn’t it? Making calls?’

  ‘Can I have it back a second? I’ve got five pounds credit, so I might as well use it.’

  ‘Don’t waste it, Sam. What if there’s an emergency?’

  ‘I’ll give her a very quick call – just check she’s okay. Oli? Look, sorry to disturb you, but you’re better at this than me. Can you give us a hand calling Millie?’

  Millie, Miles and Sanchez were now all pressed together in the cockpit and Miles was still relaying information from the headset. Timmy Fox was alive, but hardly breathing. The three terrified children watched as the fields rolled beneath them and the electricity pylons spread their cables inches under their wheels. Millie had pulled the craft upwards several times, but for some reason it kept wanting to descend. She had worked out that the pedals on the floor stabilised them somehow and had got used to pressing them carefully.

  They all knew the fuel supply was getting lower; the needle was even closer to the red. Millie slipped her phone back into her pocket and concentrated on the controls again. ‘There’s some kind of river ahead,’ she said. ‘What if I aim for that? What if we go straight into the water?’

  ‘No,’ said Sanchez. ‘We’re going way too fast.’

  ‘You’re doing okay,’
said the voice in Miles’s ear. ‘We’re finding you an airfield. Now, if you—’

  ‘We keep going down, Sandra,’ said Miles. ‘Over.’

  ‘I think you may have a headwind. It’s decreasing your speed and your trimmer needs adjusting.’

  ‘What’s a trimmer?’

  ‘It’s the adjustable flap at the back of the plane tail. It keeps you level, so the pilot has to compensate—’

  ‘I don’t know where the controls are! Can’t we just land? Please?’

  ‘Look for a wheel about the size of your hand. It’s between the two seats and it’s got a bumpy edge to it.’

  Miles repeated her words and Sanchez located it. He leant behind Millie, so she was free to move the joystick.

  ‘Got it.’

  ‘Roll the front downwards. Nice and slow.’

  Sanchez did so and the plane’s nose lifted. They felt a buffet of air and the plane tilted to the right and set off in a dramatic curve. They rose steadily, Millie doing her very best not to scream. She played the joystick back and depressed one of the pedals. The curve grew dangerously tight. In the next minute they completed three-hundred and sixty degrees and were heading for the water again. Millie pulled the nose back up and everyone sighed with relief.

  ‘Are we back on course?’ said Sanchez.

  ‘What is the course?’ said Millie. ‘Where are trying to get to? Are you sure we shouldn’t just ditch? We can all swim.’

  ‘Listen carefully,’ said the voice in Miles’s ear. ‘I’m going to teach you how to decrease your speed. You have to do it very gently, and you keep your eyes on the air speed indicator. That will tell you if there’s any danger of a stall. ’

  ‘Right,’ said Miles.

  ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about if—’

  There was a silence.

  ‘Hello?’ said Miles. He could hear a strange pulsing noise.

  ‘—in the first instance, can you do that?’

  ‘What?’

  There was silence again.

  ‘Tell me what to do, Miles!’ said Millie.

  ‘I’m not hearing you,’ said Miles. ‘Can you repeat what you just said? Over, please.’

  The pulsing turned into a crackling and, when it returned, the voice was furred over in static.

  ‘—indicator to the top of the control . . . intensify all exification . . . can you . . . hello?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you there, Miles? Come in, Miles – are you there? Over.’

  ‘I’m here. You’re breaking up!’

  ‘Is somebody using a cellphone? If someone—’

  Sure enough, he could hear the ringtone of Millie’s mobile, getting louder and louder. The voice of the controller disappeared in static and some of the needles seemed to be flicking abruptly backward and forward.

  Millie snatched out her phone and clicked it open. ‘Sam?’ she said. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘It’s Oli, actually. We’re in a car on the motorway. Where are you?’

  ‘Oh God, Oli, we’re in a bad situation. We’re in a plane. We’ve lost the pilot. We’re about to run out of fuel and we don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Millie!’ said Miles. ‘The phone’s screwing up the controls!’

  ‘What kind of plane?’ said Oli.

  Millie pressed the phone to her ear. ‘What?’ she cried. ‘What do you mean, “What kind of plane?”? A little plane, with wings, and a tail, with us inside it—’

  ‘Are you red and white, by any chance? One propeller, just going over a river?’

  ‘Yes! Shut up, Miles! Oli, I don’t know—’

  ‘You’re just to our right. We can see you. I’ll tell Sam to wave.’

  Millie looked down, trying frantically to remember her right from her left. The river ran next to a dual carriageway and, though the vehicles on it were small, they were getting larger every second. Again, Millie realised that, through no fault of her own, the plane was descending. She eased the joystick back and this time nothing seemed to be happening. There were more pylons ahead and a great spider’s web of cable. A power station was looming with red, winking lights.

  ‘We’re going down,’ she said.

  ‘Turn the wretched phone off!’ shouted Miles. ‘Turn the bloody phone off!’

  ‘No!’

  A little red car was speeding along in the outside lane, and Millie fixed her eyes onto it, easing the plane closer. It was hard to be sure, but something black appeared to be flapping out of the rear window and a tiny face was gazing up at her. There was a new sound now in the cockpit – and it chilled everyone to the very bone. A bell was ringing, one urgent chime at a time, as if sounding the ominous arrival of midnight. It didn’t stop at twelve, though; in fact, it showed no sign of stopping at all.

  ‘Fuel!’ shouted Miles. ‘Oh my God, look at the fuel gauge! Help us, Sandra! Where are you?’

  He put his finger over the needle and the three children saw that it was well into the red It twitched as they stared, and dropped further to the left.

  ‘We’re going to have to land,’ whispered Sanchez. ‘Swing her to the road, Millie.’

  ‘What do you mean, “Swing her to the road”? You think I can—’

  ‘You’re at the controls?’ said Oli’s voice, right in her ear. ‘Are you flying that thing, Millie?’

  ‘Yes! Of course I am!’

  ‘Okay, it’s easy – I had a radio-controlled version. You’ve got to take the rudder to the right, that means right foot down, nice and gentle. That’s the yaw control. Then you’re probably going to need some upward thrust if you’re losing speed.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Right foot down a little. Yes! You’re coming in! Beautiful.’

  ‘We’re going to land on the road,’ said Miles to the mouthpiece. All he heard was static and the chiming bell. More pylons came under them and all three closed their eyes, waiting for their undercarriage to be chopped away. It didn’t happen, but they were far lower than ever before. The engine was beginning to splutter. They came over the road and tried to follow it – but the plane had a mind of its own now, and a breeze seemed to lift and push it over the top of the red car, and they were heading straight for a concrete cooling tower.

  ‘Go right!’ shouted Oli.

  Sanchez said, ‘Look. There’s an emergency fuel switch. Shall I press it?’

  Millie and Miles had their eyes closed, however, and for the first time in his life, Miles was saying a prayer.

  Chapter Three

  The orphans were watching the plane too and most now had their hands over their mouths.

  They were in their school uniforms again, for the black-and-yellow tracksuits were in a laundry basket. Circus Ribblestrop was all in the past and Professor Worthington – who had rounded them up at the airport terminal – had insisted that everyone travel looking smart and ready for an exciting new term. It had been an emotional reunion, of course; Doonan had come up on the bus with Tomaz and Imagio. Caspar Vyner had not been allowed, unfortunately, for Lady Vyner’s hatred of the school had been rising as Monday morning came closer, and he was locked in his room. Henry was making his own way down, but they were still a large party.

  ‘I want you to stay together,’ Professor Worthington had called. ‘I want blazers buttoned and ties straight.’

  She’d led the gaggle of excited children through the crowds and out to the car park. Captain Routon had been waiting for them with drinks and sandwiches, so there were more hugs and handshakes. As they pulled onto the road, his ears were ringing from the third rendition of the school song. He inched forward carefully, for the bus was towing a long trailer carrying the boys’ luggage and equipment.

  As they came towards Bristol, he became aware that the traffic was slowing on both sides of the carriageway. He saw at once what the cause was: a light aircraft was in difficulty. In fact, it was on collision course, and he touched the brake instinctively, almost in sympathy. Sanjay and Anjoli both cried out and p
ointed, and within a moment everyone was crammed against the windows, following the course of the troubled little plane. The singing had died and there were five seconds of agonising silence.

  ‘Go up, man!’ whispered Sanjay.

  The plane was heading straight for a wall of concrete. Then, at the very last second, it seemed whoever was flying it woke up and pulled the craft upwards. It seemed to clip the top and then it rose like a rocket. It couldn’t stop rising, in fact. It hit vertical and then doubled back on itself in a remarkable loop-the-loop, clearing the top of the power station and banking steeply round as if it wanted to do the whole thing again. It swept behind the bus and the orphans rushed to the back seats to follow its course.

  Kenji, one of the youngest orphans, was crushed against the window and was astonished to see a little red car accelerating towards them. There was a boy leaning out of the window waving a black-and-gold blazer in the jet stream.

  That boy was Sam.

  ‘We’ve got more fuel!’ shouted Sanchez. ‘Well done, Millie.’

  ‘It was you,’ gasped Millie. Her face was white. ‘Sanchez, you saved us! It must be some kind of injection system. Oh God, Oli . . . Miles has been sick.’

  Miles was wet with sweat, clutching the arm of Millie’s seat. He had dropped the headset and was blinking in amazement.

  ‘Millie, you’re still there?’ said Oli.

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘Okay. The best thing you can do is come round again and land on the road. Sam’s dad is going to slow down a bit and try to hold the traffic back. Do you want to try an approach?’

  ‘I don’t know if I can.’

  ‘Oli,’ said Ruskin, staring upwards, ‘I might be wrong, but . . . I don’t think they’ve got both wheels anymore.’

  ‘What do you mean? Who hasn’t?’

  ‘The plane. Look at it!’

  Ruskin was kneeling on the back seat, peering through the window. He rubbed his glasses and grew more positive. One of the plane’s wheels had dropped off completely and the other was at a strange angle. The aircraft tilted right and the wheel he was watching sheered off and dropped like a bomb. It was suddenly bouncing along the road so fast that it overtook the car.