Ribblestrop Forever!
Read Ribblestrop Forever! Online
Authors: Andy Mulligan
Also by Andy Mulligan
RIBBLESTROP
RETURN TO RIBBLESTROP
TRASH
First published in Great Britain in 2012 by Simon and Schuster UK Ltd, a CBS company.
Text copyright © 2012 Andy Mulligan
Cover and title page artwork © 2012 Serge Seidlitz
This book is copyright under the Berne Convention.
No reproduction without permission.
All rights reserved.
The right of Andy Mulligan to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Design and Patents Act,
1988.
Simon & Schuster UK Ltd
1st Floor, 222 Gray’s Inn Road
London WC1X 8HB
Simon & Schuster Australia, Sydney
Simon & Schuster India, New Delhi
A CIP catalogue copy for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-0-85707-800-1
Ebook ISBN: 978-0-85707-801-8
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual people, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Typeset by Hewer Text UK Ltd, Edinburgh
Printed and bound in Great Britain by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY
For Michael and Anita
Chapter One
It was the end of the Easter holidays.
Millie, Miles and Sanchez had flown first class from Bogotá, home to Sanchez’s father. They hadn’t intended to visit him but, in the end, the thought of South American fiestas
and fireworks had proved too seductive and they’d rushed out for a few days of excitement. They’d returned to Heathrow airport, however, to find their onward travel plans to Ribblestrop
– all arranged on brand new cellphones – in tatters. They had been hoping to share a taxi with their friends, Sam Tack, Ruskin and Oli. Mr Tack had booked it, to drive them right to the
school gates, but he’d got the dates mixed up, and after a whole series of confusions he’d been forced to drive the children himself. There was room for just four in his tiny hatchback,
so Sanchez, Millie and Miles were in a fix.
They were desperate to be at school for six o’clock as the orphans had promised a trapeze display that very evening, in the dining hall. The orphans had arrived that morning as well, after
a sell-out run of Circus Ribblestrop in New York. Captain Routon had hired a coach and driven up specially to collect them. Sanchez phoned his father, explained the muddle, and a light aircraft was
chartered within the hour. The three children found themselves in a limousine on their way to a private aerodrome near Reading, and soon they were shaking the firm hand of veteran pilot, Timmy
Fox.
‘Welcome!’ said Timmy. ‘This is what we call “scrambling a flight”, eh? In a hurry, are we?’
‘We don’t want to hang around,’ said Millie.
They walked towards a pretty little aeroplane, alone on the tarmac.
‘It’s no distance at all,’ said the pilot. He raised his eyebrows and grinned. ‘Flown in one of these before, have you? She’s sweet as a songbird –
Maisie
, I call her.’
‘Never,’ said Miles.
‘Single engine, but still packs a punch. We won’t go over fifteen hundred feet, so you’ll see the landscape. I bought her six months ago and she handles like a baby. Quick and
bright with a mind of her own. We can actually land at your school, can we? I’ve not filed the old flight plan yet, but I think this Mr Sanchez character cut a bit of red tape for me, eh? We
can improvise a bit, I imagine?’
‘There’s a long driveway,’ said Millie. ‘And a big lawn.’
‘We’ll be fine. She can land on a sixpence, this one.’ Timmy led them to the steps. ‘Once we’re airborne,’ he said, ‘I’ll radio Bristol and tell
’em what we’re doing. They’re pretty flexible with the Foxter.’ He lit a cigar and climbed aboard. ‘Timmy’s been around a bit. Now, anyone get
sea-sick?’
‘No,’ said Miles.
The pilot pushed back his cap. ‘Not like flying in a jet, you know! You’re going to feel every bump. I used to do stunt work in the movies. Bit of action over Iraq too – came
in low to Afghanistan a couple of times . . . but we don’t talk about that. No looping-the-loop today, eh? Not unless you twist my arm. Now, buckle yourselves in, boys – I want to catch
this westerly breeze.’
A moment later they were taxiing and, the next second it seemed, rising in a great vibrating, roaring rush. The world was suddenly nothing but sunshine and blue sky, with a patchwork of fields
revolving below. Timmy Fox wore a headset, and he turned and winked at his passengers.
‘I went up without clearance,’ he shouted, putting up his thumb. ‘I’ll get a bit of a talking to, but they know the Fox. They know Foxy bends the rules! Smooth as a bird,
eh? Whoops!’
A patch of turbulence caused a sudden roll, but the pilot laughed as he righted his craft.
‘She’s a bag of tricks is
Maisie
!’ he cried. ‘Oh my, this is flying!’
It was at this point that Miles unbuckled his seatbelt, and stood up. There wasn’t much room in the narrow cabin, but he leant over Millie and peered through her porthole. The plane banked
to the left, and the city of Reading appeared and slipped by.
‘You know, I’d stay in your seat if I were you!’ shouted Timmy.
‘Why?’ said Miles.
He hauled himself into the cockpit and crouched beside the pilot. Cigar smoke filled the little cabin, which was a mass of dials and switches.
‘Is it difficult?’ said Miles. ‘It looks easy to me.’
Timmy grinned and coughed. ‘They don’t fly themselves, chummy, that’s for sure. You take a jumbo – that’s pretty much flown by computers, these days. Your air-jet
pilots spend most of the time doing crosswords. It’s these little chaps that take control and . . . well, I’ll say it myself, sonny: skill – nerve!’ He puffed at his cigar.
‘Maybe judgement’s a better word. You have to feel the wind, hear the way she’s handling. It’s not child’s play, that’s for sure.’
Miles was nodding. ‘What’s that knob there?’ he shouted.
‘I can see you’re interested. I like that in a boy! Now, that’s my air-speed indicator, okay? That stops us stalling.’
Miles pointed to a dial. ‘What’s that one telling you?’
‘Ah, don’t look at that. That’s the fuel in the primary tank. It’s as good as empty, but the reserve’s full, and I reckon a forty-five minute journey’s okay
on reserve. We won’t need more than . . . oooh, thirty litres? We should have filled up beforehand, really, but the wind was perfect. I didn’t want to miss it! Who are your friends, by
the way? The dark boy seems pretty important – some kind of prince, is he?’
Miles smiled. ‘No. He’s a mafia gangster’s son. Drug-running mainly, so he has to be careful of kidnap.’
‘Right. I thought as much.’
‘The girl’s called Millie. She’s been expelled from four schools, which is one less than me. We’ve been on holiday together.’
‘Ah.’
‘You’ve probably heard of Ribblestrop.’
‘Have I?’
‘It’s the place where the chaplain got eaten by a crocodile, and before that the deputy head was killed by a train. The headmaster’s great, but he doesn’t really have
much of a grip. Oh, and the local policeman hates us too – but that’s all right now because he got sacked for attempted murder. I think most of our problems are solved. Do you want one
of these?’
‘One of what? What are you offering the Fox?’
‘Colombian gobstoppers. They’re mixed with coca-leaves – they give you quite a buzz.’
Timmy Fox stubbed his cigar out and looked at the bag in Miles’s hand. It was an innocent-looking brown colour, crumpled from its time in the boy’s blazer pocket. Miles held it under
pilot’s nose.
‘Looks pretty tasty, I must say,’ he said. ‘That’s one thing about old Foxy – he’s got a sweet tooth and tries anything once.’
‘These are beautiful. They last for two hours each.’
The pilot grinned and eased his craft into a gentle climb. He had felt the vibrations of turbulence again and he flicked some switches in the roof. ‘I shouldn’t really, sonny. My
dentist says I’m a little bit too partial to – whoops!’
The plane juddered into an air pocket and Miles was butted forward.
‘You see?’ said Timmy. ‘It’s a roller-coaster, sometimes – she’s as game as a bird, is this little girl. I’ll just take the one, thank you. What’s
your name?’
‘Miles.’
‘Thanks, Miles. Here’s to you.’
He took the offered sweet between forefinger and thumb and rolled it. It was smaller than a ping-pong ball and up close it had a peppering of purple spots. Putting it into his mouth, he tested
it with his teeth.
