Gangsta Granny PDF by David Walliams

David Walliams Gangsta Granny 2011, EN, Kids A story of prejudice and acceptance, funny lists and silly words, this new book has all the hallmarks of David’s previous bestsellers. Our hero Ben is bored beyond belief after he is made to stay at his grandma’s house. She’s the boringest grandma ev...

David Walliams Gangsta Granny 2011, EN, Kids A story of prejudice and acceptance, funny lists and silly words, this new book has all the hallmarks of David’s previous bestsellers. Our hero Ben is bored beyond belief after he is made to stay at his grandma’s house. She’s the boringest grandma ever: all she wants to do is to play Scrabble, and eat cabbage soup. But there are two things Ben doesn’t know about his grandma. 1) She was once an international jewel thief. 2) All her life, she has been plotting to steal the crown jewels, and now she needs Ben’s help!  Table of contents 1: Cabbagy Water 2: A Duck Quacking 3: Plumbing Weekly 4: Mystery and Wonder 5: A Little Broken 6: Cold Wet Egg 7: Bags of Manure 8: A Small Wig in a Jar 9: The Black Cat 10: Everything 11: Cheesy Beans and Sausage 12: The Love Bomb 13: A Lifetime of Crime 14: Nosy Neighbour 15: Reckless and Thrilling 16: ‘N’ ‘O’ Spells ‘NO’ 17: Planning the Heist 18: Visiting Hours 19: A Small Explosive Device 20: Boom Boom Boom 21: A Tap-Shoe 22: Lycra Lynch Mob 23: Caught by the Fuzz 24: Dark Waters 25: Haunted by Ghosts 26: A Figure in the Dark 27: An Audience with the Queen 28: Hung, Drawn and Quartered 29: Armed Police 30: A Packet of Sugar 31: Golden Light 32: A Family Sandwich 33: Silence 34: Zimmer Frame Postscript ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 1 Cabbagy Water “B ut Granny is soooo boring,” said Ben. It was a cold Friday evening in November, and as usual he was slumped in the back of his mum and dad’s car. Once again he was on his way to stay the night at his dreaded granny’s house. “All old people are.” “Don’t talk about your granny like that,” said Dad weakly, his fat stomach pushed up against the steering wheel of the family’s little brown car. “I hate spending time with her,” protested Ben. “Her TV doesn’t work, all she wants to do is play Scrabble and she stinks of cabbage!” “In fairness to the boy she does stink of cabbage,” agreed Mum, as she applied some last minute lip-liner. “You’re not helping, wife,” muttered Dad. “At worst my mother has a very slight odour of boiled vegetables.” “Can’t I come with you?” pleaded Ben. “I love ball-whatsit dancing,” he lied. “It’s called ballroom dancing,” corrected Dad. “And you don’t love it. You said, and I quote, ‘I would rather eat my own bogeys than watch that rubbish.’” Now, Ben’s mum and dad loved ballroom dancing. Sometimes Ben thought they loved it more than they loved him. There was a TV show on Saturday evenings that Mum and Dad never missed called Strictly Stars Dancing, where celebrities would be paired with professional ballroom dancers. In fact, if there was a fire in their house, and Mum could only save either a sparkly gold tap-shoe once worn by Flavio Flavioli (the shiny, tanned dancer and heartbreaker from Italy who appeared on every series of the hit TV show) or her only child, Ben thought she would probably go for the shoe. Tonight, his mum and dad were going to an arena to see Strictly Stars Dancing live on stage. “I don’t know why you don’t give up on this pipe dream of becoming a plumber, Ben, and think about dancing professionally,” said Mum, her lip-liner scrawling across her cheek as the car bounced over a particularly bumpy speed bump. Mum had a habit of applying make-up in the car, which meant she often arrived somewhere looking like a clown. “Maybe, just maybe, you could end up on Strictly!” added Mum excitedly. “Because prancing around like that is stupid,” said Ben. Mum whimpered a little, and reached for a tissue. “You’re upsetting your mother. Now just be quiet please, Ben, there’s a good boy,” replied Dad firmly, as he turned up the volume on the stereo. Inevitably, a Strictly CD was playing. 50 Golden Greats from the Hit TV Show was emblazoned on the cover. Ben hated the CD, not least because he had heard it a million times. In fact, he had heard it so many times it was like torture. Ben’s mum worked at the local nail salon, ‘Gail’s Nails’. Because there weren’t many customers, Mum and the other lady who worked there (unsurprisingly called Gail) spent most days doing each other’s nails. Buffing, cleaning, trimming, moisturising, coating, sealing, polishing, filing, lacquering, extending and painting. They were doing things to each other’s nails all day long (unless Flavio Flavioli was on daytime TV). That meant Mum would always come home with extremely long multi-coloured plastic extensions on the end of her fingers. Ben’s dad, meanwhile, worked as a security guard at the local supermarket. The highlight of his twenty-year career thus far was stopping an old man who had concealed two tubs of margarine down his trousers. Although Dad was now too fat to run after any robbers, he could certainly block their escape. Dad met Mum when he wrongly accused her of shoplifting a bag of crisps, and within a year they were married. The car swung around the corner into Grey Close, where Granny’s bungalow squatted. It was one of a whole row of sad little homes, mainly inhabited by old people. The car came to a halt, and Ben slowly turned his head towards the bungalow. Looking expectantly out of the living-room window was Granny. Waiting. Waiting. She was always waiting by the window for him to arrive. How long has she been there? thought Ben. Since last week? Ben was her only grandchild and, as far as he knew, no one else ever came to visit. Granny waved and gave Ben a little smile, which his grumpy face just about permitted him to reluctantly return. “Right, one of us will pick you up tomorrow morning at around eleven,” said Dad, keeping the engine running. “Can’t you make it ten?” “Ben!” growled Dad. He released the child lock and Ben grudgingly pushed the door open and stepped out. Ben didn’t need the child lock, of course: he was eleven years old and hardly likely to open the door while the car was driving. He suspected his dad only used it to stop him from diving out of the car when they were on their way to Granny’s house. Clunk went the door behind him, as the engine revved up again. Before he could ring the bell, Granny opened the door. A huge gust of cabbage blasted in Ben’s face. It was like a great big slap of smell. She was very much your textbook granny:  “Are Mummy and Daddy not coming in?” she asked, a little crestfallen. This was one of the things Ben couldn’t stand about her: she was always talking to him like he was a baby. Broom-broom-brroooooooooommm. Together Granny and Ben watched the little brown car race off, leaping over the speed bumps. Mum and Dad didn’t like spending time with her any more than Ben did. It was just a convenient place to dump him on a Friday night. “No, erm…Sorry, Granny…” spluttered Ben. “Oh, well, come in then,” she muttered. “Now, I’ve set up the Scrabble board and for your tea, I’ve got your favourite…cabbage soup!”  Ben’s face dropped even further. Noooooooo ooooooooo! he thought. ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 2 A Duck Quacking B efore long, granny and grandson were sitting opposite each other in deadly silence at the dining-room table. Just like every single Friday night. When his parents weren’t watching Strictly on TV, they were eating curry or going to the movies. Friday night was their ‘date night’, and ever since Ben could remember, they had been dropping him off with his granny when they went out. If they weren’t going to see Strictly Stars Dancing Live On Stage Live!, they would normally go to the Taj Mahal (the curry house on the high street, not the ancient white marble monument in India) and eat their own bodyweight in poppadums. All that could be heard in the bungalow was the ticking of the carriage clock on the mantelpiece, the clinking of metal spoons against porcelain bowls, and the occasional high-pitched whistle of Granny’s faulty hearing aid. It was a device whose purpose seemed to be not so much to aid Granny’s deafness, but to cause deafness in others. It was one of the main things that Ben hated about his granny. The others were: 1) Granny would always spit in the used tissue she kept up the sleeve of her cardigan and wipe her grandson’s face with it. 2) Her TV had been broken since 1992. And now it was covered in dust so thick it was like fur. 3) Her house was stuffed full of books and she was always trying to get Ben to read them even though he loathed reading. 4) Granny insisted you wore a heavy winter coat all year round even on a boiling hot day, otherwise you wouldn’t ‘feel the benefit’.  5) She reeked of cabbage. (Anyone with a cabbage allergy would not be able to come within ten miles of her.) 6) Granny’s idea of an exciting day out was feeding mouldy crusts of bread to some ducks in a pond. 7) She constantly blew off without even acknowledging it. 8) Those blow-offs didn’t just smell of cabbage. They smelled of rotten cabbage. 9) Granny made you go to bed so early it seemed hardly worthwhile getting up in the first place. 10) She knitted her only grandson jumpers for Christmas with puppies or kittens on them, which he was forced to wear during the whole festive period by his parents. “How’s your soup?” enquired the old lady. Ben had been stirring the pale green liquid around the chipped bowl for the last ten minutes hoping it would somehow disappear. It wouldn’t. And now it was getting cold. Cold bits of cabbage, floating around in some cold cabbagy water. “Erm, it’s delicious, thank you,” replied Ben. “Good.” Tick tock tick tock. “Good,” said the old lady again. Clink. Clink. “Good.” Granny seemed to find it as hard to speak to Ben as he did to her. Clink clank. Whistle. “How’s school?” she asked. “Boring,” muttered Ben. Adults always ask kids how they are doing at school. The one subject kids absolutely hate talking about. You don’t even want to talk about school when you are at school. “Oh,” said Granny. Tick tock clink clank whistle tick tock. “Well, I must check on the oven,” said Granny after the long pause stretched out into an even longer pause. “I’ve got your favourite cabbage pie on the go.”  She rose slowly from her seat and made her way to the kitchen. As she took each step a little bubble of wind puffed out of her saggy bottom. It sounded like a duck quacking. Either she didn’t realise or was extremely good at pretending she didn’t realise. Ben watched her go, and then crept silently across the room. This was difficult because of the piles of books everywhere. Ben’s granny LOVED books, and always seemed to have her nose in one. They were stacked on shelves, lined up on windowsills, piled up in corners. Crime novels were her favourite. Books about gangstas, bank robbers, the mafia and the like. Ben wasn’t sure what the difference between a gangsta and a gangster was, but a gangsta seemed much worse. Although Ben hated reading, he loved looking at all the covers of Granny’s books. They had fast cars and guns and glamorous ladies luridly painted on them, and Ben found it hard to believe this boring old Granny of his liked reading stories that looked so thrilling. Why is she obsessed with gangstas? thought Ben. Gangstas don’t live in bungalows. Gangstas don’t play Scrabble. Gangstas probably don’t smell of cabbage. Ben was a very slow reader, and the teachers at school made him feel stupid because he couldn’t keep up. The headmistress had even put him down a year in the hope that he would catch up on his reading. As a result, all his friends were in a different class, and he felt nearly as lonely at school as he did at home, with his parents who only cared about ballroom dancing. Eventually, after a hairy moment where he nearly knocked over a stack of real-life crime books, Ben made it to the pot plant in the corner. He quickly tipped the remainder of his soup into it. The plant looked as if it was already dying, and if it wasn’t dead yet, Granny’s cold cabbage soup was sure to kill it off. Suddenly, Ben heard Granny’s bum squeaking again as she made her way into the dining room, so he sped back to the table. He sat there trying to look as innocent as possible, with his empty bowl in front of him and his spoon in hand. “I’ve finished my soup, thank you, Granny. It was yummy!” “That’s good,” said the old lady as she trundled back to the table carrying a saucepan on a tray. “I’ve got plenty more here for you, boy!” Smiling, she served him up another bowl. Ben gulped in terror. ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 3 Plumbing Weekly “I can’t find Plumbing Weekly, Raj,” said Ben. It was the next Friday, and the boy had been scouring the magazine shelves of the local newsagent’s shop. He couldn’t find his favourite publication anywhere. The magazine was aimed at professional plumbers, and Ben was beguiled by pages and pages of pipes, taps, cisterns, ballcocks, boilers, tanks and drains. Plumbing Weekly was the only thing he enjoyed reading – mainly because it was crammed full of pictures and diagrams. Ever since he had been old enough to hold things, Ben had loved plumbing. When other children were playing with ducks in the bath, Ben had asked his parents for bits of pipe, and made complicated water channelling systems. If a tap broke in the house, he fixed it. If a toilet was blocked, Ben wasn’t disgusted, he was ecstatic! Ben’s parents didn’t approve of him wanting to be a plumber, though. They wanted him to be rich and famous, and to their knowledge there had never been a rich and famous plumber. Ben was as good with his hands as he was rubbish at reading, and was absolutely fascinated when a plumber came round to fix a leak. He would watch in awe, as a junior doctor might watch a great surgeon at work in an operating theatre. But he always felt like a disappointment to his mum and dad. They desperately wanted him to fulfil the ambition they had never managed: to become a professional ballroom dancer. Ben’s mum and dad had discovered their love of ballroom dancing too late to become champions themselves. And, to be honest, they seemed to prefer sitting on their bums watching it on TV to actually taking part. As such, Ben tried to keep his passion private. To avoid hurting his mum and dad’s feelings, he stashed his copies of Plumbing Weekly under his bed. And he had made an arrangement with Raj, so that every week the newsagent would keep the plumbing magazine aside for him. Now, though, he couldn’t find it anywhere. Ben had searched for the magazine behind Kerrang and Heat and even looked underneath The Lady (not an actual lady, I mean the magazine called The Lady), all to no avail. Raj’s store was madly messy, but people came from miles away to shop there as he always brought a smile to their faces. Raj was halfway up a stepladder, putting up Christmas decorations. Well, I say ‘Christmas decorations’ – he was actually putting up a banner that read ‘Happy Birthday’, though he had Tippexed out the word ‘Birthday’ and replaced it in scratchy biro with ‘Christmas’. Raj carefully stepped down off the ladder to help Ben with his search. “Your Plumbing Weekly…mmm…Let me think, have you looked beside the toffee bonbons?” said Raj. “Yes,” replied Ben. “And it’s not underneath the colouring books?” “No.” “And you have checked behind the penny chews?” “Yes.” “Well, this is very mysterious. I know I ordered one in for you, young Ben. Mmm, very mysterious…” Raj was speaking extremely slowly, in that way people do when they are thinking. “I am so sorry, Ben, I know you love it, but I don’t have a clue where it is. I do have a special offer on Cornettos.” “It’s November, Raj, it’s freezing outside!” said Ben. “Who would want to eat a Cornetto now?” “Everyone when they hear my special offer! Wait until you hear this: buy twenty-three Cornettos, get one free!” “Why on earth would I want twenty-four Cornettos?!” said Ben with a laugh. “Erm, well, I don’t know, you could maybe eat twelve, and put the other twelve in your pocket to enjoy later.” “That’s a lot of Cornettos, Raj. Why are you so keen to get rid of them?”  “They go out of date tomorrow,” said Raj, as he lumbered over to the freezer cabinet, slid open the glass top and pulled out a cardboard box of Cornettos. A freezing cold mist immediately shrouded the shop. “Look! Best Before 15th of November.” Ben studied the box. “It says Best Before 15th of November 1996.” “Well,” said Raj. “Even more reason to put them on special offer. OK, Ben, this is my final offer. Buy one box of Cornettos, I will give you ten boxes absolutely free!” “Really Raj, no thanks,” said Ben. He peered into the freezer cabinet to see what else might be lurking in there. It had never been defrosted and Ben wouldn’t have been surprised to find a perfectly preserved woolly mammoth from the Ice Age inside. “Hang on,” he said, as he moved a few frost-encrusted ice lollies out of the way. “It’s in here! Plumbing Weekly!” “Ah yes, I remember now,” said Raj. “I put it in there to keep it fresh for you.” “Fresh?” said Ben. “Well, young man, the magazine comes out on a Tuesday, but it’s Friday today. So I put it in the freezer to keep it fresh for you, Ben. I didn’t want it to go off.” Ben wasn’t sure how any magazine could ever go off, but he thanked the newsagent anyway. “That’s very kind of you, Raj. And I’ll have a packet of Rolos, please.” “I can offer you seventy-three packets of Rolos for the price of seventy-two!” exclaimed the newsagent with a smile that was meant to entice. “No thanks, Raj.” “One thousand packets of Rolos for the price of nine hundred and ninety-eight?” “No thanks,” said Ben. “Are you mad, Ben? That’s a wonderful offer. All right, all right, you drive a hard bargain, Ben. One million and seven packets of Rolos, for the price of a million and four. That’s three packets of Rolos absolutely free!” “I’ll just take one packet and the magazine, thank you.” “Of course, young sir!”  “I can’t wait to get stuck into Plumbing Weekly later. I have to go and spend the whole night with my boring old granny again.” It had been a week since Ben’s last visit, and the dreaded Friday had rolled around once more. His parents were going to see a ‘chick flick’, according to his mum. Romance and kissing and all that goo. Yuckety yuck yuck. “Tut tut tut,” said Raj, shaking his head as he counted out Ben’s change. Ben instantly felt ashamed. He had never seen the newsagent do this before. Like all the other local kids, Ben regarded Raj as ‘one of us’ not ‘one of them’. He was so full of life and laughter, Raj seemed a world away from parents and teachers and all the grown-ups who felt they could tell you off because they were bigger than you. “Just because your granny is old, young Ben,” said Raj, “doesn’t mean that she is boring. I am getting on a bit myself. And whenever I have met your granny I have found her to be a very interesting lady.” “But – ” “Don’t be too hard on her, Ben,” pleaded Raj. “We will all be old one day. Even you. And I’m sure your granny will have a secret or two. Old people always do…” ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 4 Mystery and Wonder B en wasn’t at all sure that Raj was right about Granny. That night it was the same old story. Granny served up cabbage soup, followed by cabbage pie and for dessert it was cabbage mousse. She even found some cabbage-flavoured after-dinner chocolates* somewhere. After dinner, Granny and Ben sat down together on the musty sofa as they always did. ≡ Cabbage-flavoured chocolates are not as nice as they sound, and they don’t sound that nice. “Scrabble time!” exclaimed Granny. Great, thought Ben. Tonight’s going to be a million times more boring than last week! Ben detested Scrabble. If he had his way, Ben would build a rocket, and blast all the Scrabble boards in the world into outer space. Granny pulled out the dusty old Scrabble box from the sideboard and set up the game on the pouf. Ben sighed. What seemed like decades later, but was probably just hours, Ben stared at his letters, before scanning the board. He had already put down: BORING ANCIENT QUACK (double word score) POINTLESS PONGY (this had to be checked in the dictionary) WRINKLES CABBAGESICK (triple word score) ESCAPE  HELP IHATETHISSTUPIDGAME (Granny had disallowed this on account of it not being one word). He had an ‘E’, an ‘M’, an ‘I’, a ‘U’ and a ‘D’. Granny had just put down ‘Murraymint’ (double word score) so Ben used the ‘T’ at the end to form the word ‘tedium’. “Well, it’s nearly eight o’clock, young man,” announced Granny, looking at her little gold watch. “Time for your beddy-byes, I think…” Ben groaned inwardly. Beddy-byes! He wasn’t a toddler! “But I don’t have to go to bed until nine o’clock at home!” he protested. “And not until ten o’clock when I haven’t got school in the morning.” “No, Ben, off you go to bed, please.” The old lady could be quite firm when she wanted to be. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth. I’ll be up soon to give you a bedtime story, if you like. You always used to love a bedtime story.” ♦ Later, Ben stood at the sink in the bathroom. It was a cold damp room with no window. Some of the tiles had fallen off the wall. There was just one sad little frayed towel and a very worn bar of soap that looked like it was half soap, half mould. Ben hated brushing his teeth. So he pretended to brush his teeth. Pretending to brush your teeth is simple. Don’t tell your parents I told you, but if you want to try it for yourself, all you have to do is follow this handy step-by-step guide:  See? It’s so easy. Nearly as easy as brushing your teeth. Ben looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He was eleven years old, but shorter than he wanted to be, so he stood on his tiptoes for a moment. Ben was aching to be older. Only a few more years, he thought, and he would be taller and hairier and spottier, and his Friday nights would be very different.  He wouldn’t have to stay at boring old Granny’s any more. Instead Ben would be able to do all the thrilling things the older kids in the town did on Friday nights: Hang around with a gang of friends outside the off-licence waiting for someone to tell you off. Or alternatively, sit at the bus stop with some girls in tracksuits and chew gum and never actually get on a bus. Yes, a world of mystery and wonder awaited him. However, for now, even though it was still light outside and he could hear boys in the nearby park playing football, it was time for Ben to go to sleep. In a hard little bed in a damp little room in his granny’s rundown little bungalow. That smelled of cabbage. Not just a little bit. A lot. Sighing, Ben got under the covers. Just then, Granny gently opened the door to his bedroom. He quickly shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep. She lumbered over to the bed, and Ben could feel her standing over him for a moment. “I was going to tell you that bedtime story,” she whispered. The old lady had often told him stories when he was younger, about pirates and smugglers and master criminals, but he was far too old for all that nonsense now. “What a shame you’re asleep already,” she said. “Well, I just wanted to say that I love you. Goodnight, my little Benny.” He hated being called ‘Benny’ too. And ‘little’. The nightmare continued, as Ben sensed his granny bending over to give him a kiss. The prickly old hairs on her chin bristled uncomfortably against his cheek. Then he heard the familiar rhythmic quacking sound as her bum squeaked with every step. She squeaked her way back to the door and closed it behind her, sealing the smell in. That’s it, thought Ben. I have to escape! ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 5 A Little Broken “Aaaabbhbkkkk…pfffttttt…aaaaaahhhhhhk kkkkk… ppppppppfffffffffffttttttt…” No, reader, you haven’t bought the Swahili edition of this book by mistake. That was the sound Ben was waiting for. Granny snoring. She was asleep. “Aaaaaahbhhkkkkkkk…pppppfffffffttttttt… aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhkkkkkkk…” Ben crept out of his room and made his way over to the telephone in the hall. It was one of those old style telephones that purred like a cat when you dialled a number. “Mum…?” he whispered. “I CAN HARDLY HEAR YOU!” she shouted back. There was loud jazz music playing in the background. Mum and Dad were at the arena again watching Strictly Stars Dancing Live On Stage Live! She was probably drooling as Flavio Flavioli swivelled his hips and broke the hearts of thousands of women of a certain age. “What’s the matter? Is everything all right? The old bat hasn’t died, has she?” “No, she’s fine, but I hate it here. Can’t you come and pick me up? Please,” whispered Ben. “Flavio hasn’t even done his second dance yet.” “Please,” he pleaded. “I want to come home. Granny is such a bore. It’s torture spending time with her.” “Speak to your dad.” Ben heard a muffled sound as she passed the phone over. “HELLO?” shouted Dad. “Please keep your voice down!”  “WHAT?” he shouted again. “Shhhh. Keep your voice down. You are going to wake up Granny. Can you come and pick me up, Dad? Please? I hate it here.” “No, we cannot. Seeing this show is a once in a lifetime experience.” “You saw it last Friday!” protested Ben. “Twice in a lifetime then.” “And you said you were going again next Friday too!” “Look, if I have any more of your cheek, young lad, you can stay with her until Christmas. Goodbye!” With that, his dad hung up. Ben carefully placed the receiver back in its cradle, and the phone made the quietest ting. Suddenly, he noticed that Granny’s snoring had stopped. Had she heard what he’d said? He looked behind him and thought he saw her shadow, but then it was gone. It was true that Ben found her dreadfully dull, but he didn’t want her to know that. After all she was a lonely old widow, and her husband had died long before Ben was even born. Guiltily, Ben crept back to the spare room and waited and waited and waited for the morning. ♦ At breakfast Granny seemed different. Quieter. Older maybe. A little broken. Her eyes looked bloodshot as if she’d been crying. Did she hear? thought Ben. I really hope she didn’t hear. She stood by the oven as Ben sat at the tiny kitchen table. Granny was pretending to be interested in her calendar, which was pinned to the wall by the oven. Ben could tell she was pretending, because there was nothing interesting on her calendar. This was a typical week in Granny’s hectic life: Monday: Make cabbage soup. Play Scrabble against yourself. Read a book. Tuesday: Make cabbage pie. Read another book. Blow off. Wednesday: Make the dish ‘Chocolate Surprise’. The surprise is that it isn’t made of chocolate at all. It is in fact 100% cabbage.  Thursday: Suck a Murray Mint all day. (She could make one mint last a lifetime.) Friday: Still suck the same Murray Mint. My wonderful grandson visits. Saturday: My wonderful grandson leaves. Have another nice sit down. Pooped! Sunday: Eat roast cabbage, with braised cabbage and boiled cabbage on the side. Blow off all day. Eventually, Granny turned away from the calendar. “Your mummy and daddy will be here soon,” she finally said, breaking the silence. “Yes,” said Ben, looking at his watch. “Just a few more minutes.” The minutes felt like hours. Days even. Months! A minute can be a long time. Don’t believe me? Then sit in a room on your own and do nothing but count for sixty seconds. Have you done it yet? I don’t believe you. I’m not joking. I want you to really go and do it. I am not carrying on with the story until you do. It’s not my time I’m wasting. I’ve got all day. Right, have you done it now? Good. Now back to the story… ♦ At just after eleven o’clock, the little brown car pulled up in front of Granny’s house. Much like a getaway driver for a bank robbery, Mum kept the engine running. She leaned over and opened the passenger door so Ben could dive in quickly and they could zoom off. As Ben trudged towards the car, Granny stood at the front door. “Would you like to come in for a cup of tea, Linda?” she shouted. “No thanks,” said Ben’s mum. “Quick, Ben, for goodness sake get in!” She revved the engine. “I don’t want to have to talk to the old dear.” “Shh!” said Ben. “She’ll hear you!” “I thought you didn’t like Granny?” said Mum. “I didn’t say that, Mum. I said I found her boring. But I don’t want her to know that, do I?” Mum laughed as they sped off out of Grey Close. “I wouldn’t worry, Ben, your granny isn’t really with it. She probably doesn’t understand what you’re saying half the time.” Ben frowned. He wasn’t sure about that. He wasn’t sure at all. He remembered Granny’s face at the breakfast table. Suddenly, he had a horrible feeling she understood a lot more than he had ever realised… ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 6 Cold Wet Egg T his Friday night would have been just as spectacularly dull as the last, if Ben hadn’t remembered to bring his magazine with him this time. Once again, Mum and Dad dumped their only child at Granny’s. As soon as he arrived, Ben rushed past her into his cold damp little bedroom, shut the door and read his copy of the latest Plumbing Weekly from cover to cover. There was an amazing guide, with lots and lots of colour photographs, showing how to install the new generation of combi boilers. Ben folded over the corner of the page. Now he knew what he wanted for Christmas. Once he’d finished the magazine, Ben sighed and headed to the living room. He knew he couldn’t stay in his bedroom all evening. Granny looked up and smiled when she saw him. “Scrabble time!” she exclaimed cheerily, holding up the board. ♦ The next morning the air was thick with silence. “Another boiled egg?” said Granny, as they sat in her rundown little kitchen. Ben didn’t like boiled eggs and hadn’t finished his first one yet. Granny could even ruin food this simple. The egg would always come out all watery, and the soldiers were always burnt to a cinder. When the old lady wasn’t looking, Ben would flick the egg gloop out of the window with his spoon, and hide the soldiers behind the radiator. There must be a whole platoon of them back there by now. “No thanks, Granny. I’m completely full,” replied Ben. “Delicious boiled egg, thank you,” he added.  “Mmm…” murmured the old lady, unconvinced. “It’s a bit nippy. I’m just going to put another cardigan on,” she said, even though she was already wearing two. Granny trundled out of the room, quacking as she went. Ben flicked the rest of his egg out of the window, and then tried to find something else to eat. He knew that Granny had a secret stash of chocolate biscuits that she kept on a top shelf in the kitchen. Granny would give Ben one on his birthday. Ben would also help himself to one from time to time, when his granny’s cabbage-based delicacies left him as hungry as a wolf. So he quickly slid his chair over to the cupboard and stood on it to reach the biscuits. He lifted the biscuit tin. It was a big Silver Jubilee assortment tin from 1977 that featured a scratched and faded portrait of a much younger Queen Elizabeth II on the lid. It felt really heavy. Much heavier than usual. Strange. Ben shook the tin a little. It didn’t feel or sound like it had biscuits inside. It was like it had stones or marbles in it. Even stranger. Ben unscrewed the lid. He stared. And then he stared some more. He couldn’t believe what was inside. Diamonds! Rings, bracelets, necklaces, earrings, all with great big sparkling diamonds. Diamonds, diamonds and more diamonds! Ben was no expert, but he thought there must be thousands of pounds worth of jewelry in the biscuit tin, maybe even millions. Suddenly, he heard Granny quacking her way into the room. Fumbling desperately, he put the lid back on and placed the tin on the shelf. He leaped down, yanked his chair over and sat at the table. Glancing at the window, he realised that his flicked egg hadn’t flown out into the garden, but was smeared across the glass. Granny would need a blowtorch to get that off if it dried. So he rushed over to the window and sucked the cold wet egg off the glass, then returned to his seat. It was too unpleasant to swallow so, in a panic, Ben kept it in his mouth. Granny shuffled back into the kitchen wearing her third cardigan.  Still quacking. “Better get your coat on, young man. Your mummy and daddy will be here in just a tick,” she said with a smile. Ben reluctantly swallowed the cold wet egg. It slipped down his throat. Yuck, yuck and double yuck. “Yes,” he said, fearing he would vomit and deposit the egg back on the window. Scrambled. ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 7 Bags of Manure “C an I stay at Granny’s again tonight?” announced Ben from the backseat of his mum and dad’s little brown car. The diamonds in the biscuit tin were so puzzling; he was desperate to do some detective work. Maybe even search every nook and cranny of the old lady’s bungalow. This was all awfully mysterious. Raj had said his granny might have a secret or two. And it seemed like the newsagent was right! And whatever Granny’s secret was, it must be pretty amazing to explain all those diamonds. What if she used to be a zillionaire? Or worked in a diamond mine? Or been left them by a Princess? Ben couldn’t wait to find out. “What?” asked Dad, astonished. “But you said she was boring,” said Mum, equally astonished, irritated even. “You said all old people are.” “I was just joking,” said Ben. Dad studied his son in the rear-view mirror. He found understanding his plumbing-obsessed son hard enough at the best of times. Right now Ben wasn’t making any sense at all. “Mmm, well…if you are sure, Ben…” “I am sure, Dad.” “I’ll call her when we get home. Just to check she’s not going out.” “Going out!” scoffed Mum. “The old dear hasn’t gone out for twenty years!” she added with a chuckle. Ben wasn’t sure why this was funny. “I took her out to the garden centre that time,” protested Dad. “It was only because you needed someone to help you carry a load of bags of manure,” said Mum. “She had a super day out, though,” said Dad, sounding miffed. ♦  Later, Ben sat alone on his bed. His mind was racing. Where on earth had Granny got the diamonds? How much were they worth? Why would she live in that sad little bungalow if she was so rich? Ben searched and searched his mind, but couldn’t find any answers. Then Dad entered the room. “Granny’s busy. She says she’d love to see you, but she’s going out tonight,” he announced. “What?!” spluttered Ben. Granny hardly ever went out – Ben had seen her calendar. The mystery was getting even more mysterious… ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 8 A Small Wig in a Jar B en hid in the bushes outside Granny’s bungalow. Whilst Mum and Dad were downstairs in the living room watching Strictly Stars Dancing on the TV, Ben had scaled down the drainpipe outside his bedroom window, and cycled the five miles to Granny’s. This alone was a sign of how curious Ben had become about his granny. He didn’t like cycling. His parents were always encouraging him to get more exercise. They told him that being fit was absolutely necessary if you wanted to be a professional dancer. But since it didn’t make much difference when you were lying under a sink, screwing in a new length of copper piping, Ben had never willingly taken any exercise. Until now. If Granny was really going out for the first time in twenty years, Ben had to know where. It might just hold the key to how she came to have a ton of diamonds in her biscuit tin. So he huffed and puffed along the canal towpath on his clunky old bike, until he came to Grey Close. The only good thing was that, being November, instead of being drenched in sweat, Ben was only mildly moist. He had pedalled fast because he knew he didn’t have that much time. Strictly Stars Dancing seemed to go on for hours, days even, but it had taken Ben half an hour to cycle over to Granny’s, and as soon as the show was over Mum would be calling him downstairs for his tea. Ben’s parents loved all the dancing TV shows – Dancing on Ice Skates, So You Think You Might Be Able To Dance A Bit? – but they were completely obsessed with Strictly Stars Dancing. They had recorded every single episode, and had an unrivalled collection of Strictly memorabilia in the house, including:  A lime green thong once worn by Flavio Flavioli, framed with a photograph of him wearing it A Strictly Stars Dancing real fake leather bookmark Some athlete’s foot powder signed by Flavio’s professional dance partner, the Austrian beauty, Eva Bunz His and Hers official Strictly Stars Dancing leg warmers A CD of songs nearly used on the show A small wig in a jar that had been worn by the presenter, Sir Dirk Doddery A lifesize cardboard cut-out of Flavio Flavioli that had some of Mum’s lipstick smudged around the mouth Some earwax in a jar that belonged to a celebrity contestant, the politician, Dame Rachel Prejudice MP A pair of tan tights that smelled of Eva Bunz A doodle on a napkin of a man’s bottom drawn by the nasty judge, Craig Malteser-Woodward A set of official Strictly Stars Dancing eggcups A half full tube of raxjex used by Flavio Flavioli A Craig Malteser-Woodward poseable action figure A Hawaiian Hot pizza crust that had been left by Flavio (complete with a signed letter of authenticity from Eva Bunz) It was a Saturday, so after the show had finished the family were going to be having Cheesy Beans and Sausage. Neither Mum nor Dad could cook, but of all the ready made meals Ben’s mum took out of the freezer, pricked with a fork and placed in the microwave for three minutes, this was his favourite. Ben was hungry and didn’t want to miss it – which meant he needed to get back from Granny’s house quickly. If it had been a Monday night, say, and they were having Chicken Tikka Lasagne, or a Wednesday and Doner Kebab Pizza, or a Sunday and Yorkshire Pudding Chow Mein* was on the menu, Ben wouldn’t have been so bothered. ≡ The supermarket chain where Ben’s dad worked liked to bring the cuisine of two countries together in one easily microwaveable pack. By combining dishes from different countries, perhaps they would be able to bring peace to a deeply divided world. Or maybe not. ♦  Night was falling. As it was late November it was rapidly growing colder and darker, and Ben was shivering in the bushes as he spied on his granny. Where can she be going? thought Ben. She hardly ever goes out. He saw a shadow move in her bungalow. Then her face appeared at the window, and Ben quickly shot out of view. The bushes rustled. Shhh! thought Ben. Had the old lady seen him? After a few moments the front door opened slowly, and out stepped a figure dressed entirely in black. A black jumper, black leggings, black gloves, black socks, probably even a black bra and knickers. A black balaclava disguised the face, but from the stoop Ben knew it was Granny. She looked like someone from one of the covers of the books she loved reading. She straddled her mobility scooter and revved the engine. Where on earth was she going? And, more importantly, why was she dressed like a ninja? Ben propped his bike against the bushes, and got ready to tail his own grandmother. Which was one thing he had never in a million years dreamed of doing. Like a spider scuttling around a bathroom trying not to be seen, Granny steered her scooter close to the walls. Ben followed on foot as quietly as possible. It wasn’t too difficult to keep up, as the top speed of the mobility scooter was four miles per hour. Whirring across the road, she suddenly looked back as if she had heard something, and Ben dived behind a tree. He waited, holding his breath. Nothing. After a few moments, he poked his head around the trunk, and saw that Granny had reached the end of the road. He continued his chase. Soon they were near the town’s high street. It was all but deserted. As it was early evening, all the shops had shut for the day and the pubs and restaurants had yet to open for the night. Granny stayed out of the glow of the streetlights, swerved into doorways, as she neared her destination. Ben gasped when he saw where she had parked. The jeweler’s shop. Necklaces and rings and watches sparkled in the window. Ben couldn’t believe his eyes as Granny took out a tin of cabbage soup from the scooter’s basket. She glanced around theatrically then pulled back her arm in readiness to smash the tin through the jeweler’s shop window. “Nooooo!” shouted Ben. Granny dropped the tin. It crashed to the ground and cabbage soup oozed on to the pavement. “Ben?” hissed Granny. “What are you doing here?” ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 9 The Black Cat B en stared at his granny as she stood by the jeweler’s shop, dressed all in black. “Ben?” she prompted. “What are you doing following me?” “I just…I…” Ben was so shocked he couldn’t form a sentence. “Well,” she said. “Whatever you’re doing here, you’ll have the cops on us in no time. We’d better get out of here. Quick, jump on.” “But I can’t – ” “Ben! We’ve got about thirty seconds before that CCTV camera comes on.” She pointed to a camera screwed to the wall of an apartment block next to the row of shops. Ben jumped on the back of her mobility scooter. “You know when the CCTV cameras come on?” he asked. “Oh,” said Granny, “you’d be surprised by what I know.” Ben looked at her back as she drove. He’d just seen her preparing to rob a jeweler’s shop, how could he be more surprised? Clearly there was a lot more to his granny than he had ever known. “Hold on,” said Granny. “I’m going full throttle.” She violently twisted the handle of the scooter, to absolutely no effect that Ben could feel. They hummed off in the dark, going about three miles per hour with the increased weight. ♦ “‘The Black Cat’?” repeated Ben. They were finally back sitting in Granny’s living room. She had made a pot of tea and laid out some chocolate biscuits. “Yes, that’s what they called me,” replied Granny. “I was the most wanted jewel thief in the world.”  Ben’s head was exploding with a million questions. Why? Where? Who? What? When? It was impossible to know what to ask first. “No one else knows except you, Ben,” continued Granny. “Even your granddad went to his grave not knowing. Can you keep a secret? You have to swear not to tell a soul.” “But – ” Granny’s face looked fierce for a moment. Her eyes narrowed and darkened like a snake about to bite. “You have to swear,” the old lady said with an intensity Ben had never witnessed before. “Us criminals take our oaths very seriously. Very seriously indeed.” Ben gulped, a little scared. “I swear not to tell anyone.” “Not even your mother and father!” barked Granny, nearly spitting out her false teeth in the process. “I said, I swear not to tell anyone,” barked back Ben. Ben had been learning about Venn diagrams in school recently. As he had sworn not to tell anyone, and let’s say that ‘anyone’ is Set A, then Mum and Dad are obviously included in Set A and are of course a subset of it, so there was really no need for Granny to ask Ben to swear a second time. Take a look at this handy diagram:  But Ben didn’t think his granny would be interested in Venn diagrams right now. Since she was still staring at him with those scary eyes, he sighed, and said, “All right, I swear not to tell Mum and Dad.” “Good boy,” said Granny as her hearing aid began to whistle. “Erm, on one condition,” ventured Ben. “What’s that?” said Granny, seeming a little startled by his nerve. “You have to tell me everything…” ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 10 Everything “I was about your age when I stole my first diamond ring,” said Granny. Ben was astonished; partly at the idea that Granny had ever been his age, which seemed impossible, and partly because of the obvious fact that eleven-year-old girls do not usually steal diamonds. Glitter pens, hairclips, toy ponies maybe, diamonds definitely not. “I know you look at me with my Scrabble and my knitting and my fondness for cabbage, and think I am just some boring old dear…” “No…” said Ben, not entirely convincingly. “But you forget, child, that I was young once.” “What was the first ring you stole?” said Ben eagerly. “Did it have a really big diamond on it?” The old lady chuckled. “Not so big! No, it was my first one. I’ve still got it somewhere. Go into the kitchen will you, Ben, and fetch the Silver Jubilee biscuit tin from the shelf.” Ben shrugged as if he knew nothing about the Silver Jubilee biscuit tin, and its incredible contents. “Whereabouts is it, Granny?” asked Ben as he left the living room. “Just on top of the larder, boy!” called Granny. “Chop-chop. Your mummy and daddy will be wondering where you are soon.” Ben remembered that he had wanted to rush home for Cheesy Beans and Sausage. Suddenly that seemed colossally unimportant. He wasn’t even feeling hungry any more. Ben re-entered the room holding the tin. It was even heavier than he remembered. He passed it to his granny. “Good boy,” she said as she rummaged through the tin, and picked out a particularly beautiful little sparkler.  “Aah, yes, this is it!” To Ben, all the diamond rings looked pretty much the same. However, Granny seemed to know each of them as if they were her oldest friends. “Such a little beauty,” she said as she brought the ring up to her eye for closer inspection. “This is the first one I stole, back when I was a nipper.” Ben couldn’t imagine what Granny would have been like young. He had only known her as an old lady. He even imagined she had been born an old lady. That years ago in the hospital when her mother had given birth and asked the midwife if it was a boy or a girl, the midwife might have replied, “It’s an old lady!” “I grew up in a small village, and my family were very poor,” continued Granny. “And up at the top of the hill was this grand country house where a Lord and Lady lived. Lord and Lady Davenport. It was just after the war and we didn’t have much food in those days. I was hungry, so one night at midnight, when everyone was asleep I crept out of my mother and father’s little cottage. Under the cover of darkness, I made my way through the woods and up the hill to Davenport House.” “Weren’t you scared?” asked Ben. “Yes, of course I was. Being alone in the dark woods at night, it was terrifying. There were guard dogs at the house. Great big black Dobermans. So as quietly as I could, I climbed a drainpipe and found an unlocked window. I was a very little girl at eleven, small for my age. So I managed to squeeze myself through a tiny gap in the window, and landed behind a velvet curtain. When I pulled back the curtain I realised I was in Lord and Lady Davenport’s bedroom.” “Oh no!” said Ben. “Oh yes,” continued the old lady. “I thought I might just take some food perhaps, but next to the bed I saw this little beauty.” She indicated the diamond ring. “So you just took it?” “Being an international jewel thief is never that simple, young man,” said Granny. “The Lord and Lady were snoring heavily, but if I woke them I’d be dead. The Lord always slept with a shotgun by the bed.” “A shotgun?” asked Ben.  “Yes, he was posh, and being posh he liked hunting pheasants, so he owned many guns.” Ben was sweating with nerves. “But he didn’t wake up and try and shoot you, did he?” “Be patient, young man. All in good time. I crept over to Lady Davenport’s side of the bed and picked up the diamond ring. I couldn’t believe how beautiful it was. I had never seen one up close before. My mother would never have dreamed of owning one. ‘I don’t need jewels,’ she would say to us children. ‘You are my little diamonds.’ I wondered at the diamond in my hand for a moment. It was the most gorgeous thing I had ever seen in my life. Then, suddenly, there was an almighty noise.” Ben frowned. “What was it?” “Lord Davenport was a big fat greedy man. He must have had too much to eat earlier because he let out the most enormous burp!” Ben laughed and Granny laughed too. He knew burps weren’t supposed to be funny, but couldn’t help laughing. “It was so loud!” said Granny, still chuckling. “BBBBBBBBBBBB BUUUUUUUUU UUUUUURRRRR RRRRRRRRPPPP PPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!” she mimicked. Ben was helpless with laughter now. “It was so loud,” continued Granny, “that I was startled and dropped the ring on the polished wooden floor. It made quite a bang as it hit the teak, and both Lord and Lady Davenport woke up.” “Oh no!” “Oh yes! So I grabbed the ring and ran back to the open window. I didn’t dare look behind me, as I could hear Lord Davenport cocking his shotgun. I leapt down on to the grass, and all of a sudden the lights in the house came on and the dogs were barking and I was running for my life. Then I heard a deafening sound…” “Another burp?” asked Ben. “No, a gunshot this time. Lord Davenport was shooting at me as I ran down the hill and back to the woods.” “Then what happened?” Granny looked at her little gold watch. “My dear, you had better head home. Your mummy and daddy will be worried sick.”  “I doubt it,” said Ben. “All they care about is stupid ballroom dancing.” “That’s not true,” said Granny unexpectedly. “You know they love you.” “I want to hear the end of the story,” said Ben, frustrated. He was desperate to know what happened next. “You will. Another day.” “But Granny…” “Ben, you have to go home.” “That’s not fair!” “Ben, you must leave now. I can tell you what happened when you come another day.” “BUT!” “To be continued,” she said. ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 11 Cheesy Beans and Sausage B en sped home on his bike, not even noticing his burning legs and aching chest. He was going so fast he thought the police might give him a speeding ticket. As the wheels raced round so did his mind. Could his boring old granny really be a gangsta?! A Gangsta Granny?! That must be why she liked books about gangstas so much – she was one! He slid through the back door just as the familiar Strictly Stars Dancing theme tune blasted out from the living room. He had made it home just in time. But as Ben was about to disappear upstairs and pretend he had been in his bedroom doing his homework, Mum burst into the kitchen. “What are you doing?” she asked suspiciously. “You look very sweaty.” “Oh, nothing,” said Ben, feeling very sweaty. “Look at you,” she continued, as she approached him. “You are sweating like a pig.” Ben had seen a few pigs in his life and none of them had been sweating. In fact, pig fans everywhere will tell you that pigs don’t even have sweat glands, so they can’t sweat. Wow, this book is actually really educational. “I’m not sweating,” Ben protested. Being accused of sweating made him sweat even more. “You are sweating. Have you been out running?” “No,” replied a now very sweaty Ben. “Ben, don’t lie to me, I’m your mother,” she said, pointing at herself, a false nail flying off into the air in the process.  Her false nails came off a lot. Once Ben had even found one in his microwaveable paella Bolognese. “If you haven’t been out running, Ben, then why are you sweating?” Ben had to think fast. The Strictly Stars Dancing theme tune was coming to an end. “I was dancing!” he blurted out. “Dancing?” Mum didn’t look convinced. Ben was no Flavio Flavioli. And of course he hated ballroom dancing. “Yes, well, I have changed my mind about ballroom dancing. I love it!” “But you said you hated it,” shot back an increasingly suspicious Mum. “Many many many times. Only the other week you said that you would rather ‘eat your own bogeys than watch that rubbish’. Hearing you say that was like a dagger through my heart!” Mum was becoming visibly upset at the memory. “I’m sorry, Mum, I really am.” Ben reached out a hand to comfort her and another false nail fell on to the floor. “But now I love it, honestly. I was just watching Strictly through the crack in the door, and copying all the moves.” Mum beamed with pride. She looked as if her whole life suddenly had meaning. Her face turned strangely happy yet sad, as if this was destiny. “Do you want to be a…” She took a deep breath, “…professional dancer?” “Where’s my Cheesy Beans and Sausage, wife?!” called Dad from the living room. “Shut your face, Pete!” Mum’s eyes were wet with tears of joy. She hadn’t cried so much since Flavio was kicked out of the show in week two last year. Flavio had been forced to partner Dame Rachel Prejudice, who was so podgy all he could do was drag her around the floor. “Well…erm…aah…” Ben desperately searched for a way to get out of this one. “…yeah.” That really wasn’t it. “Yes! I knew it!” cried Mum. “Pete, come in here a moment. Ben has got something he needs to tell you.”  Dad trudged in wearily. “What is it, Ben? You’re not joining the circus, are you? My word, you are sweaty.” “No, Pete,” said Mum, slowly and deliberately as if she was about to read out the name of a winner at an awards ceremony. “Ben doesn’t want to be a silly old plumber any more – ” “Thank goodness for that,” said Dad. “He wants to be…” Mum looked at her son. “Tell him, Ben.” Ben opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Mum chimed in. “Ben wants to be a ballroom dancer!” “Oh, there is a God!” exclaimed Dad. He looked up at the nicotine- stained ceiling as if he might catch a glimpse of the divine one. “He was just practising in the kitchen,” jabbered Mum excitedly. “Copying all the moves from the show…” Dad looked into his son’s eyes and shook his hand manfully. “That’s wonderful news, my boy! Your mum and me haven’t achieved much in our lives. What with Mum being a nail polisher – ” “I am a nail technician, Pete!” corrected Mum scornfully. “There is a world of difference, Pete, you do know that…” “Nail technician. Sorry. And me being just a boring old security guard because I was too fat for the police. The most excitement I’ve had all year was when I stopped a man in a wheelchair speeding out of the store with a tin of custard concealed under his blanket. But you becoming a ballroom dancer, well…this…this is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to us.” “The very greatest!” said Mum. “The very very greatest,” agreed Dad. “Really it’s the very very very greatest,” said Mum. “Let’s just agree it’s extremely great,” said Dad, irritated. “Only, I warn you, boy, it’s not going to be easy. If you train eight hours a day every day for the next twenty years, you might just get on the TV show.” “Maybe he can do the American version!” exclaimed Mum. “Oh Pete, just imagine, our boy a huge star in America!” “Well, let’s not jump the gun, wife. He’s not won the British one yet. Right now we have to think about entering him for a junior competition.”  “You’re right, Pete. Gail told me there’s one in the town hall just before Christmas.” “Crack open the sparkling wine, wife! Our son is going to be a cha- cha-cha champion!” A naughty word exploded in Ben’s head. How on earth was he going to get out of this?! ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 12 The Love Bomb B en had spent the whole of Sunday morning being measured up by Mum for his dance outfit. She had stayed up through the night, sketching possible designs. Under duress, he was forced to choose one, and pointed a limp finger at the one that he thought was the least hideous. Mum’s hand-drawn options ranged all the way from the embarrassing to the humiliating… ♦ There was: The Woodland Fruit Cocktail Thunder and Lightning Accident and Emergency Ice and a Slice The Hedgerow and Badger The Quality Street Eggs ‘n’ Bacon Confetti The Underwater World Burning Love Cheese & Pickle The Solar System Piano Man  But the one that Ben thought was the least worst…was the Love Bomb:  “We will have to find you a nice young girl to partner with for the competition!” said Mum, excitedly, as she accidentally ran one of her fake nails under the sewing machine and it exploded. Ben hadn’t thought about dance partners. Not only was he going to have to dance, he was going to have to dance with a girl! And not just any girl, but a revoltingly precocious sparkly fake-tanned leotard-wearing over- made-up one. Ben was still at the age when he thought girls were as appealing as frogspawn. “Oh, I’m just going to dance on my own,” he spluttered. “A solo piece!” exclaimed Mum. “How original!” “In fact, I can’t stand here talking all day. I’d better go and practise,” said Ben, as he disappeared upstairs to his room. He shut the door, turned on his radio, and then climbed out of the window and raced over to Granny’s bungalow on his bike. ♦ “So, you were running off into the woods, when Lord Davenport started shooting at you…” Ben was eagerly prompting his granny. But for the moment her mind looked blank. “Was I?” said Granny, looking increasingly-befuddled. “That’s where the story ended last night. You said you had snatched the ring from the Davenports’ bedroom, and were running across the lawn when you heard shots…” “Oh yes, yes,” muttered Granny, her face suddenly illuminated. Ben smiled broadly. He suddenly remembered how he had used to love his granny telling stories when he was younger, transporting him to a magical world. A world where you paint pictures in your mind that are more thrilling than all the movies or TV shows or video games in the universe. Only a couple of weeks ago he had pretended to be asleep to stop her telling him a bedtime story. Clearly he’d forgotten how thrilling stories could be. “I was running and running,” continued Granny breathlessly, as if she was actually running, “and I heard a shot ring out. Then another. I knew from the sound that it was definitely a shotgun rather than a rifle – ” “What’s the difference?” asked Ben. “Well, a rifle shoots one bullet and is more accurate. But a shotgun sprays hundreds of little deadly balls of lead. Any idiot can hit you if they fire a shotgun in your direction.”  “And did he?” said Ben. His smile had faded now. He was genuinely worried. “Yes, but luckily I was far away by then so I was only grazed. I could hear the dogs barking too. They were hunting me; and I was only a small girl. If they had caught me, the hounds would have ripped me to shreds…” Ben gasped in horror. “So how did you get away?” he asked. “I took a chance. I couldn’t outrun the dogs through the forest. The fastest runner in the world couldn’t. But I knew the woods really well. I used to play in them for hours with my brothers and sisters. I knew if I could just get across the stream, then the dogs would lose the scent.” “How come?” “Dogs can’t follow a scent across water. And there was a great oak tree just on the other side of the stream. If I climbed that tree, I might be safe.” Ben couldn’t imagine his granny climbing stairs, let alone a tree. She had lived in her bungalow ever since he could remember. “More shots rang out through the darkness as I ran towards the stream,” continued the old lady. “And I stumbled in the gloom of the forest. I tripped on a tree root and fell face first in the mud. Scrambling to my feet, I turned round to see an army of men on horseback led by Lord Davenport. They were carrying flaming torches and holding shotguns. The whole forest was lit up with the fire from the torches. I jumped into the stream. It was around this time of year; in the depth of winter and the water was icy. The cold shocked me and I could hardly breathe. I clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream. I could hear the dogs getting nearer and nearer, barking and barking. There must have been dozens of them. I looked behind me and I could see their sharp teeth gleaming in the moonlight. “So I waded across the stream and started climbing the tree. My hands were muddy, and my legs and feet were wet, and I kept slipping down the trunk. I frantically rubbed my hands on my nightshirt and began to climb again. I scrambled to the very top of the tree and stayed as still as I could. I heard the dogs and the army of Davenport’s men follow the stream down to a different part of the forest. The dogs’ ferocious barks became distant and after a while the torches were just specks in the distance. I was safe. I shivered up that tree for hours. I waited until dawn, slid down the tree, and made my way back to our cottage. I crept into bed and lay there for a few moments before the sun rose.” Ben could picture everything she described perfectly in his mind. Granny had him utterly spellbound. “Did they come looking for you?” he asked. “Well, no one got a good enough look at me, so Davenport had his men search everywhere in the village. Every cottage was turned upside down to look for the ring.” “Didn’t you say anything?” “I wanted to. I felt so guilty. But I knew if I owned up I would be in deep trouble. Lord Davenport would have had me publicly flogged in the village square.” “So what did you do?” “I…swallowed it.” Ben couldn’t believe his ears. “The ring, Granny? You swallowed the ring?” “I thought it was the best way to hide it. In my stomach. A few days later it came out when I went to the toilet.” “That must have been painful!” said Ben, his bum wincing at the thought. Passing a big diamond ring out of his bottom didn’t sound in any way enjoyable. “It was painful. Excruciating, in fact.” Granny grimaced. “The good thing was that our cottage had been searched already from top to bottom – not my bottom – the bottom of the cottage, I mean…” Ben chuckled, “… and Davenport’s men had moved on to searching the next village. So one night I went off into the woods and hid the ring. I placed it where no one would ever look; under a rock in the stream.” “Clever!” said Ben. “But that ring was only the first of many, Ben. Stealing it had been the biggest thrill of my life. And as I lay in bed each night, all I dreamed about was stealing more and more diamonds. That ring was just the beginning…” continued Granny in a low whisper, staring deep into Ben’s innocent young eyes, “…of a lifetime of crime.” ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 13 A Lifetime of Crime H ours passed in what seemed like minutes, as Granny told her grandson how she had stolen every one of the dazzling items spread out on the living-room floor. The huge tiara had belonged to the wife of the President of the United States of America, the First Lady. Granny told Ben how, over fifty years earlier, she had sailed all the way to America on a cruise liner to steal it from the White House in Washington. And that whilst sailing back home she had robbed every rich lady on the ship of her jewels! How she was caught red-handed by the captain of the ship and escaped by diving overboard and swimming the last few miles of the Atlantic Ocean back to England with all of the jewelry hidden in her knickers. Granny told Ben that the sparkling emerald earrings that had been in her little bungalow for decades were worth over a million pounds each. They had once belonged to the wife of an enormously wealthy Indian maharajah; a maharani. The old lady recounted how she enlisted the help of a herd of elephants to steal them. She had coaxed the elephants to stand on top of each other to form a giant ladder so she could scale the wall of the fort in India where the earrings were kept in the royal bedchamber. The most amazing tale of all was of how she stole the enormous deep blue diamond and sapphire brooch that sat sparkling on her worn living-room carpet. She told Ben that it had once belonged to the last Empress of Russia, who ruled with her husband the Tsar before the communist revolution of 1917. It had for many years been under bulletproof glass at the Hermitage museum in St Petersburg, guarded twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year by a platoon of fearsome Russian soldiers.  This theft had required the most elaborate plan of all. Granny had hidden in an ancient suit of armour in the museum, which dated back hundreds of years to the time of Catherine the Great. Each time the soldiers looked the other way, she would edge forward in the metal suit a few millimetres, until she got close enough to the brooch. It took her a week. “What, like Granny’s Footsteps?” asked Ben. “Exactly, young man!” she replied. “Then I smashed the glass with the silver axe I was holding and grabbed the brooch.” “How did you escape, Granny?” “That’s a good question…now, how did I escape?” Granny looked flummoxed. “Sorry, it’s my age, boy. I forget things.” Ben smiled supportively. “That’s OK, Granny.” Soon the old lady’s memory seemed to come back into focus. “Oh yes, I remember,” she continued. “I ran outside into the courtyard of the museum, leapt into the barrel of a huge cannon and then fired myself to safety!” Ben pictured this for a moment: his granny, in deepest darkest Russia, flying through the air in an ancient suit of armour. It was hard to believe, but how else could this little old lady come to have such an astonishing collection of priceless gems? Ben loved Granny’s daring tales. At home, Ben had never had stories read or told to him. His parents always just switched on the television and slumped down on the sofa when they got home from work. Hearing the old lady talk was so exciting Ben wished he could move in with her. He could listen to Granny all day. “There can’t be a jewel in the world you haven’t stolen!” said Ben. “Oh yes there is, young man. Hang on, what’s that?” “What’s what?” said Ben. Granny was pointing behind Ben’s head, an expression of horror on her face. “It’s…It’s…” “What?” said Ben, not daring to turn around and see what she was pointing at. A shiver ran down his spine. “Whatever you do,” said Granny, “don’t turn round…” ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 14 Nosy Neighbour B en couldn’t help himself, and his eyes darted towards the window. For a brief moment he saw a dark figure wearing a strange hat peer through the dirty glass, and then quickly disappear out of view. “There was a man peering in at the window,” said Ben breathlessly. “I know,” said Granny. “I told you not to look.” “Shall I go out and see who it was?” said Ben, trying to hide the fact that he was more than a little frightened. Really, he wanted Granny to go out and see who it was. “I bet it was my nosy neighbour, Mr Parker. He lives at number seven, he always wears a pork-pie hat, and he keeps spying on me.” “Why?” asked Ben. Granny shrugged. “I don’t know. I imagine he has a rather cold head, or something.” “What?” said Ben. “Oh. No, not his hat. I mean, why does he keep spying on you?” “He’s a retired Major, and now he runs the Neighbourhood Watch scheme in Grey Close.” “What’s Neighbourhood Watch?” asked Ben. “It’s a group of local people who keep an eye out for burglars. But Mr Parker just uses it as an excuse to spy on everyone, the nosy old git. I often come back from the supermarket with my bag of cabbages and see he’s hiding behind his net curtains spying on me with a pair of binoculars.” “Is he suspicious about you?” said Ben, more than a little panicked. He didn’t want to be thrown in jail for aiding and abetting a criminal. He didn’t really know what ‘abetting’ meant, actually, but he knew it was a crime, and he knew he was too young for prison.  “He is suspicious about everyone. We have to keep an eye out for him, young lad. The man is a menace.” Ben went over to the window and peered out. He couldn’t see anyone. BBBBBRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIINNNNN NNNGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ben’s heart missed a beat. It was only the doorbell, but if they let Mr Parker inside he would see all the evidence the police would need to send Ben and his granny straight to prison. “Don’t answer it!” said Ben, as he ran to the middle of the room and started stuffing all the jewels back in the tin, as quickly as he could. “What do you mean, don’t answer it?! He knows I am at home. He just saw us through the window. You answer the door and I will hide the jewels.” “Me?” “Yes you! Hurry!” BBBBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIII IIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGG GGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! This ring was more insistent. Mr Parker had left his finger on the buzzer for even longer. Ben took a deep breath and walked calmly through the hall to the front door. He opened it. Outside stood a man in a very silly hat. Don’t believe me? This is how silly his hat was:  “Yes?” said Ben in a squeaky high voice. “Can I help you?” Mr Parker put his foot inside the bungalow so the front door couldn’t be closed on him. “Who are you?” he barked, nasally. He had a very big nose, which made him seem even nosier than he was, and he already seemed extremely nosy. Because he had a big nose he also had a very nasal voice, which made everything he said, however serious, seem a little bit absurd. But his eyes shone red like a demon. “I am Granny’s friend,” spluttered Ben. Why did I say that? he thought. In truth, he was in a terrible panic, and his tongue was running away with him. “Friend?” snarled Mr Parker, pushing open the front door. He was stronger than Ben, and soon forced his way inside. “I mean grandson, Mr Parker, sir…” said Ben, retreating back towards the living room. “Why are you lying to me?” he said, taking several paces forward as Ben took several paces back. It was if they were dancing the tango. “I am not lying!” cried Ben. They reached the living-room door. “You can’t go in there!” yelled Ben, thinking of the jewels still scattered all over the carpet. “Why not?” “Erm…umm…Because Granny is doing her naked yoga!” Ben needed a dramatic excuse to stop Mr Parker barging through the door and seeing the jewels. He was pretty sure he had hit the jackpot as Mr Parker paused and furrowed his brow. Sadly, the nosy neighbour was not convinced. “Naked yoga?! A likely story! I need to talk to your grandmother right away. Now get out of my way, you nasty little worm of a boy!” he said as he shoved the boy aside and opened the living-room door. Granny must have heard Ben through the door because when Mr Parker burst into the room she was standing in her bra and knickers in a tree pose.  “Mr Parker, do you mind?” said Granny, in mock horror that he had seen her in a state of undress. Mr Parker’s eyes spun around the room. He didn’t know where to look, so he fixed his glare on the now bare carpet. “Excuse me, Madam, but I need to ask you, where are those jewels I saw a moment ago?”  Ben spied the Silver Jubilee biscuit tin poking out from behind the sofa. Surreptitiously he edged it out of view with his foot. “What jewels, Mr Parker? Have you been spying on me again?” demanded Granny, still in her underwear. “Well, I, err…” he spluttered. “I had good reason. I was suspicious when I saw a young gentleman enter your property. I thought he might be a burglar.” “I let him in through the front door.” “He might have been a very charming burglar. He might have weaselled his way into your confidence.” “He’s my grandson. He stays every Friday night.” “Ah!” said Mr Parker, triumphantly. “But it’s not Friday night! So you can see why my suspicions were raised. And as head of Grey Close’s Neighbourhood Watch I must report anything suspicious I see to the police.” “I’ve got a good mind to report you to the police, Mr Parker!” said Ben. Granny looked at him curiously. “Whatever for?” said the man. His eyes narrowed. They were now so red it was like there was a fire in his brain. “For spying on old ladies in their underwear!” said Ben triumphantly. Granny winked at Ben. “She was fully clothed when I looked through the window…” protested Mr Parker. “That’s what they all say!” said Granny. “Now get out of my house before you are arrested for being a Peeping Tom!” “You’ve not heard the last of me. Good day!” said Mr Parker. With that, he spun on his heels and left the room. Granny and Ben heard the front door slam behind him and they ran over to the window and watched him scuttle back to his bungalow. “I think we frightened him off,” said Ben. “But he’ll be back,” said Granny. “We have to be very careful.” “Yes,” said Ben, more than a little alarmed. “We’d better hide this tin somewhere else.” Granny thought for a moment. “Yes, I’ll put it under the floorboards.” “OK,” said Ben. “But first…” “Yes, Ben?” “You might want to get dressed.” ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 15 Reckless and Thrilling W hen Granny had put her clothes back on, she and Ben sat down on the sofa. “Granny, before Mr Parker turned up you were telling me there was one jewel that you never stole,” Ben whispered. “There is something quite special that every great thief in the world would love to get their hands on. But it’s impossible. It just can’t be done.” “I bet you could do it, Granny. You’re the greatest thief the world has ever known.” “Thank you, Ben, perhaps I am, or rather was…and stealing these particular jewels might be every great thief’s dream, but it would just be, well…impossible.” “Jewels? There’s more than one?” “Yes, my dear. The last time anyone tried to steal them was three hundred years ago. A Captain Blood I believe. And I am not sure the Queen would be pleased…” She chuckled. “You don’t mean…?” “The Crown Jewels, yes, my boy.” ♦ Ben had learned about the Crown Jewels in a history lesson at school. History was one of the few subjects he liked, mainly because of all the gory punishments they used to have in the olden days. ‘Hanged, drawn and quartered’ was his absolute favourite, but he also liked the breaking wheel, being burned at the stake, and of course a red-hot poker up the bum. Who doesn’t? At school, Ben had learned that the Crown Jewels were in fact a set of crowns, swords, sceptres, rings, bracelets and orbs, some of which were nearly a thousand years old. They were used when a new king or queen was crowned, and since 1303 (the year, not the time), they had been kept under lock and key in the Tower of London. Ben had begged his parents to take him to see them, but they had moaned that London was too far away (even though it wasn’t that far). To be honest, they never really went anywhere as a family. When he was younger, Ben used to listen in silent wonder to his classmates, as they recounted their myriad adventures in ‘show and tell’. Trips to the seaside, visits to museums, even holidays abroad. The knot in his stomach would tighten when his turn came. He was too embarrassed to admit that all he had done during the holidays was eat microwaveable meals and watch TV, so he would make up stories about flying kites and climbing trees and exploring castles. But now he had the greatest ‘show and tell’ of all time. His granny was an international jewel thief. A gangsta! Except if he showed or told this, the old dear would be put in prison and they would throw away the key. Ben realised that this was his big chance to do something crazy and reckless and thrilling. “I can help you,” said Ben in a cool and calm manner, though his heart was beating faster than ever. “Help me do what?” replied the old lady, a little befuddled. “Steal the Crown Jewels, of course!” said Ben. ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 16 ‘N’ ‘O’ Spells ‘NO’ “N o!” shouted Granny as her hearing aid began whistling furiously. “Yes!” shouted Ben. “No!” “Yes!” “Nooo!” “Yeeees!” “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” “YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEES!” This went on for a few minutes, but to save paper and therefore the trees and therefore the forests and therefore the environment and therefore the world I have tried to keep it short. “There is absolutely no way I am letting a boy of your age come on a heist with me! Especially not to steal the Crown Jewels! And most important of all it’s impossible! It can’t be done!” exclaimed Granny. “There must be a way…” pleaded Ben. “Ben, I said ‘no’ and that’s final!” “But – ” “No buts, Ben. No. ‘N’ and ‘O’ spells ‘no’.” Ben was bitterly disappointed, but the lady was not for turning. “I’d better go then,” he said, despondently. Granny looked a little downcast too. “Yes dear, you’d better, your mummy and daddy will be very worried about you.” “They won’t be – ” “Ben! Home! Now!” ♦  Ben was sad to see that Granny was becoming like one of the boring grown-ups again, just when she’d started to become interesting. Still, he did what she said. Apart from anything else, he didn’t want to make his parents suspicious, so he raced home and climbed up the drainpipe to his bedroom window, before rushing downstairs to the living room. Unsurprisingly, though, Mum and Dad hadn’t been worried about where Ben was at all. They had been too busy planning their son’s rise to dancing superstardom to notice he was gone. Dad had been calling and calling the national under-twelve dance competition hotline until finally he got through and secured his son a place. Mum was right, the competition was at the town hall in just a couple of weeks’ time. There was no time to lose, so Mum had been working every waking moment on her son’s Love Bomb outfit. “How’s the rehearsals going, boy?” asked Dad. “You look like you’ve worked up quite a sweat.” “Fine, thank you, Dad,” lied Ben. “I really am getting something really spectacular together for the big night.” Ben cursed his runaway mouth. Something spectacular? He’d be lucky if he didn’t fall over and knock himself out. “Well, we can’t wait to see it! Not long to go!” said Mum, not even looking up from the sewing machine, as she stitched a row of hundreds of sparkling red hearts down the side of his Lycra trousers. “I’d kind of like to practise on my own for now, Mum, you know…” Ben gulped nervously. “Until it’s completely ready to show you.” “Yes, yes, we understand,” said Mum. Ben sighed with relief. He had bought himself a bit more time. But only a little bit. In a couple of weeks Ben was still going to have to perform a solo dance routine for the whole town. He sat on his bed, and reached underneath it for his stash of Plumbing Weeklys. Flicking through an issue from the previous year, he saw that it contained a feature entitled ‘A Short History of Plumbing’, that focused on some of London’s oldest sewage pipes. Ben frantically turned the pages to find it. Eureka! There it was.  Hundreds of years ago the River Thames, on the banks of which the Tower of London is situated, had been an open sewer. (Technically speaking, that means there was a lot of wee and poo in it.) Buildings along the riverside simply had big pipes leading from their toilets straight into the river. In the magazine were detailed historical diagrams of various famous buildings in London, showing where their old sewage pipes connected to the river. And… Ben’s finger ran down the article… Yes! A chart of the sewer pipes at the Tower of London. This could be the key to stealing the Crown Jewels. One pipe was nearly a metre wide, big enough for a child to swim up. And maybe big enough for a little old lady too! The article also said that, when the plumbing systems were modernised and proper sewers installed a lot of the old pipes were simply left where they were, because it was simpler than digging them up. Ben’s head spun as he thought about what this meant. It was possible – just possible – that there was still a huge pipe leading from the Thames into the Tower of London, and that most people, apart from very keen plumbing enthusiasts, had forgotten it was there. Ben wouldn’t have known himself, if he hadn’t been a long-term subscriber to Plumbing Weekly. He and Granny could swim up that pipe, and get into the Tower… Mum and Dad were wrong! he thought. Plumbing can be exciting. Of course, it was a sewage pipe, which wasn’t ideal, but any poo and wee still in it would be hundreds of years old. Ben didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. At that moment, he heard a creak in the floorboards and his bedroom door flew open. His mum burst in holding a big piece of Lycra that looked ominously like his ‘Love Bomb’ outfit. Ben quickly concealed the magazine under his bed, which made him look incredibly guilty. “I was just going to get you to try this on,” said Mum. “Oh yes,” said Ben, as he sat on his bed awkwardly, his heels pushing the remaining Plumbing Weeklys out of sight of Mum’s prying eyes.  “What’s that?” she said. “What did you hide when I came in? Is that Nuts magazine?” “No,” said Ben, swallowing his guilt. This looked way worse than it was. It looked like he was hiding a naughty magazine under the bed. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Ben. I think it’s healthy you are expressing an interest in girls.” Oh no! thought Ben. My mum’s going to talk to me about girls! “There’s nothing embarrassing about being interested in girls, Ben.” “Yes there is! Girls are gross!” “No, Ben, it’s the most natural thing in the world…” She’s just not stopping! “THE DINNER IS NEARLY READY, LOVE!” came a shout from downstairs. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE?” “I AM TALKING TO BEN ABOUT GIRLS!” Mum shouted back. Ben was so red that if he opened his mouth wide enough he might be mistaken for a postbox. “WHAT?” cried Dad. “GIRLS!” shouted Mum. “I AM TALKING TO OUR SON ABOUT GIRLS!” “OH, RIGHT!” Dad shouted back. “I’LL TURN THE OVEN OFF.” “So, Ben, if you ever need to – ” BRING BRING. BRING BRING. It was Mum’s mobile phone going off in her pocket. “Sorry dear,” she said, placing the handset to her ear. “Gail, can I call you back? I am just talking to Ben about girls. OK, thanks, bub-bye.” She hung up the phone and turned to Ben. “Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, if you ever need to have a little chat with me about girls, then please do. You can trust me to be very discreet…” ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 17 Planning the Heist F or the first time in his life, Ben skipped to school the following morning. Through his love of plumbing, the previous night he had discovered that the Tower of London had a weakness. The most impregnable building in the world, where some of the country’s most dangerous criminals had been imprisoned and executed, had a fatal flaw; a large sewage pipe that led directly into the River Thames. That ancient tube would be his and Granny’s way in and out of the Tower! It was a quite brilliant plan, and Ben’s body couldn’t hide its excitement at this amazing discovery. That’s why he was skipping. Now he couldn’t wait until Friday night when his mum and dad would once again pack him off to Granny’s. Then he would be able to convince the old lady that together they really could steal the Crown Jewels. Ben would bring along the diagram in Plumbing Weekly of the Tower of London’s sewage system to show her. The two of them could stay up all night and work out every detail of the most daring robbery of all time. The problem was that a whole fat week of lessons and teachers and homework stood between now and Friday night. However, Ben was determined to use the week at school wisely. In his IT lesson, he looked up the Crown Jewels and memorised every detail on the web page. In History, he asked his teacher questions about the Tower of London and exactly where in the building the jewels were kept. (That would be the Jewel House, fact fans.)  In Geography, he found an atlas of the British Isles and pinpointed precisely where on the Thames the Tower is situated. In PE, he didn’t accidentally on purpose forget his kit like usual, instead he did extra press-ups so his arms would be strong enough to pull himself up the sewage pipe that led into the Tower. In Maths, he asked the teacher how many packets of Rolos you could buy with five billion pounds (which is what the Crown Jewels were said to be worth). Rolos were Ben’s absolute favourite sweets. The answer is ten billion packets, or twenty-four billion actual Rolos. That’s enough for a year at least. And Raj was sure to throw in a few extra packets for free. In his French class, Ben learned how to say, ‘I know nothing about the theft of, how you say, ‘the Crown Jewels’, I am but a poor French peasant boy’, in case he needed to pretend he was a poor French peasant boy in order to escape from the scene of the crime. In Spanish he learned to say, ‘I know nothing about, how you say, ‘the Crown Jewels’, I am but a poor Spanish peasant boy’, in case he needed to pretend he was a poor Spanish peasant boy in order to escape from the scene of the crime. In German he learned to say…well, I’m sure you get the idea. In Science, Ben quizzed his teacher about how you might be able to penetrate bulletproof glass. Even if you got into Jewel House, removing the jewels was not going to be easy, as they were kept behind glass that was inches thick. In his Art class, he made a detailed scale model of the Tower of London out of matches so he could role play the daring robbery in miniature. The week absolutely flew by, never had school been so much fun. Most importantly, for the first time in his life Ben couldn’t wait to spend time with his granny. By the end of school on Friday afternoon, Ben felt he had all the data he needed to put the daring plan into place. The story of the theft of the Crown Jewels would be on the TV news for weeks, on every website, and emblazoned across every front page of every newspaper in every country in the world. However, no one, but no one, would suspect that the thieves were in fact a little old lady and an eleven-year-old boy. They were going to get away with the crime of the century! ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧ 18 Visiting Hours “Y ou can’t stay with Granny tonight,” said Dad. It was four o’clock on Friday afternoon, and Ben had just got home from school. It was strange that Dad was home so early. He usually didn’t finish his shift at the supermarket until eight. “Why not?” asked Ben, noticing his dad’s face was dark with worry. “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, son.” “What?” demanded Ben, his face darkening with worry too. “Granny’s in hospital.” A little while later, once they’d finally found a parking space, Ben and his parents went through the automatic doors of the hospital. Ben wondered if Mum and Dad were ever going to find Granny in here. The hospital was impossibly tall and wide, a great monument to illness. There were lifts that took you to other lifts. Mile-long corridors. Signs everywhere that Ben couldn’t comprehend: CORONARY CARE UNIT RADIOLOGY OBSTETRICS CLINICAL DECISION UNIT MRI SCANNING ROOM Confused-looking patients on trolleys or in wheelchairs were being wheeled up and down by porters, as doctors and nurses who looked like they hadn’t been to bed for days, hurried past them. When they finally found the wing Granny was in, right up on the nineteenth floor, Ben didn’t recognise her at first.  Her hair was flat on her head, she didn’t have her glasses on or her teeth in, and she was wearing not her own clothes, but a standard issue NHS nightgown. It was as if all of the things that made her Granny had been taken from her, and she was now just a shell. Ben felt so sad to see her like this, but tried to hide it. He didn’t want to upset her. “Hello, dears,” she said. Her voice was croaky, and her speech a little slurred. Ben had to take a deep breath to stop from bursting into tears. “How are you feeling, Mum?” asked Ben’s dad. “Not too clever,” she replied. “I had a fall.” “A fall?” said Ben. “Yes. I don’t remember much about it. One moment I was reaching in the larder for a tin of cabbage soup, the next thing I knew I was lying on the lino staring at the ceiling. My cousin Edna called me a number of times from her nursing home. When she couldn’t get an answer, she called an ambulance.” “When did you fall over, Granny?” asked Ben. “Let me think, I was lying on the kitchen floor for two days, so it must have been Wednesday morning. I couldn’t get up to reach the telephone.” “I am so sorry, Mum,” said Dad quietly. Ben had never seen his father look so upset. “It’s funny, because I meant to call you on Wednesday, you know just for a chat, to see how you are,” said Mum, lying. She had never called the old lady in her life, and if Granny ever called the house Mum couldn’t get off the phone quick enough. “You weren’t to know, my dear,” said Granny. “They did all kinds of tests this morning to see what’s wrong with me; X-rays and scans and the like. I’ll get the results tomorrow. Hopefully I won’t be in here too long.” “I hope so too,” said Ben. There was an uncomfortable silence. No one quite knew what to say or do. Mum hesitantly nudged Dad and mimed looking at her watch. Ben knew hospitals made her uncomfortable. When he’d had his appendix out two years before she had only visited him a couple of times, and even then it had made her sweat and fidget.  “Well, we’d better be off,” said Dad. “Yes, yes, you go,” said Granny, with lightness in her voice but sadness in her eyes. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll be fine.” “Can’t we stay a bit longer?” piped up Ben. Mum shot him an anguished look, which Dad clocked. “No, come along, Ben, your granny will need to go to sleep in a few hours,” said Dad, as he stood up and readied himself to leave. “I’m quite busy, Mum, but I’ll try and pop in over the weekend.” He patted his mother on the head, like one might a dog. It was an awkward gesture; Dad wasn’t a hugger. He turned to go, Mum smiled weakly, and then pulled a reluctant Ben across the ward by his wrist. ♦ Up in his bedroom, later that evening, Ben determinedly sorted all the information he’d gathered from school that week. We’ll show them, Granny, he thought fiercely. I’m going to do it for you. Now Granny was ill he was more determined to do it than ever. He had until tea time to plan the greatest jewel theft in history. ∨ Gangsta Granny ∧