Nanny Piggins and the Wicked Plan (13 page)

‘Good morning, future champions,’ she said, before whistling jauntily as she buttered her toast and ate just as many breakfast muffins as ever.

‘Aren’t you even the slightest bit nervous?’ asked Samantha.

‘When you’ve wrestled with Zulu warriors, given Chinese burns to saltwater crocodiles and played pin the tail on the donkey with a real donkey, then it takes more than just a few simple games to make you nervous,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘I’d rather wrestle a crocodile than go head-to-head with Nanny Anne,’ said Derrick.

‘Of course you would. That’s only natural.
Saltwater crocodiles are much nicer. But it is important to challenge yourself and confront your enemies,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘I thought you said it was best to run away from your enemies and eat cake,’ said Derrick, remembering something Nanny Piggins had made him commit to memory earlier.

‘True,’ agreed Nanny Piggins. ‘I did say that. But it is a pig’s prerogative to change her mind.’

After breakfast Nanny Piggins and the children left for the Westminster Nanny Show. They took Boris with them, partly because he begged to come along, and partly because Nanny Piggins thought it would be handy to have him there in case any of the judges caused trouble and needed to be sat on.

Nanny Piggins was surprised when they arrived at the venue. She was expecting the Westminster Nanny Show to be held in a church hall or the back room of a Rotary Club. She was not expecting the enormous forty-thousand seat arena they walked into. The stage area was lit up like a boxing ring. And the empty seats (soon to be filled by avid nannying fans) spread out into the darkness in every direction.

Nanny Piggins had assumed she would be
competing against a dozen silly nannies like Nanny Anne. She had not expected to meet the group of fifty-nine competitors gathered from all around the world.

Nor had she imagined that they would all want to have their photograph taken with her.

‘Piggins san o ai dekite koe desu!’ exclaimed the Japanese nannies as they bowed repeatedly. (This is Japanese for ‘Miss Piggins, it is a great honour to meet you.’)

‘Why do all these nannies know you?’ asked Derrick.

‘I suppose it’s because I write the occasional article for
Nannying Monthly
,’ explained Nanny Piggins. ‘I never realised that people actually read that magazine.’

But they did. And once word spread that
the
Nanny Piggins had entered the building, even more international nannies were rushing forward and asking Nanny Piggins for her autograph.

‘What do you say in these articles?’ asked Samantha suspiciously.

‘Well, mainly I tell them how stupid their magazine is and how all the articles in it are wrong,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘Are they?’ said Derrick.

‘Oh yes, they have these boring articles that go on for page after page about routines,’ explained Nanny Piggins.

‘Routines?’ asked Boris. ‘You mean like dance routines?’

‘No, that would make some sense. But these articles are about daily routines,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘They seem to think it is vitally important that children do exactly the same thing at exactly the same time every single day.’

‘What do they think happens if they don’t?’ asked Boris.

‘The child grows up to be a serial killer,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Or worse, an actor.’

‘What a bizarre theory,’ puzzled Boris.

‘Well, humans used to think the world was flat. They’re not a terribly bright species,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘So what do you suggest in your articles?’ asked Derrick.

‘I emphasise the basics. Lots of fresh air. Which is why you must never allow children to attend school five days in a row, because there’s no fresh air in a classroom,’ said Nanny Piggins. The children nodded, they had all heard this theory before. ‘And of course – diet. Children must never go on one. Because then
they’ll start talking about their diet. And nothing is more boring that someone talking about eating less.’

Just then a Swiss nanny came up to Nanny Piggins and shook her trotter. ‘Nanny Piggins, that article you wrote about letting children watch graphically violent movies in case they want to grow up to be ER doctors was the funniest thing I have ever read. Bravo!’

‘Why did she say “funniest”?’ asked Boris.

‘It must be a translation problem,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I don’t think people in Switzerland know what funny means. It’s all that alpine air. Not enough oxygen gets to their brains.’

But as the children looked about the room, they noticed that just seeing Nanny Piggins made the other nannies giggle, as they remembered the things she had written in the articles.

‘Nanny Piggins, I don’t think these nannies take your articles seriously,’ said Samantha.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘Well, they keep looking at you, pointing and laughing,’ explained Samantha.

‘They are laughing at me?!’ asked Nanny Piggins disbelievingly.

‘The fools,’ muttered Boris, looking about for somewhere to hide. He knew that no-one laughed at
Nanny Piggins without suffering dire consequences.

‘Well!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins. ‘I only came here to beat Nanny Anne and humiliate her in front of the entire world. But now, that’s it. I’m going to stick it to the lot of them. These nannies will never laugh at me again!’

The first competition was grooming. Fifty-nine nannies lined up ready to go, with their charges in front of them, all immaculately groomed. The idea was to present the child absolutely scrubbed spotless and perfectly ironed (the back of the ears were inspected with a microscope so the washing had to be really thorough).

Nanny Piggins was entering Samantha in the grooming competition. Samantha did not fancy her chances. The other nannies had been cleaning their children for weeks in preparation. Whereas Nanny Piggins only had ten minutes in a cleaner’s storage room. But having been a flying pig for many years Nanny Piggins knew how to get ready for a show, and a room full of solvents and industrial-strength cleaning equipment was the perfect place to do it. While the other nannies dabbed their children with
talcum powder, Nanny Piggins attacked Samantha with a whirlwind of machinery and chemicals.

Boris, Derrick and Michael were sitting with the crowd in the stands. All the seats in the stadium were now full, and there was an excited hum in the air as the nannies began to jog out into the arena with their children. Michael counted them as they came out. The first fifty-nine looked much the same. Neither the nannies nor the children had a hair out of place.

‘Where’s Nanny Piggins?’ asked Derrick.

‘I do hope she hasn’t run off with one of the catering vans,’ worried Boris. ‘She does have lapses of judgement when she is around truckloads of food.’

‘Here she comes!’ cried Michael excitedly, jumping up and down.

Nanny Piggins and Samantha had entered the arena. Whereas the other nannies had jogged sportily, Nanny Piggins and Samantha sashayed (Samantha did not look quite as comfortable doing this as Nanny Piggins, but she was putting in a good effort). And while all the other children were dressed in their school uniforms or Sunday best clothes, Samantha was dressed in the latest designer clothes from Paris.

‘Where did she get that dress?’ asked Derrick.

‘My sister is very good at sewing,’ explained
Boris. ‘She has a photographic memory for fashion. She only has to see an outfit once in a magazine and she can replicate it at a moment’s notice. All she needs is some thread and a few old potato sacks.’

‘Samantha actually looks … good,’ said Michael (which is really the finest compliment, because admitting their sister looks good are the hardest words for any brother to say).

A huge roar came from the crowd when it was announced that Nanny Piggins had won the Grooming Section. The judges did not really want to give it to her. But there was no denying Samantha was clean. (She even passed the microscope-behind-the-ears-test). And it would have been very petty of them not to give bonus points for making a designer French outfit in under ten minutes. (Some judges did briefly consider being petty – but were actually quite glad not to have to give it to Nanny Anne for the seventh year in a row.)

The next stage of the competition was Obedience. Now this was definitely the hardest part for Nanny Piggins because she barely knew what the word ‘obedience’ meant. And when she found out, she thought it was utterly unimportant. If she ever caught Derrick, Samantha and Michael doing exactly what she said, she would tell them off for not
using their imaginations. So to be ordering Derrick around in a stadium was like torture to her – it was like eating hot toast without buttering it.

The other fifty-nine nannies went first. And to Nanny Piggins’ eye she could not see any difference in any of their performances. The only way the judges could separate them was by getting out rulers and protractors to see if the children’s feet were perfectly aligned when they stood still. Or using a high-speed camera to see how many one-hundredths of a second it took the child to stop when their nanny said ‘stop’.

Nanny Piggins had no interest in obedience. And Derrick had no training in obedience. The only thing that gave them any chance against the other nannies was Derrick’s love. Because Derrick loved his nanny a thousand times more than any of the other children loved their hygiene-obsessed careworkers. So when it came to their turn to stand in the centre of the arena in front of forty-thousand spectators, Derrick tried that much harder, and cared that much more than any of the other children.

When Nanny Piggins said ‘stay’ he stayed, when she said ‘fetch’ he fetched, when she said ‘sit’ he sat. He did everything just as well as Samson Wallace, much to the fury of Nanny Anne. Nanny Piggins was
going to get an excellent mark for obedience. Because even using protractors and high-speed cameras, the judges could not fault Derrick’s obedience.

That was until halfway through when Nanny Piggins cracked.

‘I can’t take this anymore!’ she screamed. Derrick looked worried. He knew what to do when Nanny Piggins, said ‘sit’, ‘fetch’ or ‘stay’. But he did not know what to do when she screamed, ‘I can’t take this anymore!’

‘This is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of!!!’ ranted Nanny Piggins. ‘Obedience?!! I mean obedience?! What a ridiculous thing to …’ Nanny Piggins was interrupted mid-yell by Boris barging his way out of the crowd, grabbing her and dragging her off into the wings before she did something she regretted. So naturally Nanny Piggins did not get a very good mark for that part of the competition.

Having won the first event and come last in the second event, Nanny Piggins was coming thirtieth overall. Nanny Anne was coming first. (If the final event had been a smirking competition the trophy would have been hers already.) But the final event was the Obstacle Course. The only way Nanny Piggins could beat Nanny Anne now was if Michael completed the obstacle course in half the time of any other child.

Now, you must remember that the other children had done actual training on this obstacle course, for months in fact. Whereas Michael had spent the previous months enjoying his favourite hobby, which was sitting under a bush in the garden eating un-defrosted frozen cake. Plus, the kindest way to describe Michael’s physique would be to call him stout (and I dare not use any other word in case Nanny Piggins reads this book and comes to bite me). So lined up alongside all the other children who were whippet thin from being forced to get up and go jogging at 4 am every day, Michael looked out of place.

Nanny Piggins was optimistic until she saw the other children in action. Even she had to admit they were seriously good. To complete the obstacle course the children had to run through car tyres, swing across a mud pit, crawl through a tunnel and climb over a wall. And the way the other children performed they could have been an act in the circus. They leapt, ran and climbed with the agility of Chinese acrobats.

When Nanny Piggins’ turn came round she looked across at Michael. There were still smears of honey around his mouth from the snack he had been eating with Boris in the stands. At least he was not going to fail from lack of carbo-loading. For a
split second a thought crossed Nanny Piggins’ mind – that perhaps it was cruel to force this little boy to take part in such a potentially humiliating competition. Then Nanny Piggins had a brilliant idea.

Just as the judge raised the starting pistol in the air, ready to fire, Nanny Piggins leaned in and whispered something in Michael’s ear. Michael’s eyes bugged wide and as soon as he heard the gunshot he took off.

The people who saw Michael in the stands that night saw something they will never forget. In decades to come they will still be telling their grandchildren and great-grandchildren the story of the day they saw a boy move faster than the speed of light. Because Michael raced through that obstacle course like he had been bitten by a radioactive spider. He crawled through the tunnel, sprinted through the tyres, swung over the mud pit and leapt over the wall with grace and speed. He did not just do it in half the time of the other children, he did it in a third of the time.