Nanny McPhee and the Big Bang (14 page)

So saying, he pulled out his wallet once again and handed Mrs Green a bit extra. Then he got into the cart, and amidst much waving and shouting, drove off still giggling to himself about pigs doing synchronised swimming, which was the funniest thing he had ever heard, but you have to understand that he didn’t get out much.

‘Isn’t it wonderful, Phil?’ said Mrs Green, turning to show Phil the money – but he was no longer there.

Nanny McPhee smiled at her. ‘I am happy to say, Mrs Green, that Lesson Three – to help each other – is complete,’ she said.

‘Oh, how wonderful!’ said Mrs Green, staring rather hard at Nanny McPhee, who somehow didn’t seem quite so ugly today. Perhaps it had been the storm last night that made her look so threatening. At any rate, she certainly looked much better on a sunny day. Mrs Green turned to the triumphant children.

‘You are the best pig-catchers in all the –’ she stopped. She walked up to Celia, who was covered in mud. She stared at her with a little frown.

‘Is that my wedding dress?’ she asked finally.

Celia looked down at her toes, deeply ashamed.

‘I’m very sorry –’ she began.

But Megsie then interrupted. ‘It was our fault, Mum! We spoilt all her clothes and she had to wear something!’

Mrs Green stayed very still.

‘Where’s the veil?’ she asked.

Cyril was holding the veil, but where once it had been a lovely white gauzy thing, it was torn and tattered and grimy in his hands like an old bit of unravelled bandage. Mrs Green walked over and took it from him.

‘I’m sorry too,’ said Cyril, meaning it. ‘It’s just that we needed a net. To catch the piglets with. We put apples down and they came to eat them and we threw the net – I mean, the veil – over them and they couldn’t get out.’

There was a pause during which all the children wondered how they were going to be punished for having done such a dreadful thing to something so precious. Mrs Green looked at their stricken faces and then did something very brave. She swallowed her upset and her anger and she put a huge smile on her face, which took a lot of effort.

‘Well I never!’ she said. ‘What an incredibly clever thing to do! You’ve saved the harvest, my darlings! Let’s have a picnic to celebrate! We’ll do it tomorrow and we’ll use the extra pennies for ginger beer!’

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And everyone cheered and cheered.

You see, parents are very annoying a lot of the time, but they are great when they do things like that. I hope you are proud of Mrs Green, because I am.

Anyway, just at that moment, when the children were all happy and friendly together, the Rolls-Royce purred up to the gate. No one had heard it approaching, what with all the excitement, but there it was. Celia yelped with amazed delight. But Norman noticed that Cyril’s mouth suddenly turned downward and he frowned.

Celia was overcome with ecstasy. She jumped up and down and clapped her hands and said proudly to everyone, ‘Look! It’s Mummy. I told you she’d come! Mummy!’ she cried. ‘You’ll never guess what!’ and she ran up to the passenger door of the Rolls to tell her mother about the morning’s adventures.

‘We rescued these little piggies, and I wore wellingtons, and I ran about in the grass and everything but I got a bit dirty, I hope you won’t mind – look!’

Celia threw open the door. But there was no one there.

‘Mummy?’ she said, in a very small voice.

Blenkinsop, his uniform cleaned and ironed (or maybe he had two – who’s to know?) stepped up to Celia.

‘Her Ladyship is still in London, Miss Celia,’ he said.

‘Oh. I suppose she’s sent you to bring me home,’ said Celia, smiling uncertainly at the group behind her.

‘Regretfully not, Miss Celia,’ said Blenkinsop, thoroughly discomfited. ‘My only instructions was to bring you these pumps what you left behind. Fontarelli, I believe.’

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Blenkinsop handed Celia a pretty box. She took it without a word and, in order to disguise the fact that she was crying, held it high over her face and walked away. Just as she reached the gate, she threw the box into a pile of mud. And then she was gone. There was one of those dreadfully uncomfortable silences. Cyril looked at the faces around him and felt that they were pitying his sister. It made him very angry to think that, so, when Norman came forward and rather tentatively said, ‘Cyril –’ he flew off the handle.

‘We’re not some kind of freak show!’ he shouted. ‘Just leave us alone! You don’t know anything about us!’ And he marched off to find Celia.

‘Oh dear,’ said Mrs Green.

‘I’d best be off, ma’am,’ said Blenkinsop, his face a picture of misery.

‘Oh no, Mr Blenkinsop, can’t you stay for a cup of tea at least? It’s a long journey back,’ Mrs Green said kindly.

But Blenkinsop shook his head.

‘It’s not that I don’t want to,’ he explained glumly. ‘It’s just . . .’

Mrs Green knew. If he stopped even for a glass of water Lady Gray would have his guts for garters. Mrs Green nodded and the children waved him off, feeling rather sorry for him even though he got to drive such a dramatic vehicle. Mrs Green went off to pay up the tractor money, leaving the others in a sombre mood despite the morning’s triumph. Megsie wandered over to the big pile of mud and picked up the dirty shoebox.

Vincent went into the barn and found Cyril loitering by the Scratch-O-Matic, looking sulky.

‘I could scratch you if you like,’ said Vincent helpfully. But Cyril was in no mood to be helped by anyone and he stalked out of the barn with a curt ‘No, thanks’ to Vincent, who shrugged and got on to the machine sadly, since there were no longer any piglets to scratch.

Back in the house, Megsie had gone up to the bedroom to change her wet socks. She found Celia sitting on the edge of the bed. Celia had been crying, she knew, and was refusing to look at her. She stood at the door and thought for a moment. Then she came forward with the shoebox.

‘I picked this up,’ she said. ‘I thought you might want them.’

Celia sniffed. ‘I don’t care for them. You can have them if you like,’ she said carelessly.

Now Megsie was quite a wise person. She knew fine well that Celia was only behaving in that way because she was hurt, and everyone had seen her getting hurt, which is always unpleasant. So she realised that Celia probably didn’t mean it about her having the shoes. But she had never seen a fancy pair of shoes and she was very curious about them. So she sat down on the bed near Celia, but not too near, and opened the box. She couldn’t help gasping when she found what was underneath the cerise tissue paper. A pair of pink pumps, so dainty, so elegant, the sort of thing a young Cinderella would have worn before the Ugly Sisters came along. They were patent leather and they glowed in Megsie’s hands like a sunset. Celia glanced at Megsie’s rapt face. It made her feel better to think that Megsie liked the shoes.

‘No, really,’ she said. ‘You can keep them.’

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This time, Megsie heard something in Celia’s voice that meant she really
could
keep them and that Celia wasn’t just saying it. She thought for a moment and then stood up and opened the little chest that she kept her best things in. She got out her new corduroy trousers, a present from her parents last Christmas, and her Sunday shirt, which had embroidery on the collar. She went back and placed them next to Celia.

‘These are my best,’ she said. ‘But you’re used to smart things so you can have them for every day.’

Celia looked at her. They gave each other a small smile.

Meanwhile, the person feeling the saddest of all about the piglets was marching into the village with a face like thunder. Phil was furious. Curse those children! They’d undone his plan and rendered his night’s digging useless! He was getting more and more frightened about Miss Topsey and Miss Turvey coming back and carrying out their threat. Removing his kidneys! But he needed them! They processed waste products out of his body and were vital to sustain life!! He gulped as he walked and gnashed his teeth when he thought of how close he’d been to persuading Isabel to sign. He felt as though he were living in one of those nightmares that you can’t wake yourself from.

Just as he passed the alley where he’d first met the ladies, he heard a little ‘oo-oo’ noise, like a cuckoo. He froze. He looked to the right and to the left. Nothing. He looked in front and behind. Again, nothing. Then he heard the noise again, above him. He looked up, half expecting to see Miss Topsey and Miss Turvey hanging from the tree branches like a couple of gigantic, blood-sucking bats. But there, in the tree, was a lovely little bird, its head cocked to one side as it sang ‘oo-oo’ sweetly at him. Phil gave a sob of relief and turned back, walking straight into the majestic bosom of Miss Turvey.

‘Hello, Phil,’ she said. ‘Have you missed me?’

The Diary 19

We’ve been shooting in the bedroom today. It’s upstairs. It is therefore higher up than the kitchen set and, as you all know, heat rises. It is sunny. All the lamps are on. It is 44°C up there. The crew are all pink and panting, and the children, who are in pyjamas and under bedclothes have to be sponged down at regular intervals. I am in full costume so I won’t even tell you what it’s like in there, except to say that it smells like something died.

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I discovered that one of our excellent Runners (see Glossary), whom I have been calling Lauren for the past few weeks, is in fact called Laura.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I shriek, aghast.