Ribblestrop Forever! Read Online Free PDF Page A

you’ve got to get lower and slower. You’ve got to come in as low as you can, all right? You need to come up behind us and Captain
Routon’s going to try to match your speed and carry you. We’re going to lash you on as well, so you don’t fall off. Everything’s ready.’
    ‘This isn’t going to work, Oli!’
    ‘Yes, it is. The maths is perfect. How much fuel have you got?’
    ‘There’s no way of telling. The alarm’s getting louder all the time and we’re juddering about. Oli, there are helicopters too! I can see fire engines!’
    Miles was pressed against the cockpit glass and had managed to turn to his right. The helicopter had come from nowhere and was keeping pace with them. He could see the pilot
yelling orders and instructions, but his own headset was still on the floor, a shrill voice gabbling through static. He looked down and the road was even closer – the blue lights had
multiplied and he could see a column of ambulances off to the left. The traffic was being held back – a great, open swathe of tarmac appeared, though a police Land Rover was streaking ahead
into it. Miles could hear its siren wailing and he wondered, for the hundredth time, why the police used sirens, when all they did was paralyse everyone with terror. He looked at Sanchez, who was
holding the phone to Millie’s ear, his jaw rigid with tension.
    ‘I can see you, Oli,’ said Millie. ‘I’ve got the bus!’
    ‘Slow down!’ cried Oli.
    ‘I’m trying. I just don’t know how.’
    She pulled the joystick back a fraction and felt the plane swerve to the right. She pressed the left pedal and they were back on course, the road skimming beneath them and the bus and its
trailer coming ever closer. If they had wheels, she thought, a landing might be possible. Then again, she had no idea where the brakes were – should she simply run into the bus and use it as
a buffer? She didn’t dare, because she remembered Oli’s words about fireballs.
    ‘You can do this,’ said Sanchez, quietly. ‘I know you can.’
    ‘No I can’t,’ she said.
    ‘Just a bit lower,’ said Miles. ‘They’ve got a flag, look. They’re showing the height with a flag!’
    Sure enough, Kenji and Israel had leapt back onto the trailer and were sitting at its far end with one of the black-and-gold circus flags. They unfurled it in the gale and anchored it between
two packing cases, hoping it might give Millie a clearer target. There were two police Land Rovers now, both keeping pace with the plane, just behind it, lights flashing madly. The rest of the
children and their teachers were clustered on the back seat of the bus, watching anxiously.
    ‘You can do it,’ said Sanchez again.
    ‘If I can’t,’ said Millie, ‘you won’t blame me, will you?’
    ‘I love you,’ said Miles. ‘I want you to know that. Both of you. If we don’t make it, I want you to know—’
    ‘Shut up!’ shouted Millie. ‘Tell me what to do! Higher or lower? My hands are shaking!’
    ‘You’re dead on,’ said Sanchez.
    ‘Maybe down just a tiny bit,’ said Miles.
    ‘Down,’ said Oli in Millie’s ear. ‘Just a tiny bit down and . . . okay, okay!’
    Oli gestured at Sam, and Sam waved at Captain Routon, who sat rigid at the wheel of the bus.
    ‘Faster, Dad!’ shouted Sam, and Mr Tack increased his speed as Captain Routon did the same. They could hear nothing any more, except for the screaming engine of the aeroplane, which
even obliterated the police sirens. It was so low its undercarriage touched the tarmac and there was a burst of sparks. If Millie felt the bump, she remained in control and lifted her craft just a
fraction. At eighty miles an hour, decreasing due to wind resistance down to seventy-six, she came over the little car and then the trailer.
    The orphans lowered the flag and threw themselves down amongst the luggage. Captain Routon held the wheel grimly. He pressed the throttle, pushing his speed up to seventy, seventy-two. The road