“Just here, please,” said Granny directing from the backseat of the police car. “Just opposite the Tower. Thank you so much.”
PC Fudge strained as he unloaded the scooter out of his boot. “Well, next time, please remember that mobility scooters are meant only for pavements, not main roads, and certainly not motorways.”
“Yes, Officer,” replied Granny with a smile.
“Well, good luck you two, with the whole… erm… clingfilm-bubble wrap alliance thing.”
And with that, PC Fudge sped off into the night, leaving Granny and Ben gazing at the magnificent thousand-year-old Tower of London on the opposite bank of the river. It was particularly spectacular at night, its four domed towers lit up, its reflection shimmering on the cold dark River Thames below.
The Tower was once a prison, with an illustrious list of former inmates (including the future Queen Elizabeth I, the adventurer Sir Walter Raleigh, the terrorist Guy Fawkes, the senior Nazi Rudolf Hess, Jedward*). Now, though, the Tower is a museum, and home to the priceless Crown Jewels, housed in their own special building, Jewel House.
The unlikely pair of gangstas stood at the riverbank. “Are you ready?” asked Granny, her mask completely steamed up from sitting in the back of a police car for over an hour.
“Yes,” said Ben, trembling with excitement. “I’m ready.”
Granny reached out to hold Ben’s hand, and then she counted, “Three, two, one” and on one they leapt into the dark waters below.
The water was freezing cold even with the wetsuits on, and for a few moments all Ben could see was black. It was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure.
When their heads bobbed out of the water, Ben took the snorkel out of his mouth for a moment.
“Are you OK, Granny?”
“I have never felt more alive.”
They doggy-paddled across the river. Ben had never been a great swimmer and lagged behind a little. Secretly he wished he had brought his armbands or at least a lilo.
A huge party cruiser, with music blaring and young people shouting, chugged down the river. Granny had swum ahead, and Ben had lost sight of her.
Oh no!
Had she been crushed by the cruiser?
Was Granny in a watery grave at the bottom of the Thames?
“Come on, slowcoach!” shouted Granny as the party boat passed and they caught sight of each other again. Ben sighed with relief, and continued doggy-paddling across the deep dark dirty water.
According to the diagram in Plumbing Weekly, the sewage pipe was situated just to the left of Traitors’ Gate. (This was an entrance to the Tower only accessible from the river, where many prisoners would be taken to be locked up for the rest of their lives or beheaded. Nowadays Traitors’ Gate had been bricked up, so the pipe was the only way into the Tower from the river.)
Then, with a rush of relief, Ben found the pipe. It was partly submerged under the water. It was dark and eerie, and he could hear the echoes of lapping waves reverberating inside it.
Suddenly Ben began to have second thoughts about the whole adventure. As much as he liked plumbing, he didn’t want to have to crawl up an ancient sewage pipe.
“Come on, Ben,” said Granny, as she bobbed up and down in the water. “We haven’t come this far to give up now.”
Well, thought Ben. If a little old lady can do it, then I certainly can.
Ben took a deep breath and propelled himself into the pipe. Granny followed close behind.
It was blacker than black in there, and after he travelled a few metres he could feel something crawling across his head. He heard an eek-eek noise, and could sense something scratching his scalp.
It felt like claws.
He put his hand on his head.
He touched something big and furry. Then he realised the awful truth.
IT WAS A RAT!
A giant rat was clinging to the top of his head.
screamed Ben.
* I lied about that last one, but I would like to see Jedward locked up for ever in the Tower of London for crimes against music.