Nanny Piggins and the Wicked Plan (11 page)

‘That’s what we do every Monday morning,’ protested the headmaster.

‘Not now that I’m headmistress,’ declared Nanny Piggins.

‘You do er … realise that you’re not actually headmistress. ‘Headmistress for the day’ is more an honorary, symbolic title,’ said Headmaster Pimplestock.

‘I paid fifty dollars – that’s eight chocolate cakes worth of money – to be headmistress and I intend to be headmistress,’ declared Nanny Piggins, drawing herself up to the full four feet of her height.

‘I can’t allow anarchy to …’ began the headmaster.

But Nanny Piggins interrupted. ‘Throw him off the grounds, Boris. I don’t even know what he’s doing here. He doesn’t have a job anymore.’

‘You do realise your position is just for one day?’ squealed Headmaster Pimplestock as Boris picked him up and carried him to the gates.

‘You can get a lot done in one day if you set your mind to it,’ said Nanny Piggins darkly. ‘Now hurry along, children, you’d better get to class. I have things to do.’

The first thing Nanny Piggins did was sack the entire maths department. She was very nice about it. She assured the maths teachers she did not hold it against them personally. They had obviously all suffered some terrible trauma in early life for them to go into such a cruel profession. But in her opinion any maths beyond the ability to calculate the cost of a mixed bag of lollies was a waste of time. She replaced them with a staff of chefs to teach the children how to cook, saying, ‘We all eat three meals a day (sometimes more), whereas you can go your whole life without ever doing quadratic equations.’

She then lined the whole school up along the soccer pitch, gave every child a ball and got them to
throw the balls at the sports teachers, to see how much they liked dodge ball. There was some squealing and many, many red welts. But the sports teachers soon got the message about bullying not being all right just because you are wearing a whistle.

After that Nanny Piggins burnt down the school cafeteria, explaining that it was wrong to allow the site of such crimes against food to continue to exist.

Then she sent all the children home to get changed. (Now you might think having been told to go home, the children would not come back. But they all did. Because they knew what was going to come next). Nanny Piggins forced all the teachers to wear uniforms. Pink uniforms, because pink looks good on pigs so why not on teachers. Some of the teachers complained. But as Nanny Piggins pointed out, ‘If you like uniforms so much, why shouldn’t you wear them.’ And it made more sense for children to wear regular clothes and teachers uniforms because ‘children have a better dress sense than teachers as far as I can see’.

In short, by lunchtime, the entire student body loved Headmistress Piggins. There were cheers of joy and gratitude everywhere she went about the school grounds.

The staff, on the other hand, were not so
comfortable. After lunch the secretarial staff met Nanny Piggins in the headmaster’s office, in tears. ‘What’s wrong,’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘Surely you don’t want that boring old headmaster back?’

‘No, not at all,’ said the most senior secretary. ‘He never let us order chocolate biscuits. And you’ve given us a packet each on your first day. So we’re loyal to you to the end. But we’re concerned. The district superintendent is due to inspect the school at two o’clock this afternoon and we’re worried you’ll get in trouble.’

‘If this
super
intendent really is as super as his job title implies, then I don’t see how he can be cross with me when I’ve made so many excellent improvements,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘But if the superintendent is unhappy he won’t just take it out on you,’ said the senior secretary. ‘He can withhold funding for the school physics excursion.’

‘What’s so good about a physics excursion?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘All the children get to go to an amusement park and go on the rides to observe centrifugal force and gravity,’ said the senior secretary.

‘Do the students really do that?’ asked Nanny Piggins suspiciously.

‘No, they eat too much junk food and go on the rides until they’re sick,’ explained the secretary.

‘Then they cannot be allowed to miss out on such a valuable learning experience,’ declared Nanny Piggins. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll deal with this super-person.’

Fortunately, impressing the district superintendent was a lot easier than Nanny Piggins imagined. He was a plump, elderly man who led a quiet life, never having married. But as soon as he saw Nanny Piggins he fell in love. He had always been attracted to short women with peaches-and-cream complexions. It never occurred to him that his perfect woman was a pig until he saw Nanny Piggins.

But it was not just Nanny Piggins’ appearance that won him over. He also fell in love with her educational theories. He approved of her decision to take all the school’s set English texts and run them through a wood chipper. Both because the pages provided excellent mulch for the school gardens and because she allowed the children to read books they might actually enjoy, having formed the radical theory that if children were allowed to enjoy reading they were likely to read more.

The superintendent was equally delighted by
Nanny Piggins’ approach to geography. She got the children to make prank calls to foreign countries. If you really want to know the chief imports and exports of Istanbul (not that Nanny Piggins could see why you would), the best way to find out was to ring someone in Istanbul. And, as an added bonus, if you ring them up at three o’clock in the morning their time, you will learn some interesting local colloquialisms.

‘Brilliant!’ exclaimed the superintendent.

And when Nanny Piggins taught a history class by regaling the children with colourful (naughty) stories from her own life, he thought it was a wonderful example of oral history in action.

So by the time he had finished his inspection, the superintendent was convinced Nanny Piggins was the best headmistress he had ever seen (and he secretly wanted to marry her).

‘Headmistress Piggins,’ said the district super intendent. ‘I must insist you leave this job immediately.’

‘But I thought you liked the work I was doing here?’ protested Nanny Piggins.

‘I do. That’s why I want you to leave and join head office. You must institute your brilliant educational theories across the entire school district,
then the country. And then, I believe, we should make it our mission to spread your ideas across the entire world,’ gushed the superintendent.

‘No,’ declared Nanny Piggins.

‘No?’ asked the superintendent, trying not to cry.

‘While it is a tempting offer and, goodness knows, schools are the silliest institutions, I’m afraid I’d rather not,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘Why not?’ asked the superintendent.

‘I already have a job,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I’m a nanny. And there is no more important job than that. The three children in my care may grow up to be astronauts, presidents or semi-amateur jugglers. And it’s my job to make sure they do whichever one suits them best.’

‘But the education system needs you,’ pleaded the superintendent.

‘Yes, I know, because schools are cruel, illogical and unfair. But the thing is – life is cruel, illogical and unfair. That is why the education system works so well. If schools and teachers did a good job and inspired children and made them enthusiastic about every subject, they would only be sadly disappointed when they got out into the real world. Better to disappoint them when they’re young. It is more important to learn to cope with disappointment
than learn how to do long division.’

‘You are a very wise pig, Miss Piggins,’ said the superintendent.

‘True,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘If you won’t come and work with me to improve the standard of schools, can you at least do me one favour?’ asked the superintendent.

‘What’s that?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘Will you allow me to have one kiss?’ asked the superintendent, leaning towards her cheek.

‘No,’ declared Nanny Piggins, putting up her trotter to block the path of his lips.

‘No?’ said the superintendent, feeling rather crushed.

‘I can see you are already in love with me. It is a common effect I have on men. Maybe one day, years from now, you will get over it enough to settle down with another woman. But if I let you have one kiss – no other woman will ever live up to me and you will be sad and lonely for life. So it is for your own good that we shall just shake hands,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘Thank you, Nanny Piggins,’ said the superintendent, taking her trotter in his hand. ‘It has been an honour and a privilege and I shall never wash my hand again.’

‘That is a lovely, if disgustingly unhygienic compliment, so I thank you,’ said Nanny Piggins.

And so, in just one short day, Nanny Piggins became the most successful headmistress of all time, and then retired so as not to disturb the educational system of the entire world. This made Derrick, Samantha and Michael happy because, while they loved her as a headmistress, they really, really loved her as their nanny.

Nanny Piggins and the children were playing Native American Indians. Which involved crawling under hedges, around garbage bins and over fences as they stalked the postman. When they caught him they were going to scalp him. I know it sounds gruesome, but the postman did not mind because they never actually scalped him, they just gave him a very short haircut. Plus Nanny Piggins always gave
him a cup of tea and a slice of cake before they sent him on his way again. Indeed, since Nanny Piggins moved into the neighbourhood, the postman had saved a fortune on going to the hairdresser.

On this particular morning Nanny Piggins and the children were distracted from their bloodthirsty task. Just as they were about to swoop on the postman, pull him off his bicycle, tie him up and start snipping, they saw him deliver a letter into their very own letterbox. Nanny Piggins was torn – she did enjoy giving the postman a haircut (she was going to give him a flat-top this month) but she was also burning with curiosity about the letter. So she called together her Native American Indian warriors (just in time because Michael was about to drop onto the postman from out of a tree) and they ran over to look at the mail.

Nanny Piggins’ curiosity was rewarded because there was one letter addressed to her. It was obviously very important because it was typewritten and did not smell of animal droppings (which is what all the letters Nanny Piggins received from her circus friends always smelled like).

‘Open it,’ suggested Derrick.

‘What if it’s booby-trapped?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘Who would send you a booby-trapped letter?’ worried Samantha.

‘A very long list of people,’ admitted Nanny Piggins.

‘I know!’ said Michael. ‘Let’s trick Father into opening it for you.’

‘That wouldn’t be very fair. What if there is a venomous snake or an ancient Egyptian curse inside?’ said Nanny Piggins. Then she thought about how, only that morning, Mr Green had forbidden her from holding a tango marathon in his living room, and she changed her mind. ‘Let’s do it!’

They rushed inside. Mr Green just happened to be at the house that morning because the office building where he worked was being fumigated. The building had a terrible infestation of cockroaches, which had spread from Mr Green’s very own desk, because he ate all his meals there and he never cleaned up properly.

So Mr Green was sitting in the living room reading the newspaper and desperately trying to ignore the existence of his children. He did not even look up when Nanny Piggins handed him the letter. He just grunted and, without taking his eyes off the paper, he started opening it. Nanny Piggins and the children took cover behind the couch with their
fingers in their ears, just in case. But when Mr Green tore the envelope open, there was no explosion or wild animal jumping out. Mr Green did not even shrivel up in a puff of green smoke. He simply slipped out some folded sheets of paper.

‘Thank you,’ said Nanny Piggins, snatching them out of his hand and running out of the room.

Upstairs in the safety of her bedroom, Nanny Piggins and the children looked at the letter. The letterhead said it was from the government. Nanny Piggins hid her head under the quilt because she was afraid to read any more. She had always worried what would happen if the government found out about any one of the number of technically not quite legal things she did on a daily basis. So Samantha kept reading for her.

‘It says that you, Sarah Piggins, are required to report for jury duty,’ read Samantha.

‘Jury duty? What on earth is that?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘When they have court cases, they get twelve people to come in to decide whether or not the person is guilty,’ explained Derrick.

‘You mean I’ll get to decide whether to send someone to jail?’ asked Nanny Piggins excitedly.

‘Yes,’ said Derrick.

‘That’s easy,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I’ll just write a letter now saying that they’re innocent.’

‘But you don’t know what the crime is or who’s standing trial yet,’ protested Samantha.

‘But I’m sure even if they did it, they didn’t mean to,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I break rules all the time and I never mean to get caught.’

‘That’s not how a jury works,’ said Derrick. ‘You have to go to the trial and listen to everything all the lawyers have to say.’

‘I don’t know about this,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘It sounds awfully like work.’

‘You don’t have any choice,’ said Samantha. ‘You’ve been summonsed.’

‘I’ve been whatsied?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

‘It means you’ve been officially told you have to go by the government,’ said Samantha.

‘Really?’ said Nanny Piggins, beginning to look very mutinous. ‘I
have
to, do I?’

‘They’ll give you free sandwiches for lunch,’ said Derrick, hastily trying to defuse the situation.

‘Oh well, that’s all right then. They really should put that in the letter,’ said Nanny Piggins, suddenly cheering up. ‘Let’s go.’

And so Nanny Piggins and the children reported for jury duty. The children should have been at school, but Nanny Piggins thought it was important they learn about the legal system. And the children thought it was important to go with Nanny Piggins, just in case she tried to run away. They did not want their nanny getting in trouble. When they arrived at the courthouse Nanny Piggins and the children were put in a room with a large number of very dreary-looking people.

‘Why does everyone look so sad,’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘They’re not the ones going to jail, are they?’

‘No, they’re the other jurors,’ explained Derrick. ‘They’re just sad that they couldn’t think of an excuse to get out of it.’

‘But why would they want to get out of jury duty?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘I’ve seen what most people do with their time and it’s a lot more boring than sending criminals to jail.’

‘I think people like being boring,’ said Samantha.

‘Your father certainly does,’ agreed Nanny Piggins.

‘Here comes the judge,’ whispered Derrick. ‘He’ll select the jury.’

Everyone in the courtroom had to stand up as an elderly, grumpy-looking man wearing a black gown entered. This caused a lot of consternation among the Green children, because they all had to shove their handkerchiefs in Nanny Piggins’ mouth to muffle her loud exclamation, ‘Why is that man wearing a dress?!’

When the old dress-wearing man sat down they could all sit down too. He then began the process of selecting the jury, which immediately bored Nanny Piggins so she took out a pack of cards and played canasta with the children. That was until her own name was called, ‘Sarah Matahari Lorelai Anne Piggins.’

‘Yes,’ said Nanny Piggins, getting to her feet.

‘You are on the jury,’ said the judge.

‘All right,’ said Nanny Piggins, as she slipped out of her seat and walked to the front of the court room.

‘Hang on!’ called the defence counsel. ‘You can’t put her on the jury.’

‘Why not?’ demanded the judge grumpily. He did not like being told what he could and could not do.

‘She’s a –’ The defence counsel looked across at Nanny Piggins. Nanny Piggins glared back at him.
‘A pig,’ he whispered uncomfortably.

‘What?’ asked the judge, who was hard of hearing.

‘A pig, your Honour. A porker. A farm animal. The type of creature bacon comes from,’ expanded the defence counsel.

Nanny Piggins was really glaring at him now. If they did not find the defendant guilty in this trial, there was a good chance Nanny Piggins would be found guilty of biting this defence counsel.

The judge lowered his reading glasses and took a good look at Nanny Piggins. There was no doubt that, no matter how well dressed and stunningly beautiful she was, Nanny Piggins clearly was a pig. But the judge did not like the defence counsel. And he did not much like being a judge. So he decided to make things interesting for himself by allowing a pig on the jury.

‘I don’t see why Miss Piggins’ species should be held against her,’ said the judge.

Nanny Piggins took an immediate liking to the judge.

‘But your Honour,’ spluttered the counsel, ‘you can’t put my client’s fate in the hands of a pig.’

‘The trotters of a pig, you mean,’ corrected the judge.

‘Surely it’s against the rules?’ protested the counsel.

‘According to the law your client is entitled to a jury of his peers,’ said the judge. ‘And he is, after all, undeniably a porker.’

The defence counsel looked at his client. There was no way around it. He had a weight problem.

‘I’ve made my decision and that is final,’ said the judge.

‘Thank you, your Honour,’ smiled Nanny Piggins graciously, before turning around, pointing dramatically at the defendant and yelling, ‘I find him GUILTY!’

‘Not yet, Miss Piggins,’ said the judge. ‘It is traditional to listen to the evidence before making your verdict.’

‘Oh, all right, if that’s the way it’s done,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘Why don’t you take a seat in the jury box?’ suggested the judge.

‘Thank you. Come along, children,’ said Nanny Piggins.

Derrick, Samantha and Michael hopped up from their seats at the back of the courtroom and went to join Nanny Piggins in the jury box.

‘Your Honour, you can’t allow children to sit with the jury!’ protested the defence counsel.

‘Can’t I?’ growled the judge, who did not like being told what he could and could not do by pimply lawyers still in their twenties.

‘I’m a nanny. I have to take them everywhere with me. It’s my job,’ said Nanny Piggins.

‘You heard the pig,’ said the judge.

‘If I left them at home unattended, they might burn the house down. Then I’d be brought in on trial for neglecting them,’ explained Nanny Piggins.

‘And we don’t want that, do we?’ said the judge, glaring at the defence counsel. ‘We’ve got quite enough to do without trying Nanny Piggins.’

‘Yes, your Honour,’ said the defence counsel humbly, realising he was not going to get his way on anything.

And so the trial began. Nanny Piggins found it quite thrilling. She got in trouble several times for leaping up and yelling ‘Guilty!’, as well as, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself!’ and ‘You are going to rot in jail for a very long time!’ (and that was just what she said to the defence counsel). But the judge was very half-hearted with his tellings-off because he enjoyed the interruptions.

You see, the truth is, court cases are very boring
and not at all like they are on television. So having a pig unexpectedly yelling things out all the time really cheered the proceedings up. The court stenographer kept making typing mistakes because she was giggling so hard. And she had no idea how to spell ‘wastrel’, ‘popinjay’, ‘cabbage head’, or some of the other insults Nanny Piggins kept hurling at the defendant and his counsel. Meanwhile, the public prosecutor practically bit through the handle of his briefcase he was struggling so hard not to laugh.

It took all day for the lawyers to lay out the details of the case, even though they were pretty straightforward. The defendant was accused of shinnying up a drainpipe, taking two tiles out of the roof, squeezing into the attic, climbing down into the house and stealing an old lady’s purebred Siamese cat. Which, according to an expert witness, was very valuable because it was an unusually highly strung breed that never showed affection for anyone unless they had a tin of cat food in their hand.

The defendant had been caught with the stolen cat locked in his bedroom wardrobe, which did look pretty incriminating. But his counsel was maintaining a spirited defence based largely on the improbability of such an obviously overweight man
committing such an athletically demanding crime. Also his client was allergic to cats.

In conclusion, the prosecutor, followed by the defence counsel, summed up their cases for the jury. The defence counsel seemed quite willing to talk into the night, and on into the next day. But the judge had caught something of Nanny Piggins’ spirit for spontaneous interjection. So whenever the defence counsel started getting unnecessarily wordy, the judge would mutter, ‘Get on with it’ or, ‘Shut your cake-hole’.

Finally it was over and the judge turned to the jury to give them his instructions. ‘Members of the jury, first you need to choose a foreperson. Then you must reach a verdict. If you think he is guilty, then your decision should be ‘guilty’. If you think he’s innocent then your decision should be ‘not guilty’. Take your time. I know decisions are hard. It always takes me ages to decide what to have for lunch.’

And so the jury plus the three Green children were ushered into a room and left to get on with it. The jury immediately elected Nanny Piggins as their fore-pig. She had become very popular during the trial because she kept handing around a large voluminous handbag that contained biscuits, cake, chocolate and other essential provisions for
sustaining themselves. Indeed, if it were not for Nanny Piggins, several of the jurors would have slept through most of the proceedings.

The jurors discussed the trial, which they all enjoyed because it was a lot like gossiping. They discussed the defence counsel’s terrible dress sense. (Nanny Piggins had distinctly noticed he was wearing brown shoes with a black suit.) They discussed who was dreamier – the bailiff or the man who brought them their lunches. And they discussed whether the stenographer was really writing down everything that was said or just randomly pressing buttons on her typewriter and hoping nobody would notice. So by the end of the day, while they had talked through some very important matters, they had not reached a verdict. But the judge was very nice about it. He said they could come back the next day and not to rush.