Ribblestrop Forever! Read Online Free PDF

ahead was clear, thank goodness – the police must have closed all junctions – in fact, he could see a road-block in the distance. He checked his mirrors and saw that the
aeroplane’s propeller was sweeping up behind him. It was on a collision course, and he braced himself, fighting his instincts to brake or swerve. There were blue flashing lights everywhere it
seemed, but only the sound of howling engines and he clamped his jaws so tight his fillings were hurting.
    He felt the crunch of contact like a blow.
    For a moment he lost control, the back wheels simply sliding off to the right, and he heard the rending of metal as if the bus roof were being ripped apart. He steered into the skid and felt the
wheels come true again. Then his bus was accelerating, as if some awful force were driving him forward – as if he was about to take off. The plane was down, the remains of its undercarriage
snagged on the cable: the combined speed was terrifying. He touched the brake again and felt his tyres bursting. Left and right, he saw them in his mirrors – great chunks of rubber sheered
off and flew into the distance. He could see luggage bouncing away as the trailer fish-tailed amongst fountains of sparks. Any moment, he thought, the bus would somersault over its nose.
    He saw that the orphans were streaming out onto the roof again, grabbing at the plane. For one precious second he allowed himself to close his eyes. When he opened them, he saw fire engines
ahead – a whole line of them up on a road-bridge. Despite his ruined wheels, the bus showed no sign of slowing, and there were emergency vehicles to the left and right, reversing quickly out
of his path. The bus sped through them and Captain Routon tried the brakes again, knowing that if he pressed too hard he’d spin everyone into oblivion. There was a stink of burning, and he
glimpsed in his mirror the shape of Doonan, on his knees in the middle of the aisle, praying hard.
    Touchdown, from Millie’s point of view, was yet another miracle in a life crammed with so many.
    Miles and Sanchez were cowering beside her and, as the bus beneath them accelerated to match their speed, there was a curious slow-motion about it all. They could see the cable stretched across
the roof. They could see Professor Worthington, Asilah and Anjoli gesturing with their hands, hair flapping wildly over their faces. Millie let the plane drift in and came lower still. She felt the
cable catch the undercarriage and felt the nose dip suddenly. She eased the joystick back, compensating, and the craft sunk with a crunch that made the bus skid and sway beneath her.
    She had no idea how to turn things off, but it was Sanchez who did the obvious. He closed the emergency fuel line and, after an agonising ten seconds, they saw the propellers slowing down. That
was when a boy in a black-and-gold blazer appeared on the end of a rope, clambering onto the right-hand wing.
    It was Israel, fighting the jet stream, and he had a bundle in his arms. There was activity on both sides, and Millie recognised the long hair of Anjoli. It looked as if another cable was being
slung right over the top of them, as half a dozen orphans battled with the wind. It was Miles who had the sense to go back to the door and in a moment he’d hauled it open and the cabin was
blasted with air.
    Nobody could speak. The bus was skidding and slipping, and the noise was unbearable. Podma was first into the plane, Israel behind him. It was the rope ladder they carried, and it was soon
unfurled and drawn tight. Miles was out, and there were hands everywhere, steadying him as he descended. Millie was next, and then Sanchez was heaving at the half-conscious pilot. The bus swerved
again and took out a road sign. The orphans grabbed wrists, hair, collars and knees, and somehow, everyone was inside the bus.
    There was wild cheering and a scrum of embraces. This might have continued had not Doonan’s voice soared out over the