Nanny Piggins and the Daring Rescue 7 (8 page)

‘Plus he lent you his portable TV,' added Michael.

‘Hans is not just a culinary artist,' said Nanny Piggins, ‘he is also a wonderful man.'

‘A man who had a realistic idea of how much cake he would sell if he allowed Nanny Piggins to live in his shop for six days,' added Samantha.

‘Yes, I just gave him Mr Green's credit card to keep,' agreed Nanny Piggins. ‘Your father really was very naughty abandoning us and leaving us to forage for food, so he only has himself to blame if we have Hans' most expensive treat – chocolate fudge hot cake with extra chocolate, extra fudge and extra cake at every meal for the rest of the week.

Nanny Piggins, Boris and the children were sitting on the bench outside the supermarket. They had been given a ‘time-out' by the supermarket manager. He did not want to ban them from the supermarket entirely, because Nanny Piggins spent so much on flour, eggs, butter and other cake-making ingredients. He could not afford to lose her as a customer. But she had become so hysterically overexcited by the discovery of a new brand of cappuccino-flavoured chocolate in the confectionary aisle that he'd had to intervene. He had sent her outside to sit on the bench for 17 minutes (a minute for every block of chocolate she had eaten) while she calmed down. Then, if she apologised for scaring the other customers, she would be allowed back in.

Nanny Piggins would have dearly loved to denounce the supermarket manager and swear that she would never come back to his establishment again, but she knew lying was wrong. And there was no way she would be able to stay away when there were still 23 blocks of cappuccino chocolate sitting on the supermarket shelf.

‘Hmmpf,' said Nanny Piggins sulkily as she kicked her legs back and forth and crossed her arms tighter while thinking nasty thoughts about the manager.

‘Three minutes have gone already,' said Samantha helpfully, ‘so only fourteen more minutes to go.'

‘If I scared the other customers, it's his fault,' grumbled Nanny Piggins.

‘It is?' asked Derrick.

‘If he is going to have such dangerously delicious chocolate in his supermarket he should warn people, with a letterbox drop to everyone in the neighbourhood and a full-page advertisement in all the major newspapers,' said Nanny Piggins. ‘Then he should put up protective barriers around the display in case there is a crush.'

‘To prevent people from getting hurt?' asked Michael.

‘I was thinking to prevent the chocolate getting hurt,' said Nanny Piggins, ‘but it could protect the people too. Now we have to sit out here and wait forever.'

‘We could play a game to pass the time,' suggested Michael.

‘Like what?' asked Nanny Piggins, unbending. She liked games.

‘I-spy,' suggested Michael.

Nanny Piggins groaned. ‘I'd rather slip into a coma. I know that game. It has absolutely nothing to do with spies at all. It's just a deceitful way to teach children spelling skills and dress it up as fun. I refuse to condone such a thing.'

The children did not know what to say next. And Boris was not in a position to speak at all (because his head was stuck under the bench in an attempt to hide. He did not like being yelled at, even when it was only someone as unimposing as a supermarket manager).

‘Twelve minutes to go,' said Samantha, looking at her watch.

‘Why don't we see if there is anything interesting on the community noticeboard?' suggested Michael, pointing to the public bulletin board on the wall across from them.

‘I'm not allowed to get up from the bench,' said Nanny Piggins petulantly.

‘I am,' said Michael. (He was not in the aisle when Nanny Piggins caused her scene. He was too busy reading comics in the stationery aisle.) ‘I'll read them aloud to you.'

This suggestion piqued Nanny Piggins' interest. She liked the community noticeboard. She had once seen an advertisement for an aquarium, which had proved an excellent purchase. It housed her extensive cockroach collection comfortably. She liked her cockroaches to be happy and well rested, just in case Headmaster Pimplestock should annoy her and she had to drive down to the school and dump a couple of hundred of them into the glove box of his car.

‘All right,' said Nanny Piggins. ‘That's a good idea.'

Michael went over to the noticeboard and started reading from the bottom up (he was not a very tall boy).

‘Guinea pigs for sale,' read Michael.

‘Hmm,' said Nanny Piggins. ‘Guinea pigs can be useful. They are very good at impersonating rats. And if you're patient you can train them to defuse bombs in confined spaces. But they do poo everywhere, which is a mark against them.'

‘Yoga lessons at the community centre,' read Michael.

‘Stuff and nonsense!' said Nanny Piggins. ‘I don't need to bend my head back behind my kneecaps to relax.'

‘Hey!' protested Boris, pulling his head out from under the bench. ‘I'm teaching those yoga lessons.'

‘And I'm sure they're very good,' said Nanny Piggins, ‘for people who do need to bend their heads behind their kneecaps to relax.'

‘Which is actually quite a lot of people, let me tell you,' said Boris. ‘Modern life seems to do strange things to a human's central nervous system.'

‘Here's one!' said Michael. ‘Open entry for the regional chess championship.'

‘Chess!' exclaimed Nanny Piggins. ‘I hope they've got paramedics with defibrillators on stand-by, just in case anyone's heart stops beating out of boredom. Could there be anything more dull?'

‘What about ‘I-spy'?' asked Derrick provocatively.

‘Hah!' said Nanny Piggins. ‘Chess makes I-spy look like laser tag. And I mean real laser tag, played with lasers so powerful they could melt a house brick.'

‘That's a shame,' said Michael, still looking at the noticeboard.

‘What do you mean?' asked Nanny Piggins.

‘The prize for the winner of the chess championship is a thousand dollars and –' Michael had to stretch up on his tippy-toes to read the next bit – ‘a year's supply of cheesecake.'

Nanny Piggins leapt to her feet (violating the time-out she had been given). ‘A year's supply of cheesecake!' exclaimed Nanny Piggins. ‘Why, cheesecake is one of the seven most delicious types of cake in the entire world. Rising to the top five when it is chocolate cheesecake.'

‘Really?' asked Samantha. She was tempted to ask what the other six were but decided not to, in case it led to a seven-hour lecture on the subject.

‘And do you know what the best thing about cheesecake is?' asked Nanny Piggins.

‘Um . . .' said Derrick. The children were afraid to answer. Nanny Piggins could get quite upset when she discovered the true level of their cake-related ignorance.

‘It contains no cheese whatsoever,' said Nanny Piggins.

‘I thought it contained cream cheese,' said Samantha.

‘Yes, but that doesn't count because it is much more creamy than cheesy,' said Nanny Piggins. ‘I remember the first time I tried cheesecake. I was so delighted to discover it contained no lumps of cheddar at all. Come on, let's go!'

‘You can't go,' said Samantha. ‘You've been given a time-out. You've got seven more minutes to sit on the bench.'

‘Piffle to that!' said Nanny Piggins.

‘But what about the cappuccino chocolate?' asked Michael.

‘I'll come back and buy it later,' said Nanny Piggins.

‘But you'll be banned,' protested Samantha.

‘I'll disguise myself as a bullfighter,' said Nanny Piggins. ‘They'll never know it's me. The new batch of fake moustaches I ordered arrived in the post yesterday. Now come on. We've got better things to do. I've got to go home and learn how to play chess.'

‘Chess is sooooo boring,' complained Nanny Piggins.

She had been sitting in front of Mr Green's chess board, reading a book about how to play chess for all of four minutes.

‘It's based on the principles of warfare,' said Michael, ‘and you like warfare.'

‘Yes, but the fun thing about warfare is all the leaping about and yelling,' said Nanny Piggins. ‘But as far as I can see from reading this book there is no leaping about and yelling in chess at all.'

‘You could always give up,' said Derrick.

‘Don't be ridiculous,' said Nanny Piggins. ‘Not when there is a year's supply of cheesecake on the line.'

‘But maybe chess just isn't the thing for you,' said Samantha. ‘You can't be good at everything.'

‘Why not?' asked Nanny Piggins. ‘I always am good at everything. Name one thing I'm not brilliant at!'

‘Waiting patiently,' said Samantha.

‘Sitting still,' added Michael.

‘Listening quietly,' chipped in Derrick.

‘Thinking logically,' continued Samantha.

‘Arguing reasonably,' added Michael.

‘Eating vegetables,' said Derrick.

‘All right, all right!' said Nanny Piggins. ‘So there are a few things that I am slightly less good at. But they are all silly things that don't matter. I'm sure I'll be good at chess if I just wing it.'

‘I don't know, Nanny Piggins,' said Derrick. ‘There is a lot of strategy and tactics to chess. Maybe you should read a book or two.'

Nanny Piggins slumped across the table. ‘But I don't want to. They are such long, thick, dull books, with no pirates or penniless farm girls falling in love with dukes dressed as highwaymen. Plus
The Young and the Irritable
is on in six minutes and I'd much rather watch that.'

‘I suppose you could try winging it,' said Michael. (He wanted to watch
The Young and the Irritable
too.) ‘If chess is based on warfare then I'm sure you'll be a natural. You're better at attacking people than anyone I know.'

‘Thank you,' said Nanny Piggins, giving Michael an affectionate hug. ‘The trick is to attack them brutally when they don't deserve it.'

‘Don't you mean when they least expect it?' asked Samantha.

‘Exactly,' said Nanny Piggins. ‘And they least expect it when they don't deserve it.'

And so Nanny Piggins and the children watched television, then ate cake, then went down to the supermarket dressed as bullfighters. (The supermarket manager was not fooled by the outfits or the moustaches, but who was he to turn away such a loyal customer?) Then they did absolutely no preparation for the chess tournament. Except for carbo-loading. If eating lots of carbohydrates was good for marathon runners, Nanny Piggins felt sure it must be good for chess players too.

When they arrived at the community centre the next day, Nanny Piggins and the children were surprised. They expected the regional championships to have some grandeur – after all it was regional, and chess was a noble game. But nothing could be further from the truth. The folding picnic tables, plastic chess pieces and refreshments served in styrofoam cups could not be less impressive. The only thing less impressive than the surrounds was the players themselves.

‘I've never seen so many grown men wearing anoraks before,' marvelled Nanny Piggins.

‘It isn't even a cold day,' observed Derrick.

‘Do you think they are smuggling in something under their jackets?' guessed Nanny Piggins.

‘What? Like bombs?' asked Michael.

‘I was thinking better refreshments,' said Nanny Piggins, eyeing the stale pastries on the trestle table. It was rare for her to come across a baked product that even she could not get excited about.

‘Are you here to register for the competition?' asked a frumpy-looking man in a grey anorak and carrying a clipboard.

‘Yes, I am,' declared Nanny Piggins. ‘My name is Sarah Matahari Lorelai Piggins and I have come here to trounce you all and take home the year's supply of cheesecake.'

‘What's your rating?' asked the clipboard carrier, not looking up because he was too busy spelling Matahari.