Nanny Piggins and the Rival Ringmaster (7 page)

Nanny Piggins crumpled up the speech and put it back in her pocket.

‘I’d like to begin,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘by denouncing Alfred Nobel. We all know he only set up the Nobel Prize because he felt guilty about inventing dynamite. But what I want to know is why are there only prizes for physics, chemistry, medicine, literature and peace? He would have been much better off giving out prizes for achievement in cake-baking, fairy-floss turning and chocolate-treat manufacture. You know, rewarding people who actually do good in the world. In fact, in my opinion, Alfred can take this prize and –’

But the audience never got to find out what Nanny Piggins thought they could do with the award because at that moment the back doors of the theatre crashed open and another impossibly glamorous pig with long blonde curly hair and square-framed purple glasses burst into the auditorium.

‘Don’t listen to that pig,’ declared the newcomer. ‘For I am the real Professor Deidre Piggins. She
is nothing more than my sister Sarah Piggins, the world’s most glamorous flying pig.’

Everyone gasped.

‘Here, take your Nobel Prize, I don’t want it anyway’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I don’t have anything a gold medal would go with. Except perhaps my Olympic medal. But I don’t wear that often either.’

‘How dare you hijack my award with your own personal political dessert-related views,’ accused Professor Deidre Piggins, as she walked down the central aisle towards the stage.

‘What are you doing here anyway?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘I thought the risk of you being kidnapped was too great.’

‘Hah!’ said Professor Deidre Piggins. ‘Who would have the audacity to kidnap me here at the Nobel Prize ceremony?’

Unfortunately, at that very moment Professor Deidre Piggins found out. For there was a loud BOOM! overhead. Then the SMASH! of a piece of falling roof. And before Professor Piggins even had time to brush the plaster out of her (uncombed) hair, Wendy Piggins had abseiled down, grabbed Deidre and pressed a button on her utility belt, causing them both to be whipped back up into the sky, where they were carried off by a waiting helicopter.

The whole audience sat in completely silent, open-mouthed awe. They could not believe that they had seen two identical pigs. But to see three identical pigs in one room – one of whom was a Nobel Prize winner, another who was a brilliant international espionage agent and a third who was an imposter, formerly known as the world’s greatest flying pig – it was too much for their enormous brains to comprehend.

Nanny Piggins was the first to collect herself. ‘Where was I before I was rudely interrupted?’ she asked. ‘Oh yes, I was listing the reasons why the Nobel prizes are stupid …’

Nanny Piggins spoke for two hours on the topic and it turned out to be an enthralling speech. Later at the post-awards cocktail party the chairman of the prize committee was most apologetic when he discovered who Nanny Piggins really was. It turns out the Nobel Committee had been trying to award the Nobel Prize for Physics to Nanny Piggins for the last ten years, but due to the Ringmaster’s tax avoiding ways, they could never find her postal address.

Fortunately there was an engraver on hand, so Nanny Piggins’ name was added to her sister’s award. The chairman also promised to introduce a prize for baked goods as soon as possible, perhaps by dropping
the prize for chemistry. Because really, baking was chemistry without all those boring equations.

And so, the next day Nanny Piggins, Boris and the children were back in their front yard filling in the trench (the special agents had flown them back as quickly as possible before there could be any more international incidents).

‘Aren’t you worried about your sister?’ asked Samantha.

‘Not at all,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘She has a PhD in weaponising nuclear technology. If she can’t blast her way out of a prison cell then she really is a silly-billy.’

‘Don’t you feel guilty about taking her Nobel Prize?’ asked Michael.

‘Of course not,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘The Nobel Committee said they would give her another one when she resurfaces. ‘Until then she’d hardly have much opportunity to wear it, being a hostage in a secret foreign location, would she? And really, if she wanted to improve her appearance she should do something about her hair before she starts trying to wear ostentatious gold jewellery.’

‘Are you going to ask the agents from SSBI to help you restore your toilet paper orange and poppy-seed cake recipe?’ asked Samantha.

‘No,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘On the flight back I had an even better idea about how to improve it.’

‘You did?’ asked Michael.

‘Yes, in the toilet paper recipe I took out the poppy seeds and replaced them with chocolate chips,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘But just think, if I took out the orange as well, and replaced it with melted chocolate, why, that would be the best orange and poppy-seed cake ever.’

And it was brilliant lateral thinking like this that made the children realise their nanny truly did deserve her Nobel Prize.

‘Aaa-aa-aaa-aa-aaaah!’ screamed Nanny Piggins as she swung across Mr Green’s front yard, wearing nothing but a faux fur jungle dress.

Nanny Piggins and the children were playing Tarzan. They had been unable to decide who was going to be Tarzan and who would be Jane, because none of them wanted to be Jane. It was boring to be constantly spraining your ankle and falling in quicksand so, as a compromise, they decided they would all be Tarzan.

At first their game was inhibited by the fact that there was no jungle and, therefore, no jungle vines in Mr Green’s front yard. But Nanny Piggins soon fixed that by borrowing all Mr Green’s silk ties (again), stringing them together and hanging them from the trees. The silk was a little slippery, but Nanny Piggins found that dipping them in some good gritty mud and letting it dry solved that.

Obviously there were no evil oil magnates or chimpanzee poachers on their street, but Nanny Piggins and the children still found plenty to do. They terrified a salesman from the telephone company and they caught the Avon lady in their elephant trap (a large pit Nanny Piggins dug on the nature strip, then covered in palm leaves). So they were having a tremendous afternoon.

Nanny Piggins was just swinging across the garden screaming ‘Wooo-hooooo!’ (she felt Tarzan’s dialogue needed broadening) in search of ne’er-do-wellers to wrestle when she suddenly and unexpectedly slammed into a brick wall.

‘Ooomph!’ said Nanny Piggins, then ‘Ow!’ when she slid down the brick wall and hit the ground. ‘I don’t remember there being a brick wall in the middle of the garden,’ she complained, rubbing her head.

‘Um … Nanny Piggins,’ said Derrick nervously. ‘It’s not a brick wall.’

Nanny Piggins looked up to see a fully grown African elephant standing over her. Now, when she was standing up Nanny Piggins was only four foot tall, but at this moment Nanny Piggins was sitting on her rather sore bottom, so the ten-foot-tall 4500-kilogram elephant towered over her in a most intimidating way. But of course Nanny Piggins was never intimidated by a 100-times difference in size.

‘Esmeralda!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins. ‘How wonderful to see you.’

‘Sarah?’ said the African elephant. ‘Is that you? I didn’t recognise you in your faux fur. Although it’s very becoming, you should dress like a leopard more often.’

‘Thank you,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I think I’ll wear it next time I have to go down and argue with Headmaster Pimplestock. Apart from looking fabulous, it allows for a lot of flexibility of movement, which is so important when you need to put somebody in a headlock.’

‘But on a more shocking note,’ said Esmeralda, pointing to the nature strip with her trunk, ‘did you know somebody has dug an elephant trap out the front of your house? Those things are
so dangerous. I could have sprained my ankle. And if you get stuck in the bottom of one it can be terribly boring if you haven’t got a magazine with you.’

‘I’m sorry, Esmeralda. I’m afraid I dug that. I know it was insensitive of me,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘but we so rarely see large African wildlife in our street I didn’t think there would be any harm. I’ll have Boris fill it in immediately.’

‘Is Boris here too?’ asked Esmeralda. ‘I’d love to see him again. Kodiak bears and giraffes are the only animals I don’t have to speak down to.’

‘So, to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘My visit?’ asked Esmeralda.

‘Why are you here?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘Um …’ said Esmeralda. ‘I can’t remember.’

‘I thought elephants were meant to have good memories,’ Michael whispered to Nanny Piggins.

‘I’m afraid that is just a sarcastic joke,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘They have terrible memories. But no-one ever likes to say so to an elephant’s face in case the elephant turns around and sits on them.’

‘Perhaps I wrote a note on my hoof?’ said Esmeralda. ‘I often do that if it’s something important. Can you see if there is a note down there?
I’d look myself but my feet are a long way away and I don’t have my glasses with me.’

‘There is a note on this foot,’ said Samantha, crouching by Esmeralda’s front left hoof.

‘What does it say?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘
Visit Sarah Piggins
,’ read Samantha.

‘Not terribly helpful,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘Hang on,’ said Michael, ‘there’s a note on this hoof too.’ He was crouching by the front right foot.

‘Oh good,’ said Esmeralda. ‘What does that one say?’

‘
Run away from circus
,’ read Michael.

‘Does that jog your memory?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘Let me see …’ said Esmeralda as she scratched her head with her trunk. ‘Run away from circus … visit Sarah Piggins … now why would I write that? Oh my goodness! I remember why I had to run away!’

‘Why?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

Esmeralda burst into tears. ‘It’s too dreadful. I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘There there,’ said Nanny Piggins, giving Esmeralda’s leg a comforting hug. ‘I think you need to come inside for a slice of cake and some hot
chocolate. You’ve obviously been through a terrible ordeal.’

‘Thank you,’ sniffed Esmeralda.

‘Um, Nanny Piggins,’ said Derrick. ‘How are we going to get her inside? She twice as big as the front door.’

‘We’ll take her in through the front window,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘But she’s three times as big as that,’ protested Michael.

‘Yes, but if she demolishes that wall, we’ll just tell your father a runaway car hit it,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘He can’t get cross about that.’

And so five minutes and considerable structural damage to the house later, they were all sitting around the kitchen table listening to Esmeralda’s tale of woe.

‘Ever since he left it’s just been awful,’ wept Esmeralda.

‘Since
who
left?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘Since … what’s his name … short man … big bottom, red coat …’ Esmeralda struggled to remember.

‘The Ringmaster?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘Yes, the Ringman! That’s it,’ said Esmeralda. ‘Ever since he left it’s been terrible.’

‘But surely you don’t like the Ringmaster?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘Like him?’ asked Esmeralda, ‘Oh, no no no. He is a very wicked man. He kidnapped me all those years ago. He told me he had a packet of peanuts in the back of his cargo ship if I just cared to look, and by the time I finished eating them we had set sail for Mauritius.’

‘Typical,’ said Nanny Piggins, shaking her head.

‘And whenever he wants me to do something really dangerous like jump through a flaming hoop or ride a really tiny bicycle without wearing a helmet, he whips a mouse out of his pocket to scare me,’ complained Esmeralda.

‘She is afraid of mice?’ whispered Samantha.

‘A very rude mouse once yelled at her using some extremely crude language and she has been terrified of mice ever since,’ explained Boris.

‘But I don’t understand,’ said Derrick. ‘If the Ringmaster has been so wicked to you, why are you upset he is gone?’

‘Upset?’ asked Esmeralda. ‘Yes … why?’ She sipped her hot chocolate as she tried to remember. ‘Oh yes, I remember. Because it’s so boring.’

‘Boring?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘Yes, boring,’ said Esmeralda. ‘Ever since he’s gone no-one has been kidnapped, we’ve all been paid every week and there haven’t been any serious injuries as a result of him selling the essential safety equipment. It’s positively tedious.’

‘It does sound a little dull,’ admitted Nanny Piggins.

‘It’s like having a normal job,’ said Esmeralda.

‘Urgh,’ shuddered Nanny Piggins.

‘Exactly,’ agreed Esmeralda.

‘But surely there’s still the thrill of performing in front of the crowd?’ asked Samantha.

‘That’s just it,’ explained Esmeralda. ‘The crowds have stopped coming. Barely anybody turns up now. Don’t get me wrong, Rosalind is trying her best to run the circus, but a bearded lady just doesn’t have the right skill set. She doesn’t have the Ringmaster’s … what’s the right word?’

‘Showmanship?’ guessed Derrick.

‘Flare?’ guessed Michael.

‘Panache?’ guessed Samantha.

‘She’s not a big lying crook?’ guessed Nanny Piggins.

‘That’s it!’ agreed Esmeralda. ‘The Ringmaster had such a knack of making everything sound
exciting with exaggerated publicity. Then he makes the show live up to the audience’s expectations by setting something or somebody on fire when everybody least expects it.’

‘I remember the time he set fire to my cannon,’ reminisced Nanny Piggins.

‘Oh yes, that was a good one,’ agreed Boris. ‘When your cannon exploded it was spectacular. And when you chased the Ringmaster around the Big Top, whacking him on the bottom with his own riding crop, it was even better.’

‘Such a big bottom, it was no chore,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘If you are unhappy at the circus, why did you come here?’ asked Derrick. ‘This is just the suburbs. It’s hardly very glamorous.’

‘Oh I knew if Sarah was here there would be excitement,’ said Esmeralda. ‘I might not remember much but I know that wherever Sarah is, fun is sure to follow.’

‘Well, you must stay and be our guest until you decide what you want to do next,’ said Nanny Piggins graciously.

‘But, Nanny Piggins,’ said Samantha, ‘what about Father?’

‘What about him?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘What will he say when he sees an African elephant in his house?’ asked Michael.

‘He hasn’t noticed Boris living in the shed,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘so why would he notice Esmeralda?’

‘She’s much bigger,’ said Samantha, turning to Esmeralda. ‘Excuse me, but you are.’

‘It’s all right, African elephants aren’t thin-skinned,’ said Esmeralda. ‘You’re thinking of rhinoceroses.’

‘Physically Esmeralda may be a trifle larger than Boris,’ conceded Nanny Piggins, ‘but she is much less prone to bursting into ballet. So, if anything, I think your father is even less likely to notice her.’

And, as ever, Nanny Piggins’ prediction proved to be correct. Over the following week, Mr Green did not notice the African elephant sunbathing in his garden or doing the crossword in his living room. In fact, he even sat in the dining room with Esmeralda for half an hour one morning without noticing her at all, except to say ‘pass the salt’. (Of course Esmeralda did not pass him the salt. She thought he had enough sodium in his diet and did not want to make
him bloated.) Aside from noticing that he had not had to mow the lawn for a while (Esmeralda was eating the grass), Mr Green had no suspicion that he was secretly harbouring an African elephant at all.

But it was not all loafing about the house. Nanny Piggins was a good hostess and she saw to it that Esmeralda enjoyed the excitement she had been missing from her life. Nanny Piggins took Esmeralda down to school to show her where people imprisoned their children five days a week (regardless of whether or not they had tidied their bedrooms). She showed her the bathroom with hot-and-cold running water (a thing the Ringmaster had been telling them for decades was a myth that did not exist). And she showed Esmeralda the supermarket where there was an entire row devoted to chocolate and sweets. (Nanny Piggins did not so much show Esmeralda this aisle – they spent the whole day there eating their way through all the packets.) Altogether Esmeralda had a marvellous voyage of discovery.

‘I feel so cosmopolitan,’ said Esmeralda, ‘experiencing all these new and strange things from an exotic foreign culture.’

‘We’re not an exotic foreign culture,’ protested Derrick.

‘Of course you are. People go to Africa to stare in amazement at elephants all the time,’ explained Nanny Piggins. ‘So you shouldn’t be surprised when an elephant wants to stare in amazement at you.’

‘Yes, you’re much more peculiar than elephants,’ agreed Esmeralda. ‘In Africa all we do is stand around chatting and trying not to be eaten by lions. But you do the most spectacularly bizarre things every day.’

‘Like what?’ asked Samantha.

‘The fact that you even leave the house amazes me,’ said Esmeralda, ‘when you’ve got something as marvellous as television sitting right there in your living room.’

‘The greatest invention ever made by man,’ agreed Nanny Piggins. ‘Well, the second greatest, after the chocolate bar, of course.’