Nanny McPhee and the Big Bang (22 page)

Our fabulous Mr Green is on set to do a flashback scene (he’s a bit of a secret so I’m saying nothing here about who it is) and being as gorgeous and funny and loving and great as Mr Green could ever be. All the females on set are trembling slightly. Bit like releasing a particularly genetically suitable bull into a herd of slightly somnolent cows. We’ve all woken up a bit and are milling about, mooing at each other and preening.

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August 1st: We’ve all just had two days off and are feeling rather chipper! Ralph Fiennes is in giving his Lord Gray (we sometimes say ‘give’ instead of ‘play’ – I don’t know why, it’s an acting term, I suppose). He is wonderful. Chilling and full of internal pains and conflict and buried emotions. He and I spent lunchtime discussing Pasolini’s film
Salo
, which seemed to be all about poo. I feel rather ill now. It might also be because the family left for hols in Scotland this morning and I am alone in the house with Oatcake the hamster.

Went to set glumly and was greatly cheered by Ed Stoppard (Lieutenant Addis) and Ralph and the boys (Asa and Eros) being brilliant in the scene. Rhys is back, his foot all better – hurrah! When I first saw him in his wig and costume I didn’t actually recognise him. Peter King and Jackie Durran deserve medals for that creation.

August 4th: Weather out here is so bad that we’ve moved the entire unit back to Shepperton. Ghastly business – everyone has to pack up their gear, tons and tons of it, and load it on to lorries and trucks and then drive and unload it and set it all up again, crossly, and then have half an hour to shoot what we needed the whole day for. It’s no fun and it makes everyone incredibly grumpy. I feel that I may be shooting this film for the rest of my life, and I’m not the only one. Susanna had to wave her girls off the other day too. I’ve told her she can borrow Oatcake if she gets too lonely. He’s quite a laugh, if you like that sort of thing. Filming is even worse for directors because they have to be there before everything starts and after everything stops FOR AGES, sorting out the day or watching the stuff we’ve shot. It is a brutal schedule.

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August 6th: Oh dear. Was mucking about on the picnic set, trying to make the children laugh, saw a cricket bat and, thinking it was the rubber one that Vinnie uses in the first bit of the story, proceeded to hit myself very hard in the face with it. It wasn’t the rubber one and I now have a very sore face. Mind you, they laughed. Luckily I didn’t bruise, so even though I complained like anything, as soon as they realised nothing was going to show, everyone lost interest and ignored me.

August 8th: Doing all Phil’s scenes with Topsey and Turvey, which is complete fun. We’re filming outside on the Getty estate, which is so beautiful and peaceful. Went home, talked to Oatcake, watched two French films, picked up fallen damsons and collected cucumbers from the greenhouse. Nice things to do.

August 10th: You see, what no one
tells
you about jackdaws is that they
smell
.

I think it’s all the raw meat they eat. All the birds have been fantastic. I started training with them in February (they live at Leavesden, which is where all the Harry Potters are filmed) and, like I said, they remember everything. Such clever creatures. They’re not like pets or anything, you can’t stroke them, but you can talk to them and they will talk back, and once they get on to my shoulder, they’ll stay there for ages, just chatting away. I’m very fond of them all, but particularly the youngest whose name is Al. He has a most endearing personality and a cheeky look in his eye.

We’re shooting somewhere called Hambledon soon. Apparently someone called Lady Hambledon wants to say hello to me – she must own the place . . .

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Bill Bailey is back today with a horse and wagon. The horse is huge and doesn’t look like a horse at all. Bill says it is not, in fact, a horse but a giant bulldog in a horse costume. There were fireworks outside my hotel window last night so didn’t get to sleep until late. I am so tired today that I lay down at lunch and didn’t move a muscle for an hour and a half. Apparently there are only fourteen more shooting days. Can’t be true. We are nearly finished. But all the stuff we have yet to shoot is HUGE so it’s not just a matter of mopping up little bits here and there. Martin, our First AD, will leave next week – a holiday that can’t be cancelled. Several folk are dropping away as we go on into the summer, because no one foresaw we would shoot for quite this long. Even I will have to leave two days before the bitter end, which feels most odd and like some awful betrayal of everyone.

August 12th, I think: We’re shooting the picnic scene so, of course, it’s raining. The Art Department have finally got the cowpat right. I wrote this sentence in the script: Mrs Docherty spies a big cowpat.

‘Oh look!’ she says. ‘How thoughtful! You’ve put out cushions!’

I didn’t describe the cowpat in any great detail, but I saw in my head one of those round things with a dip in the middle that really could be mistaken for a brown cushion if you couldn’t see very well and were slightly bonkers, both of which apply to Mrs Docherty. But the first cowpat that arrived was – well, it was terribly realistic, of course, because we have a brilliant Art Department, who went and looked at lots of real cowpats and produced an exact replica. Anyway, it was green, with bits of stuff sticking out here and there, and Maggie Smith took one look at it and said, ‘You must be joking! I wouldn’t sit on that – it looks like a pile of sick.’ We all laughed heartily of course, except the Art Department, who had to go away and make a new one. Susanna is going to take pictures of her cowpats at home (she lives on a dairy farm) to make sure that we are getting it right. This new one is perfect and looks as though it would be very comfy if you sat on it.

The cowpat’s all right, but Simon (our sound maestro) has brought in his brand-new sound machine with sixteen tracks on it because there are ten people in this scene – and it’s broken. We are DOOMED.

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The Story 25

Everyone whirled around to see Norman standing in the doorway looking very stern and pointing an accusing finger at Phil. Flanking him were Cyril and Nanny McPhee looking equally grave.

‘Norman!’ cried Mrs Green. ‘Where on earth have you been?’

This was Norman’s big moment – he’d thought about it from the moment the awful telegram had arrived and he’d known it was false and he’d wanted to shout it then but knew he couldn’t, but now he had proof and he could. He took a deep breath.

‘Mum – Dad’s alive.’

Vincent breathed in sharply. ‘What?’ he said, in a tiny squeaky voice.

‘Dad’s alive and I can prove it.’

Mrs Green sat down very suddenly. Luckily there was a chair behind her so she didn’t fall on the floor.

‘How?’ she said, very quietly.

Norman walked over to her. ‘Cyril and I went to the War Office in London with Nanny McPhee. We saw Cyril’s dad and found out that Dad was M.I.A.’

‘That means Missing In Action,’ said Cyril helpfully.

‘And we found out something else – no telegram was ever sent – the one we got was forged!’

‘Exactly!’ cried Phil with relief. ‘And I forged it! I’m an evil forger! There’s your crime! Now will you arrest me?’

But Mr Spolding was gazing with admiration at Norman and Mrs Green, who had tears in her eyes that made them shine even brighter.

‘Norman – how did you know Dad was still alive?’ she asked.

‘I could feel it in my bones,’ said Norman, without hesitation.

Mrs Green looked at him for a long moment.

‘Then it must be true,’ she said, getting up and hugging him to her chest. ‘Thank you, my darling, thank you, thank you.’

And then some of the tears fell on top of Norman’s head but he didn’t notice them.

‘And Cyril! Thank Cyril too!’ he said, somewhat indistinctly.

Mrs Green cried, ‘Oh, Cyril darling, come here!’

And he did, and Mrs Green hugged him to the other side and nearly suffocated them both, and Mr Spolding wept a small tear as well, because he was so happy to hear that lovely Rory Green was alive.

‘Didn’t you hear?’ shrieked Phil, clutching at Mr Spolding’s arm. ‘I’m a forger, a villainous forger! Arrest me, please, before it’s too late!!!’

But Mr Spolding had started to consult his pamphlet.

‘Leave it, Phil,’ he said, crossly. ‘There’s a bomb out there what needs dealing with.’

This was the first the boys had heard of it. Everyone went to the window again.

‘It’s a UXB!’ said Cyril.

‘They know,’ said Celia. ‘I just told them.’

‘It could go off at –’

‘They know that too,’ said Celia, patiently. ‘We’ve been through all that. The question is – what do we do now?’

‘Don’t we run away?’ said Vincent, looking concerned.

‘No!’ said Norman. ‘It’s right in the middle of the barley! If it goes off, the whole harvest will be destroyed! Mr Spolding! What does it say in the book?’

Mr Spolding held up a finger and read out the following:

‘“Defusing your bomb. Four Simple Steps to an Explosion-Free day.”’

‘Can’t you at least cuff me?’ said Phil, despairingly. ‘So as they see I’m under arrest? They won’t be able to touch a person who’s in custard and cuffs!’

‘Here, Phil, do it yourself,’ said Mr Spolding, throwing him a pair of handcuffs. ‘I’ve got work to do.’ And with that he walked out of the door towards the bomb.

‘Shouldn’t we help him?’ said Norman worriedly.