Nanny Piggins and the Rival Ringmaster (2 page)

‘That’s better,’ said the man. ‘I’ve a good mind to write a formal letter of complaint.’

‘Oh no,’ said Derrick, for he recognised the voice.

‘It’s Father!’ gasped all three children.

‘Why is he volunteering?’ asked Michael.

‘I don’t think he knows he is,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I think he was just trying to get across the square on his way to work.’

‘Step this way, sir,’ beckoned the Ringmaster, bowing to Mr Green and ushering him forward.

‘Finally, someone with some manners,’ said Mr Green, allowing the Ringmaster to draw him away from the staring crowd. ‘What are you lot looking at? Have you never seen a man in a decent suit before?’

Unfortunately Mr Green was so busy chastising the onlookers, he entirely failed to realise that the Ringmaster had led him into the glistening box. Not until the door slammed behind him. Then it was too late.

The Ringmaster turned and addressed the crowd. ‘As you can see, this box is entirely made of bulletproof glass.’ This was evident because Mr Green was now beating on the glass so hard with his fists, it would be broken if it was ordinary glass. The Ringmaster tapped every side of the box with his riding crop (for some reason the Ringmaster always carried a riding crop, which was particularly perplexing because he never rode a horse). ‘There are no hidden doors, or secret compartments. I shall make this
gentleman
…’

The audience sniggered here, because no-one thought Mr Green was a gentleman.

‘I shall make this
man
disappear using nothing but the magic powers of my mind,’ claimed the Ringmaster.

‘Hah!’ snorted Nanny Piggins. ‘A double-A battery has more power.’

‘We’ll see about that. Raise the box!’ called the Ringmaster.

A drum roll started, and the strongman from the circus, who was standing by the pulley system, started heaving on the rope, hand over hand. Slowly Mr Green began rising off the ground. This apparently terrified Mr Green because he was now weeping and begging to be allowed out. (At least that’s what it
looked like he was saying. The audience had to lip-read because the glass box was very well made and, as a result, entirely soundproof.)

‘He doesn’t look like he’s enjoying himself very much,’ observed Boris.

‘Shouldn’t we rescue him?’ worried Samantha.

‘I suppose we should,’ agreed Nanny Piggins.

Neither Nanny Piggins nor the children leapt into action. They were too busy thinking about the billycart that Mr Green had thrown in a wood chipper the previous weekend, when their screams of enjoyment had interrupted his favourite radio program about being thrifty.

When the glass box finally reached its highest point, way up in the air above the Town Hall steps, the drum roll stopped.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ shouted the Ringmaster. ‘Behold as I make a fully grown man entirely DISAPPEAR!!!’

There was a flash of light, a billow of smoke and the bulletproof glass box suddenly plummeted towards the ground, the rope whipping through the pulleys.

‘Father!’ cried the children.

‘No!’ cried Nanny Piggins, leaping forward to catch the rope but getting there too late as the tail
end whipped up into the sky and the box smashed onto the steps, all six sides smashing open.

The weaker-minded members of the crowd screamed.

But then they realised that Mr Green was not in the box anymore. He had actually disappeared. Suddenly the audience burst into rapturous applause.

The Ringmaster beamed, winked at Nanny Piggins and bowed low (the only reason his top hat didn’t fall off was because he used so much oil in his hair he had managed to achieve a complete seal about his head).

‘Now!’ said the Ringmaster. ‘I shall make Mr Green reappear … inside that portaloo!’

The Ringmaster pointed his riding crop dramatically towards a portable toilet by the edge of the crowd that no-one had noticed. He strode over to the portable toilet, and rapped on the door three times with his riding crop. ‘Mr Green, are you decent in there?’

The audience laughed.

Then the Ringmaster flung open the door and the crowd was astonished to see … nobody inside. Certainly not Mr Green.

‘Wow! What a trick,’ marvelled Michael.

‘I can’t believe it,’ said Nanny Piggins, reluctantly impressed. ‘He really did make Mr Green disappear. I wonder where he’ll really pop up.’

‘Perhaps he’s inside the Ringmaster’s hat,’ suggested Michael.

‘I doubt it,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘There’d be no room, what with the rabbit who already lives there.’

‘Wait, I think something is wrong,’ said Samantha.

They watched as the Ringmaster looked behind the portaloo, underneath the portaloo, then climbed inside and looked down into the bowl of the portaloo, all the time calling: ‘Mr Green, where are you? Come out, the trick is over now.’

Suddenly Samantha ran forward and snatched up something from the ground behind the portaloo. ‘Look! His briefcase!’

‘Oh my gosh!’ said Derrick.

‘No!’ said Michael.

‘Father would never go anywhere without this,’ explained Samantha. ‘He even takes it in the shower.’

‘What have you done?!’ demanded Nanny Piggins, turning on the Ringmaster. ‘How dare you make these children’s father disappear. Just because he is mean, unpleasant and so boring his
most interesting characteristic is his nut allergy, that doesn’t give you the right to make him vanish.’

‘Or has he vanished?’ asked Boris. ‘Perhaps this whole scenario is just an elaborate ruse to kidnap Mr Green.’

‘Why on earth would the Ringmaster kidnap Father?’ asked Derrick.

‘How else do you think they recruit people to scoop up the elephant poop at the circus,’ said Boris. ‘They don’t get many voluntary applicants for the job.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ spluttered the Ringmaster. ‘He was supposed to be here. I don’t have any kidnappings planned, at least, not for today.’

‘Michael,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘hold my broomstick. I’m getting your Father back and I don’t care how many shins I have to bite to do it.’

Nanny Piggins launched herself at the Ringmaster and he fled into the crowd. He was surprisingly swift on his feet for a man with short stumpy legs, but he was no match for the superior athleticism of Nanny Piggins. She was just about to leap forward and grab him by his tail coat, when someone else grabbed her by the hem of her witch’s cape, causing her to fall flat on her bottom.

‘What is the meaning of this then?’ said a stern voice.

Nanny Piggins spun around ready to bite her captor, but the Police Sergeant quickly stood in the way, saying hurriedly, ‘Nanny Piggins, how lovely to see you. You look marvellous today. Is that a new handbag? Have I introduced you to my boss, the Inspector?’

The Police Sergeant stepped back to reveal an older police officer with lots of shiny badges on his lapel. The Inspector’s posture was so straight, he appeared to have had a steel rod surgically attached to his spine.

‘Perhaps the Inspector could give me one good reason why I should not bite his hand,’ said Nanny Piggins, struggling to contain her temper.

‘You were causing a public disturbance,’ said the Inspector.

‘The Ringmaster just kidnapped their father,’ protested Nanny Piggins, as she pointed to Derrick, Samantha and Michael, who were struggling to control their own instincts to cheer and dance for joy, due to their newly orphaned status.

‘So you claim,’ said the Inspector.

‘Claim?!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins. ‘There were over five hundred people here who saw him do it.’

The Inspector looked at the crowd, who were all nodding their heads in agreement.

‘Kidnapping, well, that is a very serious matter indeed. You had better let us take care of it,’ said the Inspector. ‘Sergeant, arrest the Ringmaster.’

‘Sir, he’s disappeared,’ said the Police Sergeant.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, a fellow can’t just disappear,’ protested the Inspector.

‘Oh yes, they can,’ said Boris kindly. ‘We’ve just seen two of them vanish in the last five minutes.’

The Inspector glared at Boris, then turned back to Nanny Piggins. ‘Do you have a permit for this bear?’

Now the Police Sergeant had to grab hold of Nanny Piggins before she could attack the Inspector for his impertinence.

‘Sir, perhaps we should deal with the kidnapping first,’ said the Police Sergeant.

‘Do we know where this Ringmaster fellow lives?’ asked the Inspector.

‘He’s a Ringmaster, sir,’ said the Police Sergeant, trying hard not to roll his eyes in impatience. ‘He lives at the circus.’

‘Of course. You stay here and make sure this crowd disperses in an orderly manner. I’ll take the men, and those … er … news’ crews,’ said
the Inspector, as he smoothed his already smooth hair and straightened his already straight tie, ‘and go and arrest the Ringmaster myself.’

‘And search for our father,’ prompted Samantha.

‘What? Oh yes, we’ll do that too,’ said the Inspector. He soon had four squad cars full of officers speeding off, with sirens blaring, and five news’ crews following close behind.

Nanny Piggins and the Police Sergeant watched them go. ‘I don’t know about this, Nanny Piggins,’ confided the Police Sergeant. ‘Having kidnapped Mr Green in broad daylight in front of hundreds of witnesses, I doubt the Ringmaster would have gone home.’

‘I agree,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘Where do you think he would go then?’ asked the Police Sergeant.

‘Hmmm,’ considered Nanny Piggins. ‘He’d try to flee the country I should think.’

‘So we should go and look at the airport then?’ asked the Police Sergeant.

‘No,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘The Ringmaster is airport-aphobic.’

‘He’s afraid of flying?’ asked Derrick.

‘No, he’s afraid of the cost of aeroplane tickets,’ explained Nanny Piggins. ‘The Ringmaster is very miserly. So if we are going to look for him, the first place we should go is the harbour. He will try to sneak himself and Mr Green out of the country onboard a ship.’

Nanny Piggins, the Police Sergeant, Boris, the children and the young Police Constable (the Inspector had not taken him because he found his enthusiasm unnerving) all leapt in a police van and drove to the port.

There was only one boat scheduled to leave that day. So the Police Sergeant immediately boarded it and demanded to be allowed to search the vessel. Fortunately the Bulgarian sea captain had fallen in love with Nanny Piggins at first sight (which was amazing because she was still wearing the witch costume. But the sea captain had always been attracted to older women with facial warts) so he agreed to ‘whatever the beautiful lady wanted’.

The Police Sergeant and the young constable methodically searched the entire ship from bow to stern. But they found nothing.

‘I don’t know, Nanny Piggins. I think we’ll have to try looking somewhere else,’ conceded the Police Sergeant.

‘Not so fast, I have an idea’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Get the sea captain to line up his crew.’

The men were soon out on deck in one long line. They were a brutish looking bunch of Bulgarians. It was almost as if they took pride in who could shave the least, wash the most infrequently and scowl the hardest. They were quite an intimidating sight. If Samantha had not had Boris’ hand to hold, she would have had to go back to the squad car and hide under the seat.

‘Are you going to pump them for information?’ asked Michael.

‘How can she?’ asked Derrick. ‘They only speak Bulgarian. You don’t speak Bulgarian, do you?’

‘Of course I do,’ said Nanny Piggins, with which she yelled at the men, ‘
Zaveevam naokolo
!’ (Which is Bulgarian for ‘turn around’.)

The men did as they were told. Then Nanny Piggins walked along, staring hard at the saggy, filthy seats of their pants, until she leapt forward with delight. ‘Ah-hah!’ yelled Nanny Piggins. ‘I’d recognise that unusually large bottom anywhere! It’s the Ringmaster!’

The shortest and biggest-bottomed Bulgarian immediately clutched his backside and tried to make a run for the gangway. But the Police Constable was too quick for him. He crash-tackled the seaman to the ground (re-enacting the try-saving tackle from his rugby game on the weekend). Nanny Piggins tore off the Bulgarian’s fake beard and grubby hat.

‘It
is
the Ringmaster!’ exclaimed the children, who until that moment had thought their Nanny had mistakenly encouraged the Police Constable to assault an innocent seaman.

‘I must say it is almost a relief to be discovered,’ confessed the Ringmaster. ‘I don’t know how much longer I was going to be able to bear this disguise. I detest improperly laundered clothes.’

‘Where’s Mr Green?’ demanded the Police Sergeant. ‘What have you done with him?’

‘I’ve got no idea,’ said the Ringmaster. ‘He was supposed to be in the portaloo. I’ve got absolutely no idea how he managed to actually disappear.’

‘Are you claiming you didn’t kidnap him?’ asked the Police Sergeant.

‘Even I, who have trained Finnish ferrets to waltz and Albanian aardvarks to breathe fire, even I could not possibly find a use for someone as boring as Mr Green,’ said the Ringmaster. ‘I would be better
off kidnapping a lump of mould. At least mould wouldn’t bore me with endless stories about his nut allergy.’