The Adventures of Nanny Piggins (5 page)

'Yes, that's right. I am Paul's missus and he asked me to drive you because his dentist had a sudden cancellation, so Paul rushed off to get some much needed root canal work.'

'Oh,' said the man. 'I didn't know he was having trouble with his teeth.'

'Paul doesn't complain about it. He's had a high pain threshold ever since he was shot fifteen times during the war.'

'I didn't know he was in the war either,' said the man.

Nanny Piggins realised she had better put an end to this line of fiction before she dug herself into a hole. 'He was ordered by the government not to talk about it for reasons of national security.'

'Right,' said the man. 'So why did you bring the kids to a job?'

'It's so hard to find affordable child care these days,' said Nanny Piggins. She knew this to be true because it was what Mr Green muttered every time he caught her doing something wrong. Which was quite a lot.

'Well, I reckon it's a stroke of genius bringing a car full of kids. Nobody will look twice at us. They'll think we're just out for a family drive,' said the man.

'We
are
just out for a family drive,' Nanny Piggins pointed out.

The man laughed. 'That's right. That's the story we'll tell them if we have to.'

'Would you like a sherbet lemon?' Samantha asked the man. She did not really want to give him one of her sweets but she knew that it was polite to share. And she did not want to go any longer without eating one herself. Besides, it was most disagreeable the way he was pointing his water pistol at Nanny Piggins and she thought if she gave him a lolly he might put the pistol down to open it.

'Ta, that's very kind,' said the man. 'Here, mind this for me.' He put the water pistol on the armrest and turned to look at the view out of the rear window. For some reason he was more interested in the view from the back of the car than he was of the view from the front. So Samantha simply closed the armrest, pushing it up into the seat and hiding the nasty water pistol from view.

'I think we lost them. You've done some good driving, sweetheart,' he complimented Nanny Piggins warmly. 'I've known some fast getaway drivers in my time. But you're the first one I've known who never touches the brakes.'

'I didn't know you could just touch the brakes,' admitted Nanny Piggins. 'I thought you just jammed on them as hard as you could when you wanted to stop.'

The man laughed. 'I like a girl with a sense of humour. Your Paul is a lucky man.'

But having said that, his pleasure with Nanny Piggins abruptly ended as the car engine began to splutter and die.

'What's going on?' the man demanded. 'Where's my gun?' he added as an afterthought.

But the man never got to find his gun. Regrettably for him, Nanny Piggins knew absolutely nothing about the internal combustion engine. As a result, the car coasted to a fuel-less halt right out the front of the local police station just as the police sergeant was stepping out onto the footpath to go to lunch.

And unfortunately for the man with the water pistol, the sergeant immediately recognised him as Billy McPhearson, the well-known bank robber and jewel thief.

'Well, well, well, what have we here then?' asked the sergeant as he grabbed Billy by the collar, before he could crawl over Samantha and make a quick exit from the car. 'You wouldn't have anything to do with the jewellery shop robbery on Bridge Street, would you?' This is the type of rhetorical question police officers ask all the time.

'We've just come from Bridge Street,' Derrick innocently informed them.

'Well, well, well, you've got some explaining to do, Billy. But first you had better hand over your gun. I know you always carry one,' said the sergeant.

'I don't have one on me. I swear on my mother's eyes!' exclaimed Billy.

'It's true,' said Samantha helpfully. 'Although he did give me his water pistol to mind.' For she believed it was tremendously important to be helpful to people in uniform. She pulled down the armrest and revealed the weapon.

'Thank you, young lady,' said the sergeant kindly. 'I'm surprised at you, Billy. You're losing your touch. Letting yourself be disarmed by a little girl.'

'I gave him a sherbet lemon to get him to put it down,' said Samantha truthfully.

'An interesting tactic, Miss,' said the kind sergeant. 'I'll have to suggest that next time they come to teach us hostage negotiating.'

* * *

And so it was only after three hours of questioning, when Nanny Piggins and the children were finally sent home, that they realised the enormity of what they had done.

'Who would have thought that we could catch an armed robber,' said Nanny Piggins in wonder.

'I never would have given him a sherbet lemon if I'd known he was a bad man,' said Samantha.

'If you hadn't given him the sherbet lemon, we all would have been killed in a shoot-out at the police station,' Derrick pointed out.

'So in a way . . .' said Nanny Piggins (this is how she started all her best excuses), '. . . taking the car and using your father's money to buy sweets saved our lives.'

'It did more than that,' protested Michael. 'It got an armed robber off the streets.'

'Good point,' said Nanny Piggins. 'And that's what we'll tell your father if he asks why there are so many dents and scratches on his car.'

'We'll say the armed robber made you drive badly at gunpoint,' suggested Derrick.

'Exactly. Now we've got our story straight. Let's really enjoy this chocolate.'

So Nanny Piggins and the children ate sweets and raced cockroaches, truly satisfied that they had done a good day's work.

Mr Green Asks a Small Favour (Then Immediately Regrets It)

It was seven o'clock at night and Nanny Piggins and the children were down in the cellar, happily using the late Mrs Green's power tools to make a rat trap. They wanted to catch a rat because Derrick had been humiliated in front of his class for getting seventeen spelling mistakes in a twenty-five-word spelling test. And Nanny Piggins was determined to get revenge on Mrs Anderson, his nasty English teacher, by putting a rat in her handbag.

The only thing was that Nanny Piggins had never used power tools before and it was only after they had got them all out and started using them, that she and the children discovered just how much fun they were. Sawdust and wood shavings were sent flying everywhere. Nanny Piggins and the children had completely destroyed their first batch of timber and were busily trying out the circular saw on one of the antique chairs from the dining room, when Mr Green caught their attention by loudly saying, 'Excuse me.'

They turned to see Mr Green standing on the cellar steps, immaculately dressed in a tuxedo. He even had a fresh carnation in his button hole. Fortunately, the antique dining chair was now unrecognisable as ever having been a piece of furniture. So Nanny Piggins knew, unless he had just been in the dining room counting the chairs, he could not be angry about that.

'Um, Nanny Piggins, I–um . . . how are you?' asked Mr Green.

Nanny Piggins immediately knew he wanted something. Mr Green never went to the trouble of remembering her name unless he really wanted something. He usually never spoke to her at all. He just skulked in or out of the house without making eye contact. Nanny Piggins briefly considered running away but then it occurred to her that Mr Green wanting something could possibly be used to her advantage so, instead, she played along.

'I am very well, Mr Green, and how are you?' she asked

'Good, good, a touch of thrombosis you know, but I can't complain,' said Mr Green, complaining. It never occurred to him that Nanny Piggins could not care less how he was at all.

'I do, however, have a slight social difficulty,' began Mr Green.

'Oh dear,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Is it your teeth?'

'My teeth?'

'Nothing. Do go on,' said Nanny Piggins.

'Yes, indeed,' said Mr Green. 'You see, the thing is . . .' began Mr Green again. For he was very bad at getting out information when he did not have the upper hand. As a lawyer, he almost always had the upper hand. He was usually either telling his clients offor telling other people offon behalf of his clients. He did not often have to ask for something so he was not very good at it.

'The thing is . . .' he repeated. Even though he was asking Nanny Piggins for something, it did not occur to him that it would be more polite not to waste her time, '. . . my law firm is having their annual dinner tonight.'

'That's nice,' said Nanny Piggins, although she secretly thought it would be the exact opposite. A room full of lawyers and lawyers' wives. She could not imagine anything more boring. As a former flying pig, conversations about managed funds and the best place to buy napkin rings were not Nanny Piggins' idea of excitement. And to have to eat dinner with such people would even take the pleasure out of the meal. Which was really saying something because Nanny Piggins was a pig. So if you think about how much you enjoy eating, then multiply that by a thousand, then add six, then times that by two and then do not eat for a week so you will be really hungry, you will begin to appreciate how much pigs enjoy eating.

'The trouble is . . .' Mr Green continued, 'I was supposed to be going to this, er . . . dinner with Mrs Havershaw.'

'Oh dear,' Nanny Piggins shuddered. 'You poor man.'

Mrs Havershaw would have fitted right in. Last time Mrs Havershaw had cornered her, Nanny Piggins had thought she was going to slip into a coma. Mrs Havershaw spent forty-five minutes droning on and on about her dahlias. It was fifteen minutes before Nanny Piggins realised dahlias were flowers.

'But she's just rung me and said that she can't come. Something about falling down a staircase and breaking both her legs,' explained Mr Green.

'Really?' said Nanny Piggins. She secretly suspected that Mrs Havershaw had come to her senses and thrown herself down that staircase, having decided that two broken legs was better than being bored to death by a bunch of lawyers.

'So I was wondering if you . . .' Mr Green paused here, clearly hoping Nanny Piggins would add two and two together and realise what he was getting at. Nanny Piggins did realise what he was getting at, but she wanted him to say it himself because she enjoyed watching Mr Green squirm.

'If I would break her arms as well?' suggested Nanny Piggins.

'If you would, in Mrs Havershaw's place, be so good as to come with me to this, er . . . dinner,' stammered Mr Green awkwardly.

Now you have to understand, Mr Green was already wearing his tuxedo, the carnation was already in his button hole and it was already seven o'clock at night. He was clearly desperate. Nanny Piggins knew he had only hired her, a pig, to look after his children because he could not get anyone else. So to be asking her, a pig, to his firm's annual dinner, was really scraping the bottom of the barrel.

'Don't do it,' Samantha whispered out of the side of her mouth.

'Don't do it,' Michael said, out the front of his.

Nanny Piggins did not need telling. She knew she did not want to go to the dinner. But she was interested to see what Mr Green would use to try to bribe her.

'What will you give me if I agree to go with you?' asked Nanny Piggins.

'Well, I rather thought you would agree as a favour, a matter of kindness, you know . . .' Mr Green always took ten times longer than necessary to say the simplest things. It was a trick lawyers used to bore people senseless, then make them sign things they should not.

So Nanny Piggins interrupted him. 'I am not accompanying you anywhere as an act of kindness. If you want me to go with you, you will have to make it worth my while.'

'I might remind you that you are my employee and, as such –' went on Mr Green.

Nanny Piggins interrupted him again. She did not want to waste all night. If she was not going, she would rather get back to her circular-sawing.

'Mr Green, it is precisely because I am your employee that it is entirely inappropriate for you to be asking me out on a date. I could sue you for harassment for even suggesting it. And call the three children to act as witnesses.'

'Harassing a nanny, and a pig,' said Derrick, shaking his head sadly. 'Imagine how bad that would look in the papers.'

Mr Green swelled up like a bullfrog and went bright red in the face as he struggled to think how best to refute this allegation. 'I never . . . To even suggest . . .'

'We all heard you ask her out, Father,' said Derrick. He liked seeing his father squirm. He still had not forgiven his father for only giving him books for Christmas.

Samantha and Michael nodded their agreement. They did not particularly like their father either. I know it is shocking to suggest that three healthy young children should not like their own father. But you must remember that they had very little to do with him. They barely saw him at all. And since they did not have enough money to afford a DNA test, they were not even entirely sure he
was
their father. In fact, they secretly hoped he was not and that there had simply been three terrible clerical errors at the hospital.

'Yes, well, I can see that perhaps it would be better to make it a business transaction,' said Mr Green, realising that buying Nanny Piggins off was probably the simplest way out. 'What would you like?'

'What are you prepared to give me?' asked Nanny Piggins as she tried to gauge how much she could gouge him for.

'I don't know. A little trinket? Some jewellery perhaps? Flowers? Or maybe a new dress?'

Nanny Piggins wrinkled her snout. 'You'll have to do better than that!'

'What could be better than that?' asked Mr Green. All the women he knew would cut offtheir right arm for some jewellery. They would cut half a dozen other people's arms offas well if they had to. Nanny Piggins had him baffled. 'What could you possibly want? Cash? Or perhaps a savings bond?'

'You can't buy me offthat easily,' protested Nanny Piggins haughtily.

Mr Green mopped his brow. He was beginning to be a bit frightened of his nanny. 'Well, what is it you want?' he asked.

'I want an extra large chocolate mud cake,' said Nanny Piggins boldly. 'Like the one in the window of the baker's shop.'

'Is that all?' said Mr Green, considerably relieved.

'And I want written on top, in pink icing, "To Nanny Piggins, thank you so much. I am eternally grateful for everything you've done. Yours Sincerely, Mr Green".'

'It would have to be extremely small writing,' said Mr Green.

'Or an extremely large cake,' countered Nanny Piggins.

'Hmm . . . I see. I think I can arrange that,' said Mr Green.

'Then you've got a deal,' said Nanny Piggins, holding out her trotter for Mr Green to shake. 'As soon as I've heard you ring the order through to the baker with your credit card number – and don't try giving him a false one because I have it memorised – I'll go and get changed.'

She knew Mr Green would have no scruples about trying to get out of his side of the deal. Being a lawyer, he was professionally required to be morally bankrupt.

* * *

Mr Green had never understood why it took women so long to get dressed. This is because he was a very silly man of limited imagination. Applying make-up is essentially painting on your face. And it would be foolish to rush painting on your face, especially when you are going out to an important dinner.

Nanny Piggins was an accomplished show business performer, so she knew that getting dressed was not a matter to be taken lightly. She was in the bathroom for a good hour and a half, using heating devices on her hair and applying a variety of creams, powders and pastes to her face in exactly the right quantities.

Meanwhile, Mr Green waited at the bottom of the stairs having a nervous breakdown. The dinner was supposed to start at eight o'clock. And he was already half an hour late. You have to understand, Mr Green was fifty-one years old and he had never been late to anything before. Apart from when his wife was giving birth to Derrick and he promised to be there to be supportive. He was nine hours late that day, missing the whole birth entirely. But he'd had an emergency at the office. There had been a jam in the photocopier, and so he thought his absence was entirely justified.

He preferred to turn up to everything early so he could be mean to people who were late, or even just on time. So he had no idea how his bosses were going to respond to him being late for the company dinner.

When he heard his children yelling, 'She's coming, she's coming!', he was already transported into a state of euphoria, even before he looked up to see the amazing vision of loveliness at the top of the stairs.

You do not get fired out of a cannon for years without learning a thing or two about catching the eye. Nanny Piggins knew how to make herself a sight to behold. She wore a long, flowing silver sequined gown that seemed to reflect back every light in the house tenfold. She also looked taller, partly because her hair was painstakingly coiffured perpendicular to her head in every direction. And partly because she was wearing a dozen long peacock feathers strapped in a band around her scalp.

And some mention must be made of her face, because it was truly impressive. She had blotted out every trace of her natural features using pig-toned make-up and then redrawn all her features so that they looked slightly prettier than they had looked before. The effect was disconcerting and yet attractive.

Mr Green had never seen a more beautiful-looking pig. 'Why, Nanny Piggins, you look . . .'

But Nanny Piggins interrupted him. 'A-a-ah, Mr Green. Remember I still haven't completely abandoned the idea of suing you for harassment, so you had better not say anything that might incriminate yourself.'

Mr Green nodded, seeing the wisdom in this statement. He then led Nanny Piggins to the door. Nanny Piggins turned to speak to the children before she went out.

'You look beautiful,' Samantha told her.

'I know,' agreed Nanny Piggins. 'Beauty has been a lifelong burden of mine. Even butchers sigh when I pass, but that's beside the point. You three are going to have the house to yourself all evening. So be sure you make good use of the time. I expect the house to be a mess and at least one piece of furniture to be broken by the time we get back. And if you are not still awake when we get home I shall be bitterly disappointed in you all. So enjoy yourselves and have as much fun as possible while we're gone.' With that, Nanny Piggins kissed them each good bye before disappearing into the night with their father.

'Do you think she will be all right?' Samantha asked Derrick.

'She'll be all right. It's Father who's in for it,' said Derrick because, when all was said and done, he was the oldest and the wisest.

* * *

By the time they got to the dinner, Mr Green and Nanny Piggins were one hour and five minutes late. And yet Mr Green still paused before entering the banquet hall to give Nanny Piggins last minute instructions on how to behave. 'Now, er . . . Miss Piggins,' he said, 'there will be some very important people present at the dinner this evening.'

Nanny Piggins just rolled her eyes.

'The senior partners for example shall all be in attendance. Isabella Dunkhurst, in particular, is a woman who is – how can I put this – frightening. So you had best not talk to her. Or indeed anyone. If you could remain completely silent for the next three hours that would probably be the best approach,' concluded Mr Green.

'The deal was that I got the mud cake if I came. You didn't say anything about me having to behave,' said Nanny Piggins.

'Well, I thought that was obviously an implied part of the deal,' began Mr Green.

'Tsk, tsk, Mr Green,' said Nanny Piggins. 'A lawyer should know better than to assume something is implied. You should have included it in the small print of our deal. It's too late now.' With that Nanny Piggins switched on the flashing fairy lights in her headdress, brushed past Mr Green and walked into the banquet hall. She was too hungry to stand around getting lessons in manners.