Nanny McPhee Returns (8 page)

The Story 14

In the best parlour, the violence was escalating. Vincent was still bashing at the furniture with his cricket bat but being careful not to dent anything too precious. Megsie now had Celia in a fireman’s lift and was smacking her bottom with the fire-tongs while Norman and Cyril were busy pushing each other’s heads into the wall.

The door opened and in glided Nanny McPhee. No one took much notice. Norman flung her a glance and managed to grunt out a ‘Who are YOU?’ before being slammed on to the sofa.

‘I am Nanny McPhee,’ replied the ghastly-looking stranger. ‘Please listen carefully. You are all to stop what you are doing and go upstairs to bed.’

Now, it was an odd thing, because although Nanny McPhee spoke far too softly to be heard above the din, nonetheless every word dropped into each child’s ear as clear as a silver bell.

But did they do what they were told?

Of course they didn’t! They were far too busy fighting and screaming.

‘Did you hear what I said?’

Again, they heard it, every single word. But Norman just yelled, ‘Ha! A nanny for the namby-pamby townies!’ before proceeding to kick Cyril hard in the shins.

Nanny McPhee gazed at them all and narrowed her eyes. Her long black cloak moved and from underneath it she produced a strange, knobbly stick.

Raising it, she brought it down to the floor with a sharp bang that seemed to echo through the house. The children were far too busy to notice the golden sparks that spattered from the bottom of the stick and escaped under the door. But they did all stop, just for a second, to stare at her.

‘Was that supposed to impress us?’ Cyril sneered. Nanny McPhee looked at him expressionlessly. He shrugged his shoulders and raised a fist to thump Norman.

And then the oddest thing occurred. Instead of thumping Norman, his fist, as though in the grip of an invisible puppeteer, twisted at the end of his arm and tried to thump
him
, missing twice before grabbing his own collar and throwing him to the floor.

Cyril, winded by the fall and the surprise, just lay there panting, with his eyes as round as golf balls. Norman sniggered and pointed. Cyril’s hand then yanked Cyril about and thwacked him hard on the head. Now Norman laughed out loud as everyone else stared in astonishment.

‘What on
earth
are you doing, Cyril?’ said Celia, as, very suddenly, Norman clutched his own ear and pulled himself across the room squealing with pain.

Even if Cyril had been in any position to answer her, Celia would not have noticed. She was too busy grabbing her own hair and pulling it very hard. Her eyes were screwed up so tight against the stinging that she didn’t even notice Megsie hitting her own bottom hard with the fire-tongs and yelping, ‘It’s happening to me too!’

Meanwhile, Vincent, his eyes like saucers, suddenly felt the cricket bat twitch in his hand. He stared at it apprehensively. Very suddenly it jerked itself up into the air and came down very hard on the best mahogany table, giving it a terrific dent.

‘Oh no!!’ cried Vincent, trying to drop the bat. But it seemed stuck fast to his hands and now he started to go about the room whacking and whacking and whacking whatever got in the way. Ornaments went flying, crockery smashed and Vincent, terrified, started to yell, ‘Stop, stop, stop, stop!!!’ at the top of his voice.

Hearing Vincent, the other children yelled as well. ‘Stop!’ Norman shrieked as he shoved his own head into the horn of the gramophone player, and ‘Stop!’ shouted Celia as she yanked out handfuls of her own hair, and ‘Stop!’ screamed Cyril as he rhythmically head-banged a footstool and ‘Please stop!’ howled Megsie as she smacked her cheeks in turn until they were bright pink.

Oh, it was awful. And during all this, Nanny McPhee stood quietly, calmly, just watching. I don’t know which one it was who worked out that she must have caused this peculiar and painful behaviour, but suddenly all the children were looking at her and begging her to stop them.

‘Please stop us!!’ they cried.

‘On one condition,’ said Nanny McPhee. ‘That you apologise for hurting each other and promise to stop fighting.’

Almost immediately, Norman yelled, ‘Never!’

Nanny McPhee raised her monobrow.

‘Never!’ shouted Cyril. ‘They started it!’

‘Never!’ cried Megsie, but not with much conviction. Celia didn’t shout at all – she was staring in horror at the pile of hair growing at her feet.

‘Granny’s little shepherdess!’ shouted Vincent, heartbroken as all his family’s beloved knick-knacks were smashed by the merciless cricket bat. Behind him lay a trail of china – Mrs Green’s best tea service was completely destroyed and Vincent was almost in tears. But something much worse was about to occur. The bat was pulling him towards the fireplace and the mantelpiece.

WHACK!
it went and the first part of the mantelpiece started to crack. There, at the other end, was the little blue bundle of Dad’s precious letters, tied with a ribbon.

‘No! NO, no, no!!! Dad’s letters! They’re going to get burnt!’

Norman and Megsie looked. Sure enough, the letters were beginning to slide down the broken mantelpiece and would be in the flames in seconds.

Megsie panicked. ‘All right!! I apologise! I’m sorry I hurt you, Celia! I promise to stop fighting!’

Norman’s pride was very strong, but the letters from his father were too important. They were all they had and if his father were never to return – but that was too painful a thought, more painful even than the thought of apologising to the invaders. ‘I’m sorry too! I’m sorry, Cyril – I promise to stop fighting!’ he blurted out. Then all the children started shouting at once, begging and begging Nanny McPhee to stop them. Only Cyril stubbornly refused to speak.

Nanny McPhee said, very quietly, ‘All of you.’

Now everyone turned towards Cyril and started shrieking at him. The loudest of all was Celia.

‘Cyril, apologise NOW OR I’LL END UP BALD!!’

Cyril wound his tie around his own neck and started to yank it backwards and forwards. He was tired and in pain and he was fond of his sister and genuinely concerned about the bald patches appearing on her skull. He started to apologise but it was too late. ‘NOOOOO!!’ cried all the Green children, twisting around to watch the precious letters as they plummeted towards the flames.

BANG!

The stick came down again. Everything froze except for Nanny McPhee. She was about to cross the room to gather up the letters, which were suspended above the frozen flames, when something suddenly swooped into the room from an open window and snatched the letters up in its beak, delivering them to Nanny McPhee before standing at her feet looking up at her with an expression of intense longing. It was the raggedy jackdaw. Nanny McPhee eyed him beadily.

‘What on earth are you doing in here, Mr Edelweiss? I thought I told you to stop following me.’

The jackdaw squawked. Nanny McPhee tutted irritably.

‘No, you most certainly are not forgiven. You know what you did. Now make yourself scarce.’

Uttering a mournful squawk, the jackdaw flew out of the window. Nanny McPhee banged her stick, this time very gently. The frozen children started to move again. They stared at their hands, at each other, at the room, which had been entirely restored to perfect condition and, finally, at Nanny McPhee. No one noticed that one of her big, spidery warts had disappeared.

‘It is rude to stare,’ she said. ‘Upstairs to bed, please.’

Too shocked and too relieved to speak, the children all filed out past her into the kitchen. Pausing only to replace the letters on the mantelpiece, Nanny McPhee followed them.

The Diary 15

Been on set for three hours in the full Nanny costume including the cape. Everything hurts. Teeth, jaw, shoulders, back. Standing becomes tricky because my chest and ribs get pressured by the weight of it all and I can’t breathe very well. It’s a Wednesday.

Later. Utterly miserable. I am NEVER doing this again.

Later: Greg has come to calm me down. I was about to burst into tears – which would have been DISASTROUS and VERY EXPENSIVE because we’d have had to STOP and REDO the make-up, when he appeared in the doorway and made me laugh instead. Susanna is very grateful and so am I. The most grateful person is Paula, who is going to buy him a beer later. Even so, my nose DID melt and had to be replaced. Had to keep taking everything off to breathe for a bit and put it all back on. Still, at least I’m not playing a Klingon. It’s very, very hot and the children have been majestic.

The Story 15

Chapter Thirty-Seven. (Oh all right, it can’t be, but I don’t know how to do chapters. This is my first book. Why does one have to chop up a story into chunks? Is it just to give you an excuse to put the book down? That doesn’t seem right. It’s a new bit anyway – you decide if you want it to be a new chapter.)

Back in the kitchen, time was playing odd tricks, for as soon as Mrs Green had got the teapot down from the dresser, the children came quietly out of the sitting room and past her up the stairs. Nanny McPhee had only just gone in, Mrs Green thought, and so she almost dropped the teapot. When she saw the state of the children, she had to sit down. It was impossible! They were all clean and tidy! They were saying goodnight to her, very politely, and, most miraculous of all, they had stopped fighting!! Nanny McPhee came out too and stood staring at her with an odd little smile at the corner of her mouth.

‘These children need five lessons, Mrs Green. Lesson One – to stop fighting – is complete.’

Mrs Green gulped.

‘Early beds tonight, I think. Leave it to me. You should have a little time to yourself,’ said Nanny McPhee, noiselessly following the last child up to the bedroom.

Mrs Green gulped again. Time to herself? She couldn’t remember when anything like that had last happened. She sat for one more astonished moment before leaping to her feet and rushing headlong into the bathroom.

In the bedroom, the children were grouped in two corners of the room, regarding each other in hostile silence. No one quite understood exactly what had happened or
how
it had happened, and no one would dare to fight again, but they were still mortal enemies. Nanny McPhee glided into the room and eyed them all beadily. Then she cleared her throat. Everyone looked at her. The stick was nowhere to be seen.

‘I am going to explain to you the way I work,’ she said.

‘That’ll take some doing,’ muttered Cyril.

‘Do try and remember this,’ she continued, ignoring Cyril. ‘When you need me but do not want me, then I must stay. When you want me but no longer need me, then I have to go.’

The children frowned. Then Cyril, who was good at being rude when the occasion demanded it, said what they were all thinking.

‘How could anyone possibly ever want
you
?’

Instead of being cross, Nanny McPhee gazed at him equably. ‘Well, it’s an odd thought, I grant you, but there it is,’ she said. ‘Now, to business. In the absence of any spare beds, Norman, I presume, will be sharing with Cyril?’

‘I’d rather share with a goat,’ said Norman immediately.

‘A goat wouldn’t have you,’ retorted Cyril.

‘I see,’ said Nanny McPhee calmly. ‘Megsie, Celia – would you be willing to share?’

‘I’d rather share with Geraldine,’ snapped Megsie.

‘She’s our cow,’ explained Vincent helpfully, busy wondering what he’d rather share his bed with.

‘I’m not sharing anything with that vicious harpy!’ said Celia.

‘And I’d rather share with an elephant!’ crowed Vincent, happy to have made a decision. Next to pigs, elephants were his favourite.

‘Thank you, Vincent, but you will not be required to share, owing to the size of your bed. The rest of you, however, will have to come to some arrangement.’

‘Never!’ said Norman,

‘Never!’ said Megsie,

‘Never!’ said Celia,

‘Never!’ said Cyril,

and

‘NEVER!’ yelled Vincent, delighted to have the last word for once.

Nanny McPhee frowned. The cloak began to move aside. Uh-oh.

Downstairs, time had been playing funny tricks again, for Mrs Green had had half an hour to have a proper bath and wash her hair. She hadn’t been able to have more than a two-minute wash for what felt like months and she felt like a new woman. She looked up the stairs anxiously. All was silent. Except – wait, no, she’d heard a sort of a thud. Well, more like the echo of a thud, more like a little tremor through the house. Then she saw two little golden sparks pattering down the stairs. She rubbed her eyes. When she opened them, the sparks were gone. How odd, she thought. That bath’s relaxed me so much I’m seeing things. Perhaps this new nanny was just what they all needed. She was a bit – well – ugly, to be sure, but her results were nothing short of –

‘Ahem.’

Mrs Green jumped and found Nanny McPhee in front of her holding a lantern.

‘Lesson Two – to share nicely – is complete,’ she said.

‘What? I mean, how? I mean – that’s a miracle – how on earth – how
did
you do it, Nanny McPhee?’ said Mrs Green.

‘I’m afraid that’s classified information, Mrs Green,’ said Nanny McPhee, walking towards the kitchen door. ‘The army is very strict about such matters.’

‘Oh yes, yes, of course,’ said Mrs Green, feeling slightly ashamed to have asked at all. ‘The thing is,’ she went on, very fast so that Nanny McPhee wouldn’t leave, ‘we can’t afford to pay you and we haven’t any spare beds but –’

‘Please do not trouble yourself, Mrs Green,’ said Nanny McPhee. ‘The army remunerates me and I have arranged my own accommodation. Goodnight, Mrs Green. Pleasant dreams.’

And with that, the kitchen door quietly opened and Nanny McPhee slid silently out. Mrs Green put her fist into her mouth and bit it. No, she was awake. She hadn’t just had an amazing dream about an ugly, free nanny or the fact that she’d had time to wash her ears in the bath. Sighing with contentment, she lifted her tea and took a lovely, long gulp.

Back in the bedroom – and this will come as no surprise – the children were in bed with their teeth brushed. Megsie and Celia were head-to-toe, as were Norman and Cyril. They were all absolutely furious and determined not to sleep a wink until such time as they could either escape or complain to their mother about the Big Warty Person who was making them do things they didn’t want to do. They stared at each other hatefully. Vincent was also being unpleasant, jumping up and down upon his truckle-bed singing, ‘I don’t have to sha-are, I don’t have to sha-are!’

Then something very odd happened. The bedroom door opened and the Green family’s cow, Geraldine, walked calmly in and climbed into bed with Megsie and Celia.

The children were so astonished they couldn’t speak, but then Megsie got a hoof in her ear and she slapped Geraldine crossly. Geraldine mooed at her just as crossly and flicked her tail into Celia’s face.

‘Ugh! Get OUT!’ said Celia, but something deep within her was already saying, ‘This cow’s going nowhere. You might as well try to get some sleep.’

As the girls tried to arrange themselves around Geraldine’s large and ungainly frame, in walked the goat, Alphonse. He was called Alphonse because it sounded French and the Greens knew that the French had invented perfume and Alphonse had a very strong smell. He, of course, got into bed with Norman and Cyril. The stench was indescribable. The boys kicked and squirmed and tried to push Alphonse out and tried to get out of the bed themselves, but it was no use. They were all stuck with each other. Vincent, who had been watching it all with a mixture of delight and terror, quickly decided to get in and switch off his light. But there, on his pillow, lay a little trunk, which was attached to a very large lump underneath his quilted blanket. Vincent was left with about three centimetres of bed to sleep in. He curled himself around the little elephant, who was quite warm and already whiffling gently, and fell instantly into a deep sleep.

The house started to fall silent. Even the warring children, anger in their hearts, bruises on their legs and twisted into impossible shapes around their peculiar bedfellows, slept now.

Outside there were more distinctly odd things going on. Near the pigsty, something was moving. But you’ll find out about that in the morning.