The Nanny Piggins Guide to Conquering Christmas (8 page)

When the children rushed to look over the edge they were relieved to discover Nanny Piggins had caught the branch of a tree. (She had been watching
Robin Hood
and had seen Errol Flynn do something very similar, so she had been secretly practising leaping out of her second-storey bedroom window all week.) She then climbed down the tree and rushed over to Santa.

The children hurried back into the attic, ran down the stairs and out through the house to help her (which only took three seconds more, but was nowhere near as impressive).

‘Is he all right?’ asked Derrick.

‘Well he’s breathing,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘but just look at him! He’s wearing a red jacket with red trousers! His dress sense is in serious trouble.’

‘Maybe that’s fashionable at the North Pole,’ suggested Boris.

‘Looking silly isn’t fashionable anywhere,’ said Nanny Piggins firmly, ‘unless you’re a clown and then it is an unfortunate occupational requirement.’

‘Check his pupils,’ suggested Samantha.

‘His what-whats?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘The black part of his eyes,’ explained Derrick.

‘Why?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘That’s what they always do on TV medical dramas,’ explained Samantha.

‘Then it must be right,’ decided Nanny Piggins. She pulled up each of Santa’s eyelids and had a look at his eyes. (This was easy to do because she had been eating toffee so her trotters were sticky and it was easy to get a good grip on his eyelashes.) ‘Mmm,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Yep, they definitely look like eyes.’

‘Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?’ asked Michael.

‘We could,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘but they would only call the police. And you know the Police Sergeant made me promise I would not make any more citizen’s arrests this week.’

Nanny Piggins had tried arresting the Post Mistress at their local post office, arguing that the length of her queues were a cruel and unusual punishment, and that since torture had been outlawed under the Geneva Convention, the Post Mistress clearly should be thrown in jail.

‘You don’t want me to spend Christmas Day in jail, do you?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘You spent Easter in jail and you said you enjoyed it,’ Derrick reminded her.

Nanny Piggins had been arrested after hurling herself at an Easter bunny in the shopping centre and wrestling him to the ground. In the end she was let off because, as she told the judge, ‘The Easter Bunny only had himself to blame. Dressing up in a full-sized bunny suit and handing out free chocolate is like dressing-up as a zebra and standing in the lion enclosure at the zoo.’

‘Yes, but I got to eat all the Easter Bunny’s chocolate before I was arrested,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I haven’t had my Christmas lunch yet. And you promised to make the most wonderful Christmas lunch ever, so I don’t want to miss that.’

‘We can’t leave Santa unconscious and lying on the footpath on Christmas Eve night,’ said Derrick. ‘What are we going to do with him?’

‘Isn’t it obvious?!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins.

‘No,’ said the children.

‘I may not know a lot about celebrating Christmas, but I have watched every Christmas movie and television special ever made,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘So I know that when Santa falls ill, or sprains his ankle, or is kidnapped, it is the job of the first person who finds out to take over and do his job.’

‘What are you saying?’ asked Samantha. (Samantha actually knew exactly what Nanny Piggins was saying, but she was desperately hoping she was wrong.)

‘I shall be Santa Claus and deliver presents to all the boys and girls of the world!’ declared Nanny Piggins.

‘All the
good
boys and girls,’ corrected Boris.

‘No, I’m going to give presents to the bad children as well. Unlike Santa I believe in positive reinforcement,’ explained Nanny Piggins. ‘If they’re behaving badly and you want them to improve, you have to use the carrot as well as the stick.’

‘But you always say you’d rather be hit by a stick than have to eat a carrot,’ argued Michael.

‘Just because the expression doesn’t make any sense doesn’t make it any less true,’ said Nanny Piggins sternly. ‘Now help me get Santa inside.’

‘Do you want me to carry him?’ asked Boris.

‘No, I think we’d better drag him,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘He’s a heavy one and I’d hate for you to get a hernia on the night before Christmas. Especially when you promised to perform the entire
Nutcracker
ballet for us after lunch tomorrow.’

And so Nanny Piggins, Boris and the children dragged Santa inside (only banging his head three times on the edge of the garden path and once on the telephone table in the hallway).

‘What next?’ asked Samantha. ‘Are you going to put on Santa’s clothes?’

‘First of all,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘it would be highly impertinent to undress the man. He’s got a head injury, so I’d find it very hard to justify to the Police Sergeant why I took his trousers off. And secondly, I would never wear such an unflattering outfit.’

The children looked at Santa. Nanny Piggins did have a point. Bright red was not very slimming.

‘It’s almost as if he’s proud to have a weight problem!’ continued Nanny Piggins. ‘In this day and age, when everyone is so concerned about childhood obesity, he is hardly a good role model. No, if I am going to be Santa Claus, I am sure I can find something much more glamorous to wear.’

And so Nanny Piggins dashed upstairs and disappeared into her bedroom. She reappeared five minutes later wearing a fabulous off-the-shoulder crimson ball gown, which was perfectly accessorised by two beautiful dangling earrings that Nanny Piggins had made out of two chocolate Santas. (Chocolate Christmas tree decorations never actually made it to the tree in the Green house.)

‘Right, hand me Santa’s sack, I’m off to deliver presents,’ announced Nanny Piggins.

The children did not know what to say. They could have said ‘Are you out of your mind?’ or ‘How are you going to climb down a chimney dressed in that?’ But they realised it would be much more fun watching Nanny Piggins try to climb down a chimney dressed in a ball gown. So Derrick simply said, ‘Here you are,’ as he handed his nanny the sack. Then they dutifully followed behind her as she carried it out into the street.

‘Where shall we deliver presents first?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

There were not a lot of children living in the street (one of the chief reasons for Mr Green choosing to live in the neighbourhood).

‘Mrs Roncoli’s grandchildren are staying with her,’ suggested Samantha. ‘Julia is five and Raymond is two.’

‘Perfect,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘And I know for a fact that Mrs Roncoli baked a Dundee cake this morning, so perhaps we can have a slice of cake while we’re in there.’

‘Wouldn’t that be wrong?’ asked Derrick.

‘We’re breaking into her house!’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘If she catches us, she’s not going to quibble about a slice of cake.’

Nanny Piggins, Boris and the children crossed the street and let themselves in through Mrs Roncoli’s front gate. Then they stood back and watched Nanny Piggins. They should have realised that their nanny was not going to let a little thing like an ankle-length satin ball gown hamper her athleticism. She just hitched the hem of her skirt up into her undies and scampered up the drainpipe like a monkey.

Next it was the children’s turn to get up on the roof, and since Derrick, Samantha and Michael had no circus training, this was not so simple. But the children found that if they climbed up Boris and stood on his head (which he did not mind), they were high enough to grasp Nanny Piggins’ trotter. Then she could pull them up, one at a time, to join her.

Pulling Boris up was going to be a little bit harder, what with him weighing 700 kilograms and not being able to stand on his own head. But the problem was solved when Nanny Piggins told him she thought she saw a bee by his left foot, and he simply leapt up onto the roof without any help from anyone.

Nanny Piggins, Boris and the children then made their way over to the chimney and peered over the edge. It was very dark and black inside.

‘I’m going to throw the presents down first,’ said Nanny Piggins, emptying her sack into the chimney. ‘That way they can break my fall.’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like us to fetch a rope so we can lower you down?’ offered Michael.

‘Pish!’ said Nanny Piggins, as she climbed up on the chimney stack. ‘There’s no time for that. I have a whole planet’s worth of toys to deliver. Wish me luck!’ And with one last wave to the children she dived headfirst down the chimney. The children heard nothing for a moment . . . then the distinctive sound of a pig falling headfirst onto a pile of toys.

‘Ow!’ said Nanny Piggins

‘Are you all right?’ called Derrick, his voice echoing down the chimney.

‘Yes,’ replied Nanny Piggins. ‘Although in hindsight I probably should have only thrown the soft toys down first. A scale model of the Taj Mahal does not make for a very soft landing.’

‘Can you see the Christmas stockings?’ asked Michael.

‘I can’t see anything, it’s too dark down here,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘No, hang on, I can’t see anything because my skirt is over my head. I’ll just adjust that . . . Wait a minute, there’s no way out! There are bricks on all four sides.’

‘I didn’t like to say anything earlier, Sarah,’ said Boris, leaning over the chimney, ‘but Mrs Roncoli did get a gas heater installed last month. You remember, you made the workmen lend you their van so you could get even more chocolate than usual from the sweet shop.’

‘What’s your point?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘I’m pretty sure that to install a gas heater you first have to brick-up the fireplace,’ explained Boris.

‘Well of all the . . .’ Nanny Piggins muttered a few very rude things that I cannot repeat here in print. But the gist of it was – she was not impressed that Mrs Roncoli had failed to explain the full details of her renovation plans to Nanny Piggins both personally and in writing.

‘What are we going to do?’ worried Samantha.

‘I’m going to give Mrs Roncoli a piece of my mind,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘But how are you going to get out of there?’ asked Derrick.

Nanny Piggins looked up at Boris and the children twenty feet above as they stared down the chimney at her.

‘Hmmm,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘What are you thinking?’ asked Boris.

‘I was just thinking . . . that from the inside, a chimney is an awful lot like a cannon,’ said Nanny Piggins.

Twenty minutes later the children were standing a safe distance away on the far side of the street as Boris rolled out the last of the fuse wire.

‘This is safe, isn’t it?’ asked Samantha.

‘Well, I wouldn’t say it was safe,’ admitted Boris (he was an honest bear). ‘If anyone else tried it I’m sure it would go horribly wrong. But at the circus, Nanny Piggins used to get blasted out of a cannon seven times a night. So this will be a walk in the park for her.’

Boris lit the fuse.

‘You know we could just knock on Mrs Roncoli’s door and explain what happened,’ said Derrick, beginning to panic.

‘Or lower a rope down and pull her out,’ suggested Michael.

‘Ooh, that is a good idea,’ said Boris. ‘It’s a shame it’s too late now. Look, the fuse is almost there.’

The children watched in horror as the fuse disappeared into the chimney.

‘Cover your ears,’ advised Boris.

Derrick, Samantha and Michael only just got their hands to their ears before they were shaken by the huge blast. The shock waves knocked Derrick and Samantha off their feet (they would have knocked Michael off his feet too except he was standing right in front of Boris and it is hard to go anywhere when there is a 700-kilogram bear right behind you). Then they saw a streak of crimson rocket up into the sky with the distant cry of ‘Yippeeeeeeeeeee!’ from Nanny Piggins as she flew up into the stratosphere.

‘Oh my goodness, how is she going to land?!’ exclaimed Samantha. ‘We didn’t rig up a safety net.’

‘She’ll be fine,’ said Boris confidently.

‘What do you mean she’ll be fine?!’ said Derrick. ‘Gravity causes a body to accelerate at 9.8 metres per second. If she goes a thousand metres in the air that means she will hit the ground going –’ Derrick struggled to do the maths in his head.