Grandpa’s Great Escape. David Walliams

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      With the sleeve of his dressing gown, Dad wiped his eyes. It was clear he had been crying. Jack’s father was an accountant. He spent all day doing long boring sums and didn’t find it easy to express his feelings. Instead he would bottle things up. However, Jack knew his dad loved his father very much, even though he was nothing like him. It was as if the love of adventure had skipped a generation. The old man’s head was in the clouds, while his son’s head was buried in books of figures.

“Are you all right, Dad?” asked the boy, breathless from pedalling.

      As his father wound down the window to talk to them, the handle came off in his hand. The car was ancient and rusty, and bits often fell off.

      “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Dad lied, as he held the handle aloft, not quite sure what to do with it.

      “So no sign of the old man?” asked Mum, already knowing the answer.

      “No,” replied Dad softly. He turned away from them and stared straight ahead to hide how upset he was. “I’ve looked all over town for him for the past few hours.”

      “Did you look in the park?” asked Jack.

      “Yes,” replied Dad.

      “The railway station?”

      “Yes. It was all locked up for the night, but there was no one outside.”

      Suddenly Jack had an inspired thought, and couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “The War Memorial?!”

The man returned his gaze to his son, and shook his head sorrowfully. “That’s the first place I looked.”

      “Well, that’s it then!” announced Mum. “Let’s call the police. They can stay out all night looking for him. I am going back to bed! We have a big promotion on our Wensleydale at the cheese counter tomorrow and I need to look my best!”

      “No!” said Jack. From secretly listening to his parents’ conversations about Grandpa at night, the boy knew this could spell disaster. Once the police were involved, questions would be asked. Forms would have to be filled in. The old man would become ‘a problem’. Doctors would poke and prod him, and because of his condition no doubt Grandpa would be sent straight to an old folk’s home. To someone like his grandfather who had lived a life of freedom and adventure, it would be like a prison sentence. They simply had to find him.

      “Up, up and away…” muttered the boy.

      “What, son?” replied Dad, mystified.

      “That’s what Grandpa always says to me when we are playing pilots together in his flat. As we take off he always says ‘Up, up and away.’’’

“So…?” demanded Mum. She rolled her eyes and sighed at the same time. Double whammy.

      “So…” replied Jack. “I bet that’s where Grandpa is. Up high somewhere.”

      The boy thought long and hard about which was the tallest building in town. After a moment it dawned on him. “Follow me!” Jack exclaimed, before speeding off down the road, pedalling his trike furiously.

5

      Loon in the Moon

      The highest point in the town was in fact the church spire. It was something of a local landmark and could be seen for miles around. Jack had a hunch that Grandpa might have tried to climb up there. When he had gone missing before, he had often been found somewhere high up, atop a climbing frame, up a ladder, even once on the roof of a double-decker bus. It was as if he needed to touch the sky as he had done all those years ago as an RAF pilot.

      As the church came into view, there was the distinct silhouette of a man sitting on top of the spire. He was perfectly framed by the glow of a low silvery moon.

      From the moment Jack saw his grandfather he knew exactly what the old man thought he was doing. Flying his Spitfire.

      At the foot of the tall church was the short vicar.

Reverend Hogg had a rather obvious comb-over. What hair he had left was dyed so black it was blue. His eyes were as small as penny coins, hidden behind black-framed glasses. The vicar’s glasses rested on his upturned piggy nose, which he was forever sticking in the air so he could look down it at people.

      Jack’s family did not go to church regularly, so the boy had only seen the vicar out and about in the local town. But once he had seen Reverend Hogg carrying a crate of expensive-looking champagne from the off-licence. On another occasion, Jack could have sworn he saw the man cruising past in a brand-new Lotus Esprit sports car, puffing on a big fat cigar. Weren’t vicars meant to help the poor, Jack couldn’t help wondering, not lavish money on themselves?

This being the middle of the night, Reverend Hogg was still wearing his bedclothes. The vicar’s pyjamas and dressing gown were made of the finest silk, and he was sporting a pair of red velvet slippers which were monogrammed ‘C of E’ (for Church of England). Around his wrist was curled a chunky diamond-encrusted gold watch. He was clearly a man who had a taste for the high life.

      “GET DOWN FROM THERE!” barked Reverend Hogg at the old man, just as the family ran through the graveyard.

      “IT’S MY GRANDPA!” shouted Jack, once again breathless from having pedalled so hard on his trike. Reverend Hogg reeked of cigars, a smell the boy could not stomach and instantly he felt a little queasy.

      “Well, what on earth is he doing on MY church roof?!”

      “I am sorry, vicar!” yelled Dad. “It’s my father. He gets confused…”

      “Then he should be under lock and key! He has already dislodged some of the lead off MY roof!”

      From behind the gravestones, a gang of tough-looking men appeared. They all had shaved heads, tattoos and teeth missing. From their overalls and spades, Jack assumed they must be gravediggers. Though it seemed strange that they were digging graves in the dead of night.

      One of the gravediggers handed the vicar a torch, which he shone straight into the old man’s eyes.

“COME DOWN THIS INSTANT!”

      Yet still Grandpa did not respond. As usual he was in a world of his own.

      “Rudder steady. Holding on course, over?” he said instead. It was clear he did indeed believe he was high up in the skies piloting his beloved Spitfire.

      “Wing Commander to base, over?” he went on.

      “What on earth is СКАЧАТЬ