The Adventures of Nanny Piggins PDF

 Table of Contents About the Author Title Page Copyright Page Dedication CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 Nanny Piggins and the Wicked Plan You are about to read a wonderful book. Nanny Piggins is...

 Table of Contents About the Author Title Page Copyright Page Dedication CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2 CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 CHAPTER 5 CHAPTER 6 CHAPTER 7 CHAPTER 8 CHAPTER 9 CHAPTER 10 CHAPTER 11 CHAPTER 12 Nanny Piggins and the Wicked Plan You are about to read a wonderful book. Nanny Piggins is the most amazing pig ever. It has been a privilege to write about her. But before you begin I must (because the publisher has forced me) give you one small warning... Unless you are a pig, do not copy Nanny Piggins' diet IN ANY WAY. You see, pigs and humans have very different bodies. Pigs are a different shape for a start (mainly because they eat so much). Plus, Nanny Piggins is an elite athlete so she has a freakishly fast metabolism that can burn a lot of calories. So please, for the good of your own health, do not try to eat like Nanny Piggins. There is no doubt that chocolate, cake, biscuits, tarts, chocolate milk, sticky cream buns, lollies, ice-cream, lollipops, sherbet lemons and choc-chip pancakes are all delicious but that does not mean you should eat them seven or eight times a day. Also, you really must eat vegetables, no matter what Nanny Piggins might say to the contrary, or you will get sick. Yours sincerely, R. A. Spratt, the author The Adventures of Nanny Piggins R. A. Spratt  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. The Adventures of Nanny Piggins ePub ISBN 9781864714210 Kindle ISBN 9781864716481 Original Print Edition A Random House book Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW 2060 www.randomhouse.com.au First published by Random House Australia in 2009 Copyright © R. A. Spratt 2009 The moral right of the author has been asserted. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au/offices National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry Author: Spratt, R. A. Title: The adventures of Nanny Piggins ISBN: 9781741663167 Series: Spratt, R. A. Nanny Piggins; 1. Target Audience: For primary school age Dewey Number: A823.4 Cover illustration by Gypsy Taylor Cover design, internal design and internal illustrations by Jobi Murphy Typeset in Adobe Garamond by Midland Typesetters, Australia Printed and bound by Griffin Press, South Australia To Angus  CHAPTER 1 Nanny Piggins and her Dramatic Entrance Mr Green desperately needed to find a new nanny for his children. In the four weeks since their last nanny left, he found himself actually having to talk to them, provide them with meals and pay attention to them himself. And all this just had to stop. He had a job at a law firm helping rich people avoid paying their taxes. He could not be expected to look after his children as well. The reason Mrs Green did not look after the children was because she was not there. Mr Green said she had died in a boating accident. But the children were not entirely sure this was true. Yes, there had been a funeral. Yes, there had been an obituary in the paper. But people on television programs died all the time and that never stopped them from coming back in the next series. So they had not totally given up hope that their mother had just got fed up with their father, which was a sentiment they could fully understand. There were three Green children. The eldest, Derrick, was a fit boy of eleven. He was always sun-tanned or muddy. Either way, he always looked brown. And he always had long messy hair but never went to the barber because the only time his father ever spoke to him was to yell, 'Go and get your hair cut! You look like a scruffbag!' The second child, Samantha, was a girl. And, as such, had even fewer conversations with her father than Derrick. She was a nice girl and pretty enough, but not so much so as to cause a fuss. Her chief characteristic was that she worried all the time. To be fair, she did have a lot to worry about. Girls whose mothers have drowned in boating accidents would be foolish not to worry. The third child, Michael, was only seven but, in many ways, he was the most confident. He could not remember his mother at all. So he was not saddened or worried about her loss. Derrick and Samantha bore the brunt of having to deal with Mr Green. So Michael was able to get on with his life unhindered. As a result he was a little on the tubby side. Because Michael's favourite hobby was stealing food from the kitchen, then sitting and eating it under a bush in the garden. On the whole they were three well-mannered, largely self-sufficient children. And they would have been a doddle for anyone to take care of. Mr Green should have found a nanny in half a second flat. But there was a problem. Not only did Mr Green believe that rich people should not pay taxes. He also believed that he, personally, should not have to pay for anything. He begrudged giving money to a nanny. In his opinion child care should be entirely government provided. Paid for out of the taxes his clients never paid. But even more than that, Mr Green deeply resented the idea that he had to pay to advertise for a nanny. There was so much unemployment in the world that, in his opinion, nannies should be beating down his door. So despite the fact that he desperately wanted a nanny, he did not have one because he was too cheap to put an advertisement in a newspaper. All Mr Green had done was paint a sign himself with the words NANNY WANTED ? ENQUIRE WITHIN, attach it to a stake and bang it into the front lawn. So far the sign had sat there for three weeks without a single knock at the door. And now the pressure was really on. One of the neighbours, having watched Michael sitting under a bush eating frozen pizza (that was still frozen), had reported this to the government. And a social worker had arrived to inspect all three children. She then made an appointment to see Mr Green (because he was, of course, at work when she visited) and threatened him. She told him that if he continued to leave his children unattended for ten or twelve hours at a time, they would be taken away and put into government care. Now Mr Green would have liked nothing more than to have his children taken away. If that happened, then he would not have to go home at all. He could spend all his time at the office, happily reading tax laws, without giving his offspring a second thought. But Mr Green knew that if his children were taken away from him it would look very bad indeed. (People did not think much of him as it was, what with him being a tax lawyer, and him not paying attention when his wife fell offthe boat.) It would damage him professionally if the story got in the papers. So it is at this point that our story begins – Mr Green was so desperate to hire a nanny that he was actually considering paying to advertise, when this painful thought was interrupted by a loud knock at the front door. It was a dark and stormy night. Rain was teeming down. As Mr Green opened the door he could not clearly see the person in front of him, silhouetted by the streetlight. But he could tell from the shape that the person was wearing a dress. So he assumed it was a woman. And he assumed she must have come about the position of nanny. Mr Green was flooded with relief. 'Come in, come in,' he beckoned. As the new nanny stepped into the house, the light hit her and Mr Green could see her clearly for the first time. She wore a simple blue dress with a drop waist and jaunty little jacket. And she was only 4 foot tall. But Mr Green soon forgot about her lack of height when he saw that she had a much more shocking feature. The woman was not a woman. She was a pig. A common, pink, farm pig. The type bacon came from. 'Good evening, I am Nanny Piggins,' said Nanny Piggins the pig. 'Huh?' said Mr Green. 'I have come to apply for the position of nanny,' she explained.  'Well...' spluttered Mr Green, buying time as his mind raced, and he tried to figure out what to do, 'Well, um, that's very good. But um... I wonder if you're quite suitable, you see.' 'I can start immediately,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Oh,' said Mr Green, he could not deny this would be convenient. 'I have no criminal record,' said Nanny Piggins. 'That is good,' said Mr Green, he could not deny this would please the social worker. 'But I expect to be paid properly,' stated Nanny Piggins. 'Now that might be a difficulty,' interrupted Mr Green. Here he saw he had the perfect excuse for not hiring the pig. 'I charge ten cents an hour,' Nanny Piggins declared boldly. 'You're hired!' exclaimed Mr Green without even thinking. He knew a bargain when he heard one. 'I'll be frank, Nanny Piggins, I would prefer not to have a pig take care of my children. But I am prepared to offer you the job until a suitable human nanny presents herself.' 'Very well,' said Nanny Piggins. 'I think you will find human nannies are terribly overrated. Th ey are, in my experience, very greedy and not terribly clean. But I shall agree to your terms. Because it is wet outside and I do not have an umbrella.' So Mr Green and Nanny Piggins shook hands on it. Then Mr Green immediately fled out of the house, to return to his office in the city, where he could read the tax laws in peace. Leaving Nanny Piggins to acquaint herself with the children. Derrick, Samantha and Michael stared at Nanny Piggins with their mouths agape. It had never occurred to them that their father might leave them in the care of a pig, no matter how well she was dressed. 'Hello, children, my name is Sarah Piggins and I am to be your new nanny.'  'I'm Derrick,' said Derrick. 'I'm Samantha,' said Samantha. 'And I'm Michael,' said Michael. 'Derrick, Samantha and Michael. I shall try my best to remember that,' Nanny Piggins assured them. The children stared at her and she stared at them for several long moments before Nanny Piggins cleared her throat and asked, 'So what's supposed to happen now?' 'This is the part where you tell us what you expect of us,' Derrick told her. He was quite an experienced hand, having had eleven different nannies in his time. 'Oh, I didn't realise I was meant to have expectations so early in the piece. Give me a moment to think of some,' said Nanny Piggins. The children watched her as she thought for a few seconds. 'Okay, I'm ready,' she announced. 'Well, children, you need not tell your father this, but I will admit I have never been a nanny before. My only previous job experience was as a flying pig in a circus. Which, I am proud to say, I was very good at. And I don't suppose that nannying can be any harder than being blasted out of a cannon. So I shouldn't be surprised if I turn out to be very good at this too.' The children stared at Nanny Piggins in awe. They did not know what to think. They were astounded that she was a pig. But a flying pig? A flying pig who had no idea how to be a nanny? Th ey must be the luckiest children in the world. It was Nanny Piggins who interrupted their joyful thoughts. 'So I've told you my expectations. What am I supposed to do next?' she asked. The children considered all the things their father would have suggested. 'Well, you could tell us to go and tidy our rooms,' suggested Derrick.  'Or instruct us to take a bath,' added Samantha. 'Or order us to shut our mouths if we knew what was good for us,' said Michael. 'Oh,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Well, you can do that if you like. But I'm going to go to the kitchen and go through all the cupboards looking for things that contain sugar. Then eat as much as I can until I feel sick. You can join me if you like.' And they did. The children soon fell deeply in love with their new nanny. She let them stay up half the night watching violent movies. Then let them sleep in her bed the other half the night when they had terrible nightmares. She let them eat chocolate not only before and after breakfast but instead of breakfast as well. As far as they were concerned she was the best nanny ever in the entire world. The only cloud on their horizon was the NANNY WANTED sign in the front garden. For their father still held out the hope that he would eventually be able to upgrade to a human nanny. And the children lived in dread fear of that day.  CHAPTER 2 Nanny Piggins and the Best Day Ever Nanny Piggins was sitting at the breakfast table reading a rather thrilling romance novel. She encouraged all the children to read trashy literature at the dining table because it kept them quiet. And she had discovered that no matter what they might say to the contrary, adults like their children quiet, much more than they like them to have pure minds. She was just getting to a good bit (This is the best thing about a thrilling romance – there is a good bit on every page, sometimes two good bits) when her daydream was interrupted by Mr Green coughing. Not the cough of someone with an illness. But the cough of someone who wants to speak but does not know how to start. So Nanny Piggins stuck a slice of toast in her book to mark the page and waited to hear what he had to say. 'Nanny Piggins, I believe the children are due to start back at school tomorrow,' said Mr Green. Nanny Piggins knew absolutely nothing about this but she cunningly hid her ignorance with the guarded reply, 'Yes.' 'They'll be needing new uniforms and equipment, I suppose,' he went on. Again Nanny Piggins found herself wildly out of her depth. Being a pig, she had never attended school herself. So she had no idea how you needed to equip yourself. She cleverly encouraged Mr Green to give more information by simply saying, 'I suppose.'  Mr Green had obviously given a lot of thought to the next speech because it came out very suddenly and precisely. 'Well, I'll give you $500 to sort it out. If you need any more, let me know.' And with that he took a white envelope out of his suit pocket and placed it on the table. All the children's eyes were fixed on the envelope, as indeed were Nanny Piggins'. Th e conversation was becoming stranger and stranger. She did not want to reveal her ignorance but it was getting ridiculous. She needed to understand what was going on. 'What is this?' she asked politely, nodding towards the envelope. 'The money, of course,' said Mr Green, as he was getting up. 'Of course,' agreed Nanny Piggins, pretending to be knowledgeable. Nodding her head as though she found it perfectly natural that Mr Green should hide cash inside an envelope, as if it were too shameful to be seen by daylight. 'I will be home late tonight. I trust you will be all right with the children?' he said. Even though Mr Green paid Nanny Piggins to be his nanny, he still could not entirely convince himself that she was willing to spend long periods of time with his family. He was relieved to hear Nanny Piggins' willing 'Oh, yes.' It meant he could enjoy his dinner sitting at his desk, where it was quiet and peaceful and he could bill his time to a client as he ate. Nanny Piggins and the children waited until they heard Mr Green close the front door behind him before they rushed into a huddle around the envelope. They all wanted to see the cash, so Nanny Piggins lovingly removed it from the envelope. The money was in the form of five crisp $100 notes. Nanny Piggins became quite misty-eyed, the notes were so beautiful to behold. 'What a lovely lot of money!' she exclaimed. 'Uniforms are ridiculously overpriced,' explained Derrick. 'They can charge what they like because they know you have to buy them.'  'You do?' asked Nanny Piggins. This was news to her. 'But what are these "uny-forums" exactly?' 'Didn't you ever have to wear one in the circus?' asked Samantha, feeling both surprised and envious. 'I've never even heard of them before,' Nanny Piggins assured her. 'They are horrible, uncomfortable clothes that you have to wear every day so that you match everybody else and nobody looks different,' explained Michael. 'Oh.' This was a concept Nanny Piggins understood. 'You mean like costumes?' 'Sort of,' agreed Samantha. 'Except they are always made in the dullest colours and the ugliest shapes, so that everyone looks as unattractive as possible.' 'But why? Wouldn't it be better to look fabulous?' asked Nanny Piggins. That was certainly the object of all the costumes she had ever worn. 'Oh no,' explained Michael. 'People like children to look awful. Because it makes them pleased that they're not children anymore'. 'It seems terribly cruel,' Nanny Piggins muttered. Humans baffled her. They always talked about how they just wanted their children to be happy. Th en they seemed to devise endless systems and schedules to ensure that they were not. 'And you have to wear these "uny-things" to school?' Nanny Piggins asked. She was trying to get all this new information as straight in her head as possible. 'That's right,' said Derrick. Nanny Piggins could not hide the full extent of her ignorance any further. She had another question to ask. 'So, what exactly is school? Exactly.' 'What's school?!' exclaimed Derrick. 'Did you never have to go?'  He could not believe anybody as clearly knowledgeable about so many important things, such as how to make fake blood and what was the best type of stick for making a slingshot, could have had no formal education. 'No, you never have to do anything at the circus,' explained Nanny Piggins. 'That's the whole reason people run away there. To escape tyranny.' 'So you could just eat chocolate? Every meal of the day?!' asked Michael, hardly believing his ears. 'Of course,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Many do. Particularly bearded ladies.' 'Well, we have to go to school,' explained Sam antha. 'How often?' asked Nanny Piggins, imagining that it must be an institution used only for occasional punishment, only when children were caught being utterly wicked. 'We have to go every day,' Michael told her. 'What? How monstrously cruel. Every single day?!' she exclaimed. 'Well, from Monday to Friday,' Derrick admitted honestly. 'But still,' exclaimed Nanny Piggins. 'They force you to go! Even on sunny days when the weather is perfect for picnics?' 'Even then,' the children regretfully assured her. 'And even on rainy days when the weather is perfect for going to the cinema?' asked Nanny Piggins disbelievingly. 'Then too,' the children added sadly. 'That sounds so terribly undemocratic,' said Nanny Piggins. She was deeply shocked. 'I thought we fought wars against dictators to prevent these sorts of things? Isn't this exactly why the French cut the heads off all their kings and queens?'  The children's knowledge of history was even less precise than Nanny Piggins', but they were happy to agree with someone so sympathetic on this point. 'We thought so.' 'But who came up with such a mean-spirited idea?' asked Nanny Piggins. She was becoming increasingly horrified by the widely accepted brutality of universal education. 'The government,' Derrick informed her. 'Of course, I might have known,' said Nanny Piggins. 'All the greatest psychopaths and evil villains end up in politics. If the government is behind it I suppose there is nothing that can be done.' 'I'm afraid not,' agreed Derrick. 'They do seem to ruin everything,' added Samantha. 'But still,' said Nanny Piggins, thoughtfully eyeing the lovely cash on the table, 'I find it hard to believe that it will cost a whole $500 to buy three uniforms.' 'We need equipment too,' Samantha reminded her. Samantha wanted a share in $500 pocket money as much as any sane girl. But she was also tremendously afraid of teachers, especially new teachers, and especially afraid of what a new teacher might say to a girl who had no pens or paper to write with. 'What sort of equipment?' asked Nanny Piggins absentmindedly. Her brain was already turning over much more interesting possibilities for their newfound windfall. 'We need pens and exercise books,' explained Samantha. 'And I need a geometry set,' added Derrick. In truth, he had no idea whether he would be studying geometry or not. But he was sure that if Barry Nichols was in his class he would like a compass. For self- defence as well as drawing circles. 'Yes, yes, we can get that later. But I'm sure the bulk of this can be invested in something more worthwhile,' said Nanny Piggins.  *** Happily, as it turned out, Nanny Piggins' idea of a good investment was to buy four tickets to an amusement park. The children had the most wonderful day. They went on all sorts of terrifying rides. On some they were flung high into the air until they were convinced they were going to die. And on others they were spun around and around until they were utterly sick. In fact, Michael was sick. Fortunately the ride was going at full speed at the time and the vomit flew cleanly out of his mouth and onto the face of the person behind him. So Nanny Piggins did not have to trouble herself with cleaning up his clothes. And at lunchtime Nanny Piggins bought them lunch, right there in the park, even though the prices were ludicrously overblown. Nanny Piggins actually let them have hot dogs and hamburgers, and four cups of soft drink each. It was pure joy. Mr Green would have dropped dead of apoplexy if he ever found out they did not take their own sandwiches. It was a wonderful day. But, regrettably, this won derfulness had come at a price. By mid-afternoon the $500 had been reduced to $89. Samantha had enjoyed the fun park every bit as much as the boys but, seeing the modest collections of notes and coins now stored in the dignity of the envelope, she was feeling the first symptoms of panic. 'I don't see how we can buy three uniforms for $89,' she worried. 'Let alone equipment.' Nanny Piggins was busy savouring her third helping of fairy floss and she was not going to let such practical concerns ruin her sugary bliss. 'I'm sure we will think of something,' she told Samantha optimistically. Then, remembering that she was the nanny and if she wanted to keep her job, she had better put some effort into it, she decided to get a sense of the enormity of the problem before her. 'So what exactly does a uniform consist of?' she asked.  The apparently complete level of their Nanny's ignorance was beginning to scare Samantha more and more. 'Well, the boys must wear grey trousers and shirts.' This caught Nanny Piggins' attention. She sat bolt upright immediately. 'But grey isn't Derrick's colour at all!' argued Nanny Piggins, bewildered that neither the government nor the school had sense enough to realise this. 'That doesn't matter. All the boys have to wear the same,' Michael explained. 'How brutal,' Nanny Piggins shuddered. 'I'm almost afraid to ask what the girls are forced to wear.' 'We have to wear a dark green tartan dress,' said Samantha. 'Tartan? What? You mean, you have to dress up as if you were Scottish?' Nanny Piggins asked dis believingly. 'Well, yes,' admitted Samantha. 'How very strange you humans are,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Nevertheless,' she added bracingly, 'I suppose we have to go along with it to keep your father happy.' 'And the government from coming to get us,' added Derrick. 'That too,' agreed Nanny Piggins. 'The less we upset the government, the better.' She knew this from personal experience but that is another story that will take up at least another whole chapter on its own, so we will not get sidetracked by it now. 'Let's go to the shops. I'm sure I can easily put together some grey clothes and a Scottish dress and still have money left over for chocolate.' 'You are?' Samantha was relieved to hear this. 'Oh yes, they might not have forced me to go to school. But they did teach me a thing or two at the circus.' *** At the shop Nanny Piggins' eye was immediately drawn to a display of huge bars of milk chocolate. The bars were exactly like regular bars of chocolate except that they were enormous. This was an extremely attractive characteristic as far as Nanny Piggins was concerned. She and the children stood and looked at them for some time, occasionally picking them up to gauge just how heavy they were. Nanny Piggins saw that such large portions of chocolate had great potential. Like the amusement-park tickets, she felt these would make excellent investments. After all, she was supposed to be making lasagna for dinner. If the children had half a kilo of chocolate each beforehand, there was a good chance they would not want any dinner at all. Which would mean she could watch television instead of cooking. 'I think we should buy these,' she told the children. 'But what about our uniforms?' Derrick said. He too was beginning to have visions of angry teachers the next day. 'The chocolate bars cost $12 each.' 'But they are on sale, reduced from $15. It would be a false economy not to buy them,' Nanny Piggins argued. 'But then you would only have $31 to buy three uniforms,' said Samantha, as she quickly did sums in her head. 'And equipment,' Michael reminded her. 'Pish,' said Nanny Piggins. 'I'm the nanny. I make the decisions.' She was pulling rank because she could smell the chocolate through the wrapping. 'That's more than enough to make grey clothes and an ugly dress.' And so she lifted four of the great big bars into her trolley. 'Now, let's get the equipment.' After a geometry set, three biros and a twelve-pack of exercise books had been thrown into the trolley, there was only $19 left of their budget. 'What are we going to do now?' wailed Samantha. 'We won't have anything to wear to school on Monday. It's just like in my nightmare. I'll have to wear my pyjamas to class.' Poor Samantha actually started crying. 'Just let me think,' Nanny Piggins muttered as she thoughtfully rubbed her snout. The children fell silent, genuinely hoping that her nose would hold a magical solution to their dilemma. Seconds and then minutes stretched by, and Nanny Piggins still rubbed her snout. Just when Samantha was about to give up hope and curl up in a ball on the floor, Nanny Piggins suddenly shouted, 'I've got it!' 'What?' asked Michael. 'Fetch me some grey dye and the ugliest dress in the store,' ordered Nanny Piggins. The children had no idea what she had in mind, but they dutifully leapt into action. Derrick went to fetch the dye, while Michael and Samantha scurried offto look at women's clothes. Later that night, after their three-course meal of chocolate, chocolate and more chocolate, Nanny Piggins set to work making the uniforms. She took Michael and Derrick's best trousers and shirts and set them to soak in a tub of ugly grey liquid. The tan trousers and blue shirts quickly absorbed the dye. Samantha's uniform was more tricky to mimic. They had not found an ugly green dress, but they had found an ugly pink one. The type of dress that cleaning ladies wear, which has a zipper up the front. She and the children then spent the rest of the evening converting it into a school uniform by colouring it in with wax crayons. The tartan of Samantha's uniform was a complicated pattern of wide green and blue stripes highlighted with thin lines of white and yellow. Fortunately Derrick, Samantha and Michael were all very gifted at colouring between the lines, and they made slow but steady progress. When they stopped for a chocolate break at eleven o'clock, three hours after good children usually go to bed, it was almost done. It looked so good, even Samantha stopped worrying. Although that may have had something to do with the fact that she was half-mad from eating so much chocolate. 'Well, children. I think we have had an excellent day. It is a shame your father does not give me $500 to buy uniforms more often,' declared Nanny Piggins. The children only nodded their agreement, as their mouths were too stuffed full of chocolate to speak. The next morning the children went to school. On close inspection, their uniforms did look slightly different. But the teachers did not notice. The homemade uniforms were ugly and, since they were just as ugly as all the other children's uniforms, there was nothing to make them stand out. This meant that Derrick, Samantha and Michael passed through their morning lessons without comment. Apart from Barry Nichols, who said to Derrick, 'Nice geometry set.' But sadly, at little lunch, things went terribly wrong. It was an extremely hot day. And, as it clearly says on the side of every box of wax crayons, 'crayons should be stored out of the sun'. And Samantha did not consider the full implications of the manufacturer's warning before agreeing to prove to Michelle Bampton that she was the world's greatest unco at handball. Five minutes into their gruelling match Samantha felt something trickle down her leg. At first she assumed it was sweat. But when Michelle stopped playing mid-point to stare at her, Samantha looked down and realised her uniform was melting. 'Why is your dress turning pink?' Michelle asked stupidly. For pink bits were indeed beginning to reappear where the molten crayon had rubbed away. This was bad. Samantha knew she had to do something. But what? Her mind raced as she hastily tried to think of an exit strategy. She had barely asked herself the question, 'What would Nanny Piggins do?' when the unnaturally deep voice of their deputy headmistress, Miss Bellows, boomed out behind her. 'What has happened to your uniform?' Samantha felt like she was stuck in quicksand in a Tarzan movie. She was trapped and there was nothing she could do except hope that someone would come along to save her. Meanwhile, the boys, oblivious to their sister's dilemma, had chosen to relieve the heat the way all thoughtless little boys do, by engaging in a water fight. To be fair, it was not their idea. They only decided to take part after Derrick had been hit in the head by a lunchbox full of water. Within sixty seconds, they were both soaked to the skin. Obviously being wet is against school rules. But having dye run out of your school uniform and onto the school carpet is even more against the school rules, even if there is no actual rule stating that. So Samantha was soon joined by Michael and Derrick, standing on a thick spread of newspaper outside Headmaster Pimplestock's office. And there they forlornly waited for Nanny Piggins to arrive. Half an hour later Nanny Piggins strode in through the front door. Unlike the children, she looked fabulous. She was wearing a peppermint-green suit, which perfectly suited her complexion. And her hair was set into a series of elegant swirls miraculously balanced on top of her head. It looked as if it had taken three hours to arrange by a Hollywood hair and make-up artist. Th e children were used to seeing Nanny Piggins with chocolate smeared across her face, so they found it daunting to see her so immaculately groomed. Nanny Piggins paused in front of Derrick, Samantha and Michael and looked them up and down, clicking her tongue with disgust. Even though the whole thing had been her idea, she did look genuinely angry with them. The children hoped she was pretending. But, because she was so good at pretending, they could not be entirely sure. Nanny Piggins marched into the headmaster's office. But before Headmaster Pimplestock could draw breath to voice his litany of complaints, she both shocked and pleased the children by unexpectedly yelling at him, 'What on earth have you done to my children?' 'Done? Wh–Why... I... that is to say the school...' spluttered Headmaster Pimplestock.  Nanny Piggins did not allow him to continue. 'When they left home this morning, they were dressed in brand new store-bought uniforms. Someone has obviously robbed them of their new clothes en route to school. Perhaps within the grounds of this very institution.' 'Madam, I assure you...' Headmaster Pimplestock began to protest. But Nanny Piggins was not going to let him continue. 'I am shocked that you allow this disgraceful criminal activity to go on in a school. Mr Green pays good money to have his children educated here, based on the assumption that they will be protected from crime. He will be most angry when I tell him about this. He will probably demand a refund of the fees,' Nanny Piggins boldly declared. Now she really had Headmaster Pimplestock worried. 'My good lady, there's no need...' he began. But Nanny Piggins interrupted again. 'No need?! No need to ensure that Mr Green's money is not wasted?' 'No, I mean no need to get upset. If the children's uniforms have been stolen by somebody, I'm sure not associated with this school, they can easily be replaced. We have a large supply of excellent quality second hand uni–' 'Second-hand! Mr Green will not have his children wearing the second-hand hand-me-downs of strangers,' declared Nanny Piggins. 'Of course. What I meant was that I am sure we, the school, can reimburse you for the cost of new uniforms,' grovelled Headmaster Pimplestock. 'That's more like it.' 'Why don't you take the children home to bathe? Then, if they are fitted for their new uniforms tomorrow, we shall look forward to seeing them again first thing on Wednesday morning... if that would be convenient for you?' Headmaster Pimplestock added, looking suitably brow-beaten.  'All right,' agreed Nanny Piggins. Headmaster Pimplestock took the petty cash tin out of his desk. 'Let's see, $500 ought to cover it.' The children could not believe it. Just when everything had gone absolutely horribly wrong, when they were on the verge of being thrown out of school, disowned by their father and probably chucked into a home for delinquent children, a miracle had occurred. They could not believe their eyes as they watched Headmaster Pimplestock count out another five crisp, new, $100 notes. Everything was going to be all right after all. 'Would you like it in an envelope?' Headmaster Pimplestock asked. 'Ah yes, to hide the money? Of course. No, on second thought, it's all right, I have my own,' said Nanny Piggins, taking out her empty envelope from the previous day. Five minutes later, the children and Nanny Piggins were walking out through the school gates. The children were still shell-shocked by their good fortune. 'I can't believe it. We've got the rest of today and all of tomorrow off school,' exclaimed Derrick. He was delighted. 'And we've got $500 to spend,' said Nanny Piggins as she peered into the bulging envelope. 'But Nanny Piggins, surely you should spend this $500 on actually buying uniforms,' said Samantha. 'Pish,' said Nanny Piggins. 'You don't need uniforms until Wednesday. I'm sure we can find something better to invest the money on in the meantime.'  CHAPTER 3 Leonardo da Piggins Derrick, Samantha and Michael charged into the room where Nanny Piggins sat, studying the TV guide and sipping her cup of coffee. 'Can Samson and Margaret come over to play?' asked Derrick, clearly struggling to contain his excitement. 'Please, Nanny Piggins, please,' begged Michael. 'What?' asked Nanny Piggins. She didn't like having her morning cup of coffee disturbed. Certainly not with the horrible suggestion of playing hostess to the Wallace children. 'We'll be really good,' Samantha assured her. 'I don't know. Aren't there rooms that need to be tidied or things that need to be cleaned?' asked Nanny Piggins. She strained hard to think of an excuse, trying to remember the chores that she had heard little children should be expected to do. It is not that Nanny Piggins disliked the Wallace children. They were pleasant enough. As pleasant as rich children who never seem to dirty their clothes can be. What Nanny Piggins did not like was the Wallace nanny, Nanny Anne. Nanny Anne was just too disgustingly perfect to believe. She always wore perfect clothes and had perfect hair and arranged perfect day trips to perfectly complement the children's perfect education. 'Wouldn't you rather do anything else?' Nanny Piggins asked hopefully. 'We could go rat catching, or throw things in the river to see if they float.' These were two of Nanny Piggins' favourite activities. 'Perhaps we could catch some rats and then throw them in the river?'  But the children were not to be outwitted. They were not very fond of the Wallace children either. They were, however, deeply in love with the remote control car that Samson (the oldest Wallace) had promised to bring. So they had devised a plan to tempt Nanny Piggins into agreement. 'Nanny Anne says she will bring a cake,' said Samantha. All three children held their breaths as they waited to see how their nanny would react. Just as they expected, her ears immediately pricked up. 'What sort of cake?' Nanny Piggins asked cautiously. 'Samson is still on the phone. I could ask?' suggested Derrick. 'Yes, run and ask him. I will need to know precisely what sort of cake before I agree to anything,' Nanny Piggins said. Derrick raced out of the room to the phone in the corridor. Samantha and Michael waited in silence with their fingers crossed. Moments later Derrick burst back in. 'Banana cake!' he wheezed. He was out of breath from the excitement and the running. Nanny Piggins pulled a face of disgust. 'Banana cake,' she said, managing to fit a lot of contempt into those two words. To her mind, cake and fruit were at cross purposes. It was an insult to cake to try to combine the two. Admittedly, banana cake was not as bad as carrot cake. Grinding up vegetables and putting them in cake was, in her opinion, an act of fraud that should be punishable by imprisonment. But Derrick had a trump card. 'Banana cake... with chocolate chips!' he added triumphantly. That sealed the deal. 'Tell them to come at two o'clock,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Hooray!' yelled all three children. 'Let's spend all morning making a really tough obstacle course to see if we can crash Samson's car,' suggested Samantha. 'Good idea,' agreed Derrick, and they rushed outside to do just that.  *** Later that afternoon Nanny Piggins sat listening to Nanny Anne. It was a deeply unpleasant experience, a lot like having a fly caught in your eardrum: very loud and off-putting. But Nanny Piggins managed to bear the torment by making sure she had a slice of banana cake with chocolate chips in her mouth at all times. 'You seem to be enjoying the cake,' simpered Nanny Anne with a smug little smile. Nanny Piggins squinted at her out of the corner of her eye. She had indeed eaten three quarters of the cake on her own. And at such a speed that a considerable amount of it had become smeared around her mouth and across her face. But Nanny Piggins would sooner stick a pin in her trotter than admit she liked anything Nanny Anne had made. 'Not enough chocolate chips,' was her only response as she wedged yet another slice into her mouth. Nanny Anne did not seem to mind being ignored. She was quite happy to sit and recite a monologue of all the worthy things she had done with Samson and Margaret. 'I think it is ever so important to take children to the art gallery. They learn so much about beautiful things there. When was the last time you took your children to the art gallery?' Nanny Anne asked slyly. Fully confident that whatever Nanny Piggins' answer might be, it would confirm her own nannying superiority. Nanny Piggins might have been feeling slightly ill from eating too much cake (no doubt it was the banana that was disagreeing with her) but she was not going to let herself be gazzumped by Nanny Anne. So she swallowed her large mouthful of cake and began to embroider the most spectacular tale her imagination could supply. 'I have been so busy teaching the children about the Westminster system of parliament, the role of the electron in the depletion of the ozone layer and...' She struggled to think of a third really impressive thing. '... and all about chocolate that I am afraid I have not had time to take them to the art gallery. It is on my list of the 3700 incredibly important things I plan to do with them. The 3521st thing was to go to the art gallery. And, as it happens, we did the 3520th thing this morning, when I taught them how to light a fire with just a stick and a piece of string. So we will be going to the art gallery first thing tomorrow morning.' Nanny Anne was rendered temporarily speechless. Which, of course, had been Nanny Piggins' goal. Big fibs are much better than small fibs when you want to gazzump somebody. Nanny Piggins used the temporary silence to stuffthe final piece of banana cake into her mouth and rudely say, with her mouth full, 'Thank you for coming but you had better go now. Before we let the wild dog loose in the house for daily exercise.' 'You let a wild dog exercise in the house?' asked Nanny Anne. 'Oh no, we let a wild dog in the house to exercise the children. It chases them around to keep them fit,' explained Nanny Piggins. Nanny Anne eyed Nanny Piggins beadily as she tried to assess whether or not she was telling the truth. But Nanny Piggins was a master of appearing to look innocent when she definitely was not. So Nanny Anne decided to gather up Samson and Margaret and make a hasty retreat without waiting to see the wild dog for herself. *** 'Did you enjoy playing with Samson's car?' Nanny Piggins asked her three, hot and sweaty charges after the Wallaces were safely offthe property. 'Oh, yes,' said Michael. 'Derrick drove it straight into the fish pond. And Samson actually cried until he saw it drive up the bank on the other side.' 'Well, I hope it was lots of fun,' said Nanny Piggins, 'to make up for the fact that we all have to go to the art gallery tomorrow. Where we will, no doubt, be bored witless by millions of paintings of naked, fat ladies.'  'But why do we have to go to the art gallery?' asked Derrick, crestfallen to think that such a wonderful play date had now gone so horribly wrong. 'It's all Nanny Anne's fault,' explained Nanny Piggins. 'The things I have to do to prove she's not better than me. It's ridiculous. I'll bet she's never been fired out of a cannon in her life. And still she goes around putting on airs.' 'Will the art gallery be completely awful?' asked Michael. Until now his only experience of art had involved finger painting. Which, in his opinion, was wonderfully squishy and messy, but he suspected that grown-ups would know how to suck the fun out of even that. 'I imagine it will be utterly dreadful,' said Nanny Piggins. But she relented when she saw the three sad faces. 'Never mind. If we all wear sneakers, we can run around the gallery as quickly as possible. Th e whole thing shouldn't take more than five minutes. Then we can go somewhere else and eat ice-cream.' *** As it turned out the trip to the art gallery was not altogether unpleasant. There were a lot more violent bloodthirsty paintings than Nanny Piggins had expected so she made the children stop running to have a look at them. Derrick's favourite painting was of French soldiers charging into battle to kill Russians. Samantha's favourite painting was of a pretty lady called Judith hacking a man's head off with a knife. And Michael's favourite painting was of a field full of cows. The cows were not doing anything exciting but he had always liked cows, which was surprising, given that he did not at all like milk. Fifteen minutes after entering the gallery, Nanny Piggins and the children made their way down to the ground floor, having spent three times as long looking at paintings as they had planned to. Nanny Piggins was even beginning to think charitable thoughts like, 'Perhaps culture isn't so bad after all,' and 'Maybe I'll bring the children back again in four or five years' time,' as they approached the final room. There was a sign by the doorway explaining that this room did not contain works from the regular collection. These pictures were finalists in the gallery's annual portrait prize. 'What's a portrait?' asked Michael. 'Good question,' said Nanny Piggins. This is what she always said when she did not know the answer to something. 'It's a painting of a person,' said Derrick. 'Really?' asked Nanny Piggins. She was slightly impressed. Perhaps Derrick was more intelligent that she had taken him for. 'It says so on the wall,' said Michael, pointing to a sign on the wall. 'Ah, yes,' said Nanny Piggins. 'You can learn a lot from walls.' And so the four of them entered the room to see the portraits for themselves. Sadly, none of them liked what they saw. There were no soldiers, no beheadings and not even any cows. But it was not the absence of these pleasant things that made the portraits so disappointing. The problem was they were all pictures of people and yet none of them looked like people at all. Some were done only using squares and triangles. And some were done with yellows and greens and other colours you would never see on a real person's face no matter how sick they were. Nanny Piggins was horrified. She went over to the security guard standing in the corner. 'What on earth do you call this?' she demanded as she pointed to a particularly unattractive blue stick figure of a man bending over. 'That's what they call "modern art",' said the guard glumly. He clearly was not much more impressed himself. 'That's what I call a load of old rubbish,' declared Nanny Piggins. 'You're not the first person to say that,' admitted the guard.  'I could paint better than that with four trotters tied behind my back,' said Nanny Piggins. 'You should give it a go then,' said the guard. 'These are the finalists from last year's competition. Entries for this year can be submitted up until next week...' 'I wouldn't waste my time–' began Nanny Piggins. 'The winner gets $50,000,' said the guard. 'What?' Nanny Piggins was electrified. 'Did you say $50?' 'I said $50,000,' said the guard. '$50,000! Why that's more than $500 and it's more than $5000!' Nanny Piggins tried to mentally come to terms with this enormous sum. 'Surely that's more money than exists in the world?' 'Oh, it exists all right. And they give it away to any old nutbar who bangs down a bit of oil on canvas, if you ask me,' said the guard. 'Well, I intend to be this year's nutbar,' said Nanny Piggins. *** Painting a portrait turned out to be a lot more difficult than Nanny Piggins had anticipated. She knew the actual painting part would be easy. All you had to do was wipe paint onto canvas in the appropriate places. Any pig could do that. The hard part was deciding who to paint. According to the rules of the competition the portrait had to be of 'an important person'. So Nanny Piggins and the children wracked their minds all afternoon trying to think of somebody suitable. 'We must know someone important,' said Nanny Piggins. 'I can't think of anyone off the top of my head,' said Derrick. 'What about the Headmaster Pimplestock from school?' asked Samantha. 'Yuck! Nobody likes headmasters,' said Nanny Piggins dismissively.  'How about Hans the baker,' asked Michael. 'He's not important,' Samantha pointed out. 'No, but he makes delicious custard tarts,' protested Michael. This weighed heavily with Nanny Piggins because she did like a custard tart almost as much as she liked a chocolate cake. But she suspected that the judges of the portrait prize would not share her high regard for the baking profession. 'No, we need someone who has really done something special with their lives: a hero, an adventurer, a really glamorous person,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Then why don't you paint a picture of you,' suggested Michael. 'What?' asked Nanny Piggins. 'Oh yes, that's a very good idea. When you do a portrait of yourself it's called a self-portrait. You could do one of those,' said Samantha. 'Me?' said Nanny Piggins. She was not too sure. 'Of course, you're someone who has really done something. You've been blasted out of a cannon night after night at the circus. And there was the time they accidentally put too much gun powder in the cannon and you were blasted right through the roof of the tent. I bet no other pig has ever done that,' said Derrick 'True, true, very true,' agreed Nanny Piggins. 'You have to be brave, heroic and an all-round glamorous person to be blasted out of a cannon,' agreed Samantha. 'Everybody knows that,' says Michael, even though the thought had never occurred to him before. 'You children all make good arguments,' said Nanny Piggins. 'I can see that I would make an excellent subject for a portrait. The only problem is how am I going to paint myself? I can't sit across the other side of the room from myself to get a good look at my appearance. No matter how fast I ran back and forth across the room, I could never get far enough away from myself to have a really good look.' The logic of this really did stump the children. They thought long and hard on it for at least ten seconds before Samantha had the second brilliant idea of the day. 'I know! You can look at yourself in a mirror,' she said. 'Look at myself in a mirror,' Nanny Piggins said, considering this idea. 'Yes, I suppose that would work. The only problem would be that an image in a mirror is reversed, isn't it? So if I painted my reflection, everything would be all backwards. My left side would be on the right and the right side would be on the left.' The children all looked at themselves in the mirror, poking first the left side of their faces, then the right side, and they realised she was correct. 'I know. We could cross our fingers and hope that none of the judges notice,' suggested Derrick. 'That just might do the trick. After all, they were stupid enough to like those paintings from last year, so it's not as if they are particularly clever people,' said Nanny Piggins. *** And so, that night, after a hearty dinner of caramel brownies and sherbet lemons (Mr Green was away and Nanny Piggins was in charge of deciding the menu), Nanny Piggins set to work on her portrait. And the children stayed up to watch her, enthralled to see a masterpiece created before their very eyes. As it turned out, Nanny Piggins was actually a very gifted painter. After all, you do not get to be the drawcard at a major travelling circus without having an artistic temperament. Just as Nanny Piggins had taken to being blasted out of a cannon the first time (she happened to be checking down the barrel of the cannon for cake at the exact moment they decided to test it), Nanny Piggins proved herself to be an accomplished painter on her first attempt. It is hard to describe what any great masterpiece looks like. You really need to see it for yourself to appreciate the beauty of the brushwork, the composition and the artist's use of colour. But I will try and describe Nanny Piggins' self-portrait for you. If you can imagine Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa, a mysterious, smiling woman dressed in black. Only instead of a human's face, imagine a pig's face. And instead of two folded human hands, imagine two folded pig trotters. Then you will have a perfect mental picture of Nanny Piggins' self- portrait. It was, in short, a breathtakingly brilliant artwork, the quality of which has not been seen since Leonardo da Vinci dropped dead in 1519. Nanny Piggins proudly handed in her self-portrait, without a doubt in her mind that the $50,000 would soon be hers. The judges had three days to decide the winner. And they were a lovely three days for Nanny Piggins and the children. Each day they played a marvellous game called 'What shall we spend the $50,000 on?' They all found this game endlessly entertaining because the more they thought about it, the more good ideas they came up with. Michael wanted to buy an elephant and ride it to school every day. Samantha wanted to buy a great big diamond, then shoot a laser through it to burn a hole in her maths teacher's car. And Derrick wanted to buy a speed boat so he could quit school and become a pirate. And so, before they knew it, they were being invited down to the gallery for the announcement of the prize. This was deemed to be such an important event by Nanny Piggins that she actually washed her face (using soap), even behind her ears, which destroyed several good smears of chocolate she had been saving for later. There was quite a crowd gathered ready to hear the announcement. 'You can tell which ones are the artists,' Nanny Piggins said loudly, for she could be instructive when she chose to be. 'They are the useless- looking ones wearing cardigans.' There were indeed several useless- looking, stroppy young men wearing cardigans among the crowd. And those that had heard Nanny Piggins' comment glared at her instead of glaring meaningfully into the middle distance like they normally did. But there was no time to consider their appalling dress sense because the director of the gallery was soon tapping the microphone and clearing his throat. Which is, supposedly, the polite way to say 'shut-up' before beginning a speech. 'Thank you all for coming...' the director started. Nanny Piggins just rolled her eyes. 'Get to the money!' she heckled. Th e director of the gallery ignored her and warbled on. Nanny Piggins passed toffees out to each of the children to fortify them through the inevitable speechifying. Some time later, after thanking every one of his friends by name and making several simpering comments he mistook for jokes, the director did finally get to the point. 'And now to announce the winner...' he said. Nanny Piggins swiftly pinched each of the children to make sure they were paying attention. 'But before I do...' he went on. Nanny Piggins and the children all groaned loudly. 'I have to announce that one of the entries, regrettably, had to be disqualified from the competition.' 'Some twit didn't follow the rules,' guessed Nanny Piggins. 'Unfortunately we had to disqualify "Self-Portrait of a Flying Pig" by Sarah Piggins.' 'Why?' shrieked Nanny Piggins, hardly believing her ears. 'Because portraits of pigs are not allowed in the competition,' explained the director. 'But that's pigism,' bellowed Nanny Piggins. She was really cross now. 'How dare you stand up there and be piggist. In front of children too. You should be ashamed of yourself.' The director the gallery was very taken aback. He had never been yelled at by a pig before. 'I'm afraid there is nothing I can do. Samuel H. Wiseman, the founder of the Wiseman Portrait Prize, was very specific when he set down the rules.' The director took out a copy of the rule booklet and read from the first page: 'Rule number 1 – the painting must be a portrait. Rule number 2 – the portrait must, under no circumstances whatsoever, be of a pig.' The whole crowd gasped. 'Why on earth would he write such a mean, beastly, prejudiced rule?' demanded Nanny Piggins. 'Well, I have done some research,' the director admitted, 'and according to his family records, he was attacked by a crazed pig when he was a small child. He obviously held a grudge for the rest of his life.' 'A man like that shouldn't be allowed to set up art prizes,' Nanny Piggins said in disgust. 'I'm dreadfully sorry,' said the director, before continuing with the rest of the prize-giving ceremony. The portrait prize did indeed go to a horrible painting that looked nothing like anybody, let alone the person it was supposed to be. Unless it was meant to be a picture of a person whose head was caught in a vice and covered in orange paint. But Nanny Piggins had stopped listening. She had lost all interest in portrait prizes now that she was not going to be given one. It was such a shame when they were all so terribly good at playing 'What Shall We Do With $50,000'. The director droned on and on about 'honour' and 'the importance of art' and 'prestige to the gallery', making Nanny Piggins wish she had brought some sponge cake to shove in her ears, but then what he was saying became interesting. 'Each year, as you know,' said the director, 'aside from the Wiseman Portrait Prize which is, of course, judged by the finest art critics in the country, there is another prize.' Nanny Piggins' ears immediately pricked up.  'The security guards who stand in the gallery and look at the paintings all day long pick their own favourite. So now I'd like to introduce Guard Smith to announce the Guards' Prize.' Guard Smith approached the microphone. He was the same guard Nanny Piggins had spoken to a week earlier. And, thankfully, he had a much more direct style of speech-making than his employer. He cleared his throat and got right to it. 'This year's Guards' Prize goes to Sarah Piggins, on the grounds that her painting actually looks like what it is meant to. And I know because I've met her and it's the spitting image.' Tears streamed down Nanny Piggins' face as she climbed up on stage to accept the award. 'Thank you, thank you so much,' Nanny Piggins gushed. 'It is good to know that there are still some people who truly appreciate real art.' 'You're welcome,' said the guard. 'You certainly deserve it.' And with that, he handed her the Guards' Prize – a large packet of chocolate biscuits. Nanny Piggins clutched the biscuits to her chest. 'What a wonderful, wonderful prize,' she exclaimed. 'I'm glad I didn't win the Portrait Prize now. I'd much rather have some chocolate biscuits.' And they were really good biscuits. The type that have to be stored in the refrigerator because there's so much chocolate in them. Not that Nanny Piggins' packet ever made it that far. She and the children sat down and ate them all on the spot. They then returned home, completely satisfied that they'd had the better of the art establishment.  CHAPTER 4 Nanny Piggins and the Sherbet Lemon that Saved the Day Nanny Piggins and the three children were crouched on the kitchen floor, holding a cockroach race, when Mr Green entered. Now, one of the first things Nanny Piggins had taught the children was what to do if someone walks in on you when you are doing something bad. So when Mr Green burst in, the children did exactly as they had been trained – they stayed absolutely still and did not say a word, completely ignoring the four cockroaches as the creatures scattered across the floor in front of them. Nanny Piggins made a mental note to re-catch hers later because it was a big one with long legs and it would be a shame to let it run wild. Apart from making excellent racers, cockroaches can be tremendously handy for shocking hygienic people and clearing long queues at the deli. Mr Green saw nothing wrong with the disarray of furniture, or the fact that his children were sitting on the floor among an infestation of insects. Because, in truth, he was not looking at them. Whenever his children came into his eye-line, he looked through them. He found parenthood less disturbing that way. He had come into the room to impart the minimum possible information to the nanny and then retreat. Nanny Piggins could sense this, so she did not speak. She did not want to encourage him to hang around any longer than he had to. 'I shall be going away for a few days,' said Mr Green. The children's first instinct was to squeal with joy. It was always nice when their father was out of the house. But it was extra, especially nice if they knew, for sure, he would not be coming back for days and days. 'I trust you will be all right with the children,' continued Mr Green. 'Yes,' agreed Nanny Piggins. There was an awkward pause. 'I suppose you'll need the contact details of where I'm staying,' said Mr Green glumly. 'No, that's all right. If something terrible happens we can wait and tell you all about it when you get back,' said Nanny Piggins. Mr Green much preferred it this way. He was very pleased that the nanny suggested it. Unfortunately for Mr Green, in looking forward to five days without any contact with his three children, he had a temporary brain spasm and said the following: 'Then I will leave the key to the car for you. In case you need to drive somewhere. You know, rushing the children to the hospital in the middle of the night, that sort of thing.' With that, he took his car key off his keyring and laid it down on the kitchen bench. 'Thank you,' said Nanny Piggins. 'I don't imagine I will use it. But it's good to know I can, in case of a really, really extreme emergency. Like someone's hand being accidentally chopped off.' 'All right then,' said Mr Green. He often said meaningless things in place of making actual conversation. 'I'll be off. So, goodbye, I suppose.' 'Goodbye,' said Nanny Piggins and the children. The door had barely swung back to the doorpost before Nanny Piggins leaped up from the floor and, in an act of unexpected athleticism, hurled herself at the kitchen counter, snatching up the key as quickly as humanly – or rather pigly – possible. 'The key to the car!' said Nanny Piggins in awestruck tones. 'This is the nicest thing anyone has ever given me.'  'He didn't actually give it to you,' Derrick pointed out. He wanted Nanny Piggins to have the key to the car as much as anyone but he still thought it was important to be accurate. 'He just lent it to you.' 'Yes, he lent me this key. But when I take it to the key cutter and get a copy made, that one will be mine to keep!' explained Nanny Piggins and, indeed, Derrick could not argue with that. 'Just think, with this key we could go anywhere,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Anywhere until you get to the sea and have to swap into a boat,' reasoned Samantha. 'I'm sure I could get a nice boat in exchange for your father's car. It's brand new and he has it washed all the time,' said Nanny Piggins. This frightened Samantha. 'I wasn't suggesting you swap father's car.' 'No, of course not,' agreed Nanny Piggins. 'But it's nice to know I can if I absolutely need to. You know, to ensure world peace or something.' Samantha was only slightly reassured. 'Let's go and look at it,' suggested Nanny Piggins. Moments later, Nanny Piggins and the children stood looking at Mr Green's car. It was a Rolls Royce and they are usually very expensive. But Mr Green had got it cheap because something had gone wrong at the paint-mixing factory. The car had been painted in exactly the same shade of yellow as cat-sick. This did not deter Nanny Piggins and the children. The car looked impressive and exotic now that they had control over it. The paintwork shone brighter, the upholstery smelled stronger and the whole thing looked bigger. 'Let's sit in it to see how it feels,' suggested Nanny Piggins. 'But you're only meant to drive it in extreme emergencies,' Samantha reminded her. 'We're only sitting in it. What harm can that do?' reasoned Nanny Piggins. Samantha could not argue with that. What harm could it do? Besides, she wanted to sit in the back seat and pretend she was the Queen waving to the crowds of loyal subjects. So all four of them happily climbed in. Samantha pretended she was the Queen, Michael pretended he was a fire-engine driver, Derrick pretended he was a detective staking out a criminal's lair and Nanny Piggins pretended she was the nanny of a very silly man who gave her the key to a luxury car. It was a lot of fun. Having a car was even more fun than cockroach races. 'Why don't you turn the radio on?' suggested Derrick. 'How do I do that?' asked Nanny Piggins. 'Just put the key in the ignition and turn it one notch,' Derrick explained. Nanny Piggins did as he suggested and, suddenly, the car was filled with noise. The loud, boring noise of two men talking about politics. 'Yuck, change the channel,' said Michael. Derrick reached over and pressed a few buttons. Suddenly they were listening to music. 'You mean we can choose what we listen to?' said Nanny Piggins in amazement. 'Oh yes, there are dozens of stations to choose from,' Derrick explained. 'I assumed your father's radio was permanently set to the most boring station in the world. I didn't realise he could choose to change it,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Oh yes,' said Derrick. 'You just press the buttons up or down until you find a station you like.' Nanny Piggins was astounded. 'Just think of all the times we've been in the car with him and we've either had to listen to him talk, or the radio talk. When we could have been listening to music instead. I would have done something about it had I known.' The children could see that Nanny Piggins had a point. The car was so much more exciting now that their father was not in it. 'What does this button do?' asked Nanny Piggins, reaching towards a small black box sitting in the central tray. 'That opens the garage door,' explained Sam antha. 'Really,' said Nanny Piggins as she reached over and pressed the button. 'What are you doing?' asked Samantha, immediately suspicious. 'I thought we might take the car out for a little drive,' said Nanny Piggins. 'But you're only meant to drive it in an emergency,' said Samantha. Now you must understand, Samantha was not a spoilsport. She loved her nanny. And she enjoyed fun. She just took a while longer to warm up to fun than most children. But once she finally stopped worrying and started to enjoy herself, she could be just as much fun as the next irresponsible youth. 'Yes, I know. But the problem is, I don't know how to drive. So I had better learn now. Th at way I'll know what I'm doing when an emergency does happen,' explained Nanny Piggins, using a logic that only made full sense to herself. 'Didn't you learn how to drive at the circus?' asked Michael with surprise. It seemed to him that Nanny Piggins had learned everything else at the circus. 'No,' said Nanny Piggins absent-mindedly, as she poked buttons, hoping it would make the car go. 'If I wanted to get somewhere I'd just have them fire me out of the cannon in that direction. So how do I make this go?'  'You turn the key another notch,' said Derrick, not really thinking about the consequences of his suggestion. Because his mind was too busy picturing Nanny Piggins shooting through the air carrying a letter on the way to the post office. Before he knew it, the engine had roared to life. 'Oh my goodness!' he exclaimed. 'Now we're cooking with gas,' said Nanny Piggins delightedly. This was one of her favourite expressions. She did not know what it meant precisely. But she imagined it had something to do with the delight cavemen felt when gas was invented and they could stop lighting fires by rubbing two sticks together. 'Where shall we go?' she asked the children. 'How about the shop?' suggested Derrick conservatively. 'How about you just back it out of the drive carefully?' suggested Samantha even more conservatively. 'How about Iceland?' suggested Michael, feeling not-at-all conservative because he knew the car had seven air bags so not only was he likely to survive a crash, it would probably also be exciting and fun. 'I know,' declared Nanny Piggins, 'let's do all three!' And with that she threw the car into reverse and went precisely nowhere. 'What's happened?' she asked Derrick. Derrick opened his eyes. He had closed them to brace for impact just in case Nanny Piggins managed to back into a truck as she came out of the driveway. He looked over to see what Nanny Piggins was doing and immediately recognised the problem. 'Your legs don't reach the pedals.' 'What pedals?' asked Nanny Piggins, although she soon saw the answer for herself when she looked down and saw two of them. 'One is to make the car go and the other is to make the car stop,' explained Derrick.  'How ingenious,' said Nanny Piggins. Humans could be annoying but they did come up with some clever things. 'Well there's nothing for it...' Samantha hoped Nanny Piggins was about to say they would all have to go back in the house. But, of course, she did not. She said, 'Michael will have to crawl down there and press them for me when I call out.' Michael was only too willing to do just that. So they were soon lurching backwards down the driveway with terrifying bursts of speed, followed by jolting stops. Derrick was reluctantly impressed when Nanny Piggins managed to get the car onto the road having only driven over one rubbish bin and a rose bush. 'We've got it out of the driveway. Now let's go to the shop,' yelled Nanny Piggins. She was excited and giddy with her new-found source of power. 'Just think, we can buy lollies without having to be exhausted from the walk there.' 'Oh my goodness!' exclaimed Derrick. For he had opened the glove box and was overwhelmed by what he saw. 'What is it?' asked Nanny Piggins. 'Look at all that money,' said Derrick pointing into the glove box. Because there in front of him was an entire $10 worth of small coins. It was the change Mr Green used for paying the toll on the way to work. 'It's like a pirate's treasure chest,' said Nanny Piggins, making a mental note to search Mr Green's things for money more often. 'Look at all that money. It's a fortune. Think how much chocolate we're going to be able to buy.' Even Samantha was beginning to stop worrying at the thought of all that chocolate. 'Press harder on the "go" pedal, Michael, we've got lollies to buy,' ordered Nanny Piggins. And Michael, being a good boy, did exactly as he was told. The car shot forward and Nanny Piggins, using all her dexterity and skill from years of being a circus performer, was able to drive the car all the way to the shop without once asking Michael to press the stop pedal. At least not until they got to the shop, when Michael hit the brake so hard the car left two great long tracks of rubber burnt onto the road behind it. Nanny Piggins and the children hopped out of the car and raced into the shop as fast as they could, not realising that they had left the engine on. It did not occur to Nanny Piggins that you needed to turn a car off, because she had never bought petrol before. She had no idea that petrol was expensive and that you should try to use as little as possible. While it was always difficult for Nanny Piggins and the children to decide exactly what sort of sweets to buy, and coming to this decision usually involved them yelling and screaming at each other, the shrieking match was usually brief. Because no matter whether they preferred peppermints to chocolate, or chocolate to sherbet, they were all united in the common goal to get as much of it in their mouths as quickly as possible. So three minutes after entering, they left the shop carrying a large shopping bag full to the brim with their negotiated combination of treats. They hurried back to the car so they could enjoy their haul privately, without being criticised by passers-by, because it seemed that everyone was an expert on childhood obesity these days. And whenever Nanny Piggins let the children eat their own body weight in chocolate in the street, there was always some nosey stranger who would stop to give her a piece of their mind. Once in the car, however, they had only got a handful of lollies in their mouths when they noticed that there was a fully grown man sitting in the middle of the back seat, screaming at Nanny Piggins to 'Drive! Hurry up and drive!' The man was waving what looked like an incredibly realistic water pistol so Nanny Piggins decided to do exactly what he said. She put the car in drive and asked Michael to press the 'go' pedal. As they raced away from the strip of shops the man seemed to relax, although he still kept his realistic-looking water pistol trained on Nanny Piggins. 'What happened to Paul?' asked the man. 'Whatever do you mean?' asked Nanny Piggins. 'Where did he go? Paul was behind the wheel when I went into the jewellery shop. Are you his missus or something?' asked the man. Nanny Piggins was about to get on her feminist high horse and explain that she was no man's 'missus', when she thought better of it. She had just had her hair set and did not want to be doused in water. '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.  CHAPTER 5 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. *** The dinner did not go at all as Mr Green had planned. Nanny Piggins was completely silent for the first fifteen minutes as she wolfed down all five courses of the meal. Both her own and Mr Green's servings. He was too horrified to be able to eat anything. Then she immediately set to work making friends. It turned out there was something much worse than Nanny Piggins upsetting Isabella Dunkhurst. And that was Nanny Piggins and Ms Dunkhurst becoming buddies. Nanny Piggins struck up the friendship by challenging the veteran lawyer to a drinking contest. Having downed a bottle of lemonade in a quarter of Ms Dunkhurst's time, Nanny Piggins proceeded to teach her new friend 'Issy' to tap dance on the head table. The rest of the evening was a blur. Within half an hour of their arrival, Nanny Piggins had all the assembled lawyers up on their feet and dancing with her. These were people who had never before danced in their lives. Even as three-year- olds they had refused to do the hokey pokey because they did not want to look undignified. Mr Green tried to keep up with Nanny Piggins because he did not want to look like a bad sport. Particularly when all the senior partners obviously thought she was tremendously good fun. The problem was that it's hard not to look like a bad sport when you are a bad sport. Mr Green got separated from the party when they were en route to a nightclub and Nanny Piggins demanded that the taxi stop so they could do a semi-nude run through the park.  Mr Green had got out of the taxi and was trying to be a joiner. But it took him so long to get his socks off that his colleagues were streaking off into the darkness before he was even half undressed. He sat on his own, waiting for them to return, but when they still had not come back an hour later, he dressed, got in a taxi and went home. There he sat and waited in his study, dreading to think of the damage to his career Nanny Piggins would cause. He must have fallen asleep at some stage because he was woken at eight o'clock the next morning by the smell of fried eggs and sausages. He ventured out into the kitchen to discover Samantha cooking breakfast as Nanny Piggins, still wearing her dress from the night before, regaled the children with the story of her adventures. '... and then I climbed up the flagpole with his trousers and hung them from the top. So we must all go down to the town hall after breakfast to see if Senator Peterson's pants are still there.' Mr Green cleared his throat. This was his favourite way of calling attention to himself. It saved him having to think of something to say. Nanny Piggins and the children turned to look at him. 'So you had a good evening then?' Mr Green asked. He knew he had to find out what went on but he was not sure where to begin. 'We had a pretty good night,' said Nanny Piggins cautiously. 'For a bunch of old fuddy duddies, they warmed up all right.' 'Good, good,' said Mr Green, although he clearly thought it was nothing of the kind. 'So, er...' He was trying to get to the important bit that he really wanted to know. 'So, er... nobody said anything about, er... sacking me for taking a pig to the annual dinner then?' 'Nobody said anything about you all evening,' said Nanny Piggins conclusively, as she bit into a delicious egg sandwich. Now many people would have taken this as an insult but it is a testament to how boring Mr Green is that he found this to be a great relief indeed. 'Oh, good,' he said. 'Well I'll pop out and pick up that cake for you, shall I?' 'That would be very nice,' agreed Nanny Piggins between mouthfuls. 'Although you might want to get me two cakes while you're there.' 'Why?' asked Mr Green. He could never see why he should part with any more money than he had to. 'Because Ms Dunkhurst offered me a job,' said Nanny Piggins. 'She wants me to be the new senior partner. She thinks it will be a refreshing change to have a partner who has never studied law.' 'Oh my gosh!' exclaimed Mr Green. He clutched his chest, desperately wishing that he would be struck dead with a heart attack then and there. 'Sooo...' said Nanny Piggins, letting him wallow in agony for as long as possible. 'I thought you might want to bribe me not to take the job.' Mr Green sighed a huge sigh of relief. 'Two cakes it is then.' With that he rushed out of the house and down to the bakery before she could increase her demands.  CHAPTER 6 Nanny vs. Nanny The Green children were sitting on top of their family home learning about Newton's Law of Universal Gravitation by throwing things off the roof. The whole thing had been their nanny's idea. She knew a lot about gravity, being a former flying pig. They had started with apples and bags of flour and progressed to pot plants and their father's portable radio. The children were impressed to discover that even though he was old and dead, Isaac Newton really knew what he was talking about. They were just about to throw their father's filing cabinet off the roof when Michael noticed a woman standing at the front of their house. 'Who's that?' he asked. Derrick, Samantha and Nanny Piggins peered over the edge to take a look. It is hard to tell a lot about someone from the top of their head. All they could see was her broad-brimmed straw hat, the swaying material of her long skirt and the larg