42

Bruises on the Bottom

“I am thinking, Squadron Leader,” said Grandpa as they stood on the roof of Twilight Towers. “I don’t want to leave a single man…”

“Or lady!” corrected Mrs Trifle.

“…or lady behind. We need backup. Let me call on the army and navy.” With that, Grandpa scuttled over to the edge of the roof and called out into the darkness below, “Major? Rear Admiral?”

“Yes, sir?” came the voice of the Major from on the ground.

“I need reinforcements!”

Without hesitation, the two old war heroes made their way back across the lawn and up the rope of knickers. They were followed one by one by a dozen or so of the other escapees.

“Would you mind hurrying up, please?” complained Mrs Trifle. “I do need to use the loo!”

The old folk joined together to form two human chains. At the end of each chain someone held on tight to one of Mrs Trifle’s arms.

“Teamwork!” announced Grandpa. “That’s what will win us this war. Teamwork! We all need to work together.”

“Hear hear!” agreed the Major.

Next, Grandpa called out his command. “One, two, three, HEAVE!”

This time Mrs Trifle shot up through the hatch. In an instant everyone flew backwards to end up piled on top of each other in a heap.

OOF!

“Teamwork, sir!” remarked Jack with a smile, as he climbed out from the bottom of the pile.

“Bravo, one and all!” said Grandpa. “Right, now everyone back down the rope quick smart.”

One by one the other old folk made their way back down. Mrs Trifle was the last in line.

Surveying her for a second, Jack whispered, “I am not sure the rope will take her weight, sir.”

“I checked, and rest assured they are all top quality British-made knickers, Squadron Leader. I am sure everything will be fine if Trifle just listens to my instructions and takes it slow…”

Mrs Trifle was not one to listen to instructions from anybody. Without waiting, she grabbed hold of the knickerage and launched herself off the roof with far too much gusto. Just as Jack had predicted, the rope could not take her weight. As she slid down it at alarming speed…

“AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!”

…a pair of the silky knickers RIPPED.

And Mrs Trifle landed on the ground.

Thud!

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” she screamed.

Fortunately, she did not fall too far and was not badly injured. Just a few bruises on her bottom. The rope of knickers followed her down and landed on top of her head.

“Now I am covered in knickers!” she complained loudly. “I can never show my face in polite society again!”

“Shush!” shushed Jack.

But it was too late. The nurses stationed atop the observation towers could not help but hear the very loud Mrs Trifle. Immediately the searchlights circled. One picked out Mrs Trifle, another the gaggle of elderly escapees hurrying across the lawn.

“Quick! Run for the willow tree!” Jack called down from the roof. “It’s your only way out!” Helping each other as much as they could, the old folk surged towards the wall.

Suddenly a blinding blaze of lights lit up the building and all its grounds.

DING DONG DING DONG

DING DONG DING DONG!

The bell in the tower began to ring. The alarm had been raised.

One of the searchlights caught Grandpa and Jack on the roof. For a moment they were framed in the glare of a light. With the rope of knickers broken, there was no way down.

They

were

trapped.