by R. A. Spratt
The annoying thing about Nanny Piggins was that as soon as Headmaster Pimplestock took his first bite, he had to concede that five hundred dollars was a bargain. Five thousand dollars would not have been too much to ask for such a delicious slice of cake. He walked away, ‘Mmm-mm-mmmmm’ing and ‘Aaah-mm-yummmm’ing quietly but just as fervently as the children.
Nanny Piggins, Boris and the other volunteers leaned out the window and watched him go. As soon as he was out of sight Nanny Piggins leapt out of the window and hurried over to read the sign on the noticeboard.
‘What does it say?’ asked Mrs Branston.
‘The school wants to hire a new bus driver!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins. ‘Fancy that. According to this, not only will they let the bus driver drive the bus, they will also pay them to do it. And in money.’ (Nanny Piggins never had much money because Mr Green only paid her ten cents an hour. And her previous employer, the Ringmaster, had never paid her at all. So after those two it always amazed her when an employer was prepared to follow the minimum-wage laws.)
‘You couldn’t pay me enough to drive a bus full of kids,’ said Mrs Kim, another of the volunteers. ‘It’s bad enough driving around my own two children, what with all the fighting and wanting snacks, and the government not letting you leave them in a car on a hot day.’
‘Yes, but think of all the things you could do with a bus,’ said Nanny Piggins wistfully. ‘They’re just so big. There is so much potential.’
‘But Sarah,’ said Boris, ‘you can’t apply. You already have a job looking after Derrick, Samantha and Michael.’
‘Pish!’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I can do both. I’m very good at multi-tasking. I eat cake and bake cake simultaneously all the time.’
So that afternoon Nanny Piggins went home and wrote out her job application. It was a note written in lipstick saying:
Dear School,
Please give me the job of bus driver. I know I will be better than anyone else, because I usually am at most things.
Fond Regards,
Nanny Piggins F.P. (Flying Pig)
Luckily for Nanny Piggins, Headmaster Pimplestock was not in charge of hiring the new bus driver. There was a P&C hiring committee whose job it was to draw up a shortlist of candidates. Headmaster Pimplestock used to have full responsibility for hiring staff, but that was taken away from him when, over a 17-year period, he had only hired men (and very boring men who did not use enough deodorant).
Headmaster Pimplestock did go to the committee and beg them not to put Nanny Piggins on their shortlist, on the grounds that she was a raving psychopath who had burnt the school canteen down, blasted a hole in the library roof and bitten him on the shins several times.
But Nanny Piggins was a woman, and there were too few of them on staff. (Also, she annoyed Headmaster Pimplestock, which secretly delighted the committee.) So they overruled Headmaster Pimplestock and put Nanny Piggins on the list.
It was decided that the best way to choose a school bus driver was to hold a bus driving test. The three shortlisted candidates were summoned to the school parking lot, where they would have to navigate an obstacle course designed to test their reflexes, concentration and driving skill.
Aside from Nanny Piggins, the candidates were Mrs Thompson, the library assistant (after twenty years of waiting for the senior librarian to die so she could get a promotion, Mrs Thompson had decided the only way to further her career was to get away from books) and a neat, efficient middle-aged lady called Miss George, who actually had experience, having once been on a bus when the driver had been stung by a bee and gone into anaphylactic shock, so she’d had to commandeer the bus to drive him to the hospital.
‘What do you think your chances are?’ Derrick asked Nanny Piggins.
‘Well I’m pretty sure I can beat Mrs Thompson, because I know for a fact she forgot her glasses, but being so timid and shy she won’t have the courage to tell anyone,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘But surely she won’t drive the bus if she can’t see,’ protested Samantha.
‘I think she will,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘That is the extraordinary thing about shy people. They will often perform acts of supreme bravery and confidence just to get out of doing something that requires bravery and confidence.’
‘What about Miss George?’ asked Michael. ‘She seems nice.’
‘I know,’ agreed Nanny Piggins, ‘and having actually driven a bus before could give her an advantage.’
‘All right, ladies,’ called Headmaster Pimplestock. ‘You will each take it in turn to drive around this obstacle course. You get 100 points if you make it around the course in less than 60 seconds. But you lose points for hitting orange cones or life-sized cardboard cut-outs of teaching staff or students.’
‘How many points for a member of teaching staff?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘Five points,’ said Headmaster Pimplestock.
‘What? Even a maths teacher?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘Of course. They’re people, aren’t they?’ said Headmaster Pimplestock.
‘That’s debatable,’ muttered Derrick.
‘Remember, points are bad, Nanny Piggins,’ explained Samantha. ‘You’re not meant to hit the teachers.’
‘Well, that’s silly,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘This game would be a lot more fun if they played it the other way round.’
‘You’re up first, Mrs Thompson,’ called Headmaster Pimplestock.
‘Good luck,’ Nanny Piggins told her.
‘So where are these orange cones?’ Mrs Thompson asked in a whisper, as she squinted in the general direction of the course.
‘They’re kind of everywhere,’ said Derrick.
‘Oh dear,’ said Mrs Thompson.
‘But if it’s any help to you,’ added Nanny Piggins, ‘the senior librarian’s car is that lime green one over there.’
Mrs Thompson peered into the distance. ‘Oh thank you, yes, that will do.’
Mrs Thompson got behind the wheel of the bus, turned the engine on and gunned it for the senior librarian’s car. Fortunately for the senior librarian, Mrs Thompson did not know how to get the bus out of first gear, so when she hit her boss’ car she was only going at eight kilometres per hour. But still, a six-tonne bus will make quite a mess of a small Japanese hatchback.
‘What are you doing?’ screamed Headmaster Pimplestock as he ran over to the crash site.
‘Sorry,’ said Mrs Thompson. ‘My foot slipped on the accelerator.’
‘But you steered straight for this car!’ exclaimed Headmaster Pimplestock.
‘My elbow locked,’ explained Mrs Thompson. ‘It must be my carpal tunnel from having to stamp books all day.’
Luckily the bus was of the old-fashioned solid steel variety and it sustained barely any damage at all. So it was soon Miss George’s turn to demonstrate her driving skill.
‘All right Miss George,’ said Headmaster Pimplestock. ‘Now you just have to get the bus safely round the course. Given the character deficiencies of our other applicant –’ He glared meaningfully at Nanny Piggins – ‘if you just get through, the job is yours.’
‘Can I have the key then?’ asked Miss George.
‘Of course,’ said Headmaster Pimplestock, handing it over.
Miss George got in the driver’s seat and then began doing up her seatbelt, adjusting the mirrors and setting the radio to her favourite station.
‘I don’t know why you bother staying,’ Headmaster Pimplestock said to Nanny Piggins. ‘Miss George is obviously going to get the job.’
‘Maybe,’ said Nanny Piggins with a scowl. She thought Miss George was going to get the job too. But life had taught her to expect the unexpected. There was still a chance that there would be a sudden storm and a bolt of lightning would somehow find its way in through the bus’ sunro
of, frying Miss George at the wheel. Or a rabid squirrel could burrow up through the bus’ linoleum floor and savage Miss George’s ankle. You never knew.
The engine rumbled into life, and Miss George opened the driver’s window. ‘Headmaster?’ she called.
‘Yes?’ replied Headmaster Pimplestock.
‘I’d just like you to know,’ continued Miss George, now with a big grin on her face, ‘that I am a bus thief and I’m stealing your bus!’
‘What the de–?!’ exploded Headmaster Pimplestock.
But no-one heard what Headmaster Pimplestock said next because at that moment Miss George gunned the engine. And unlike Mrs Thompson, Miss George knew how to take the bus out of first gear and whip it up to fifth in a few seconds. She was soon blazing towards the school gates.
‘Wow!’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Children, this just goes to show, you should never underestimate someone. Just because they look dull and sound dull doesn’t mean they aren’t a crazy bus thief.’
‘Stop that bus! Stop that bus!’ screamed Headmaster Pimplestock as he chased after her. Though goodness knows what he thought he was doing. He was hardly going to catch up to a bus travelling at 100 kilometres an hour. And even if he did, he could hardly stop it with his bare hands. The children suspected that the only reason Headmaster Pimplestock was running after the bus was so that he could run away from Nanny Piggins and not have to see her smirk.
But fortunately for Headmaster Pimplestock, at this point something unexpected happened. When Miss George bared down on the school gates, everyone assumed she would smash right through the chain link gate. But everyone had underestimated Enrico Martinez, the school janitor.
You see, what no-one realised was that Enrico Martinez, or Dr Martinez as he was known in his own country, held a PhD in aeronautical engineering. The only reason he was working as a janitor was because during all the years he had spent learning about atmospheric pressure, structural loads and material science as it applied to propulsion, he had entirely forgotten to learn English.
And having become a janitor through necessity, he discovered that it was actually a much nicer job than being a brilliant scientist. After picking up all the rubbish and fixing the damage to the oleander hedge, there was a lot of time for drinking coffee, listening to the radio and doing crosswords.
But Enrico had become tired of replacing the school gate every time Nanny Piggins smashed through it with Mr Green’s Rolls-Royce. (She had done so on several occasions. In fact, sometimes when she was annoyed with Headmaster Pimplestock she went and shut the gate just so she could drive through it to punish him.) As such, Enrico had rebuilt the school gate using the latest alloy technology and shock absorption systems.
All of which meant that when Miss George hit the school gates, instead of smashing through, the bus was actually trapped in the metal, and a remote control system immediately called the police station to report the crime.
After Miss George had been dragged away and the bus had been retrieved intact, a very smug Nanny Piggins stood in the parking lot waiting her turn to show off her driving skills.
Headmaster Pimplestock was a defeated man.
‘My turn,’ said Nanny Piggins with a smile. ‘The key, please.’
Headmaster Pimplestock handed Nanny Piggins the key. The only comfort he took was that he had ridden a bicycle to school that day, so there was no way Nanny Piggins could damage his car.
Nanny Piggins got in the driver’s seat and started the engine. Then she realised that her trotters were too short to reach the pedals.
‘If you’re too short to drive the bus . . .’ began Headmaster Pimplestock with a spark of optimism.
‘Piffle!’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I’ll just drive standing up.’
‘But will you be able to see?’ asked Samantha.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Nanny Piggins confidently. ‘I’ve memorised where the cones and cut-outs are.’ With that she punched the accelerator with her trotter and took off.
It turns out that even though she was not a bus thief, Nanny Piggins could still drive faster than Miss George. She zipped around the course like she was driving a Lamborghini. And she did not touch one traffic cone or cardboard cut-out the whole way round – until the finish line came in sight, where there was a cardboard cut-out of Headmaster Pimplestock on the side of the road. Nanny Piggins could not resist. She swerved to drive straight over the top of it, mashing the headmaster’s image into the bitumen, then righted her course and crossed the line.
‘You deliberately ran me down!’ complained Headmaster Pimplestock.
‘Yes, but that was my only mistake so I still got 95 points,’ explained Nanny Piggins happily.
‘You would never drive that way in real life though, would you?’ asked Headmaster Pimplestock.
‘Oh, of course not,’ fibbed Nanny Piggins.
And so Nanny Piggins got the job. It came with a uniform, which Nanny Piggins immediately burnt because it was so ugly. Except for the hat. She liked the official-looking badge in the centre of the blue cap and she found she looked even more fabulous than usual if she wore it perched on her head at a jaunty angle.
The children soon found that the best thing about having their nanny become a bus driver was that there was no more waiting at the bus stop. Nanny Piggins backed the bus right into their driveway to pick them up. Then they all set off to pick up the other children.
Boris came along too. He loved riding on the bus. It was the only type of vehicle that made him feel thin.
And all the children were very pleased to see Nanny Piggins because, unlike the former bus driver, she did not have a deep hatred of children. She actually picked up the children from every bus stop and waited until they had both feet inside the bus before pulling away.
Samson and Margaret Wallace were the last two children to climb aboard. Their nanny, Nanny Anne, was with them.
‘Moonlighting again are you, Nanny Piggins?’ she asked slyly.
‘Sorry, what was that? I can’t hear you,’ said Nanny Piggins.
Nanny Anne stepped closer. ‘I said, moonlighting again . . .’
Nanny Piggins cupped her trotter to her ear, ‘Nope, can’t hear you, come closer.’
Nanny Anne took another step forward. ‘I said, moon–’
Nanny Piggins shut the bus door, bumping Nanny Anne’s nose and making a satisfying pneumatic sound that drowned out her unsolicited advice.
‘All right, is everybody aboard?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
‘Yep,’ confirmed Samantha, double-checking the list.
‘Time to go to school,’ added Derrick.
‘Rightio then,’ said Nanny Piggins. She turned on the engine, found first gear and adjusted her cap. ‘Let’s –’ Nanny Piggins turned to glance at her passengers and she froze.
Nanny Anne started tapping at the window. ‘What’s going on?’ her muffled voice demanded.
‘Is something wrong, Nanny Piggins?’ asked Michael.
‘I can’t do it,’ muttered Nanny Piggins, as she looked at the 40 young faces.
‘What?’ asked Samantha, starting to panic. She knew it wouldn’t last, her nanny was going to break the rules again.
‘I can’t take these children to school. I don’t believe in school,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘What if the teachers are planning to do something awful to them, like give them a maths test?’
The Green children looked at each other. ‘Actually they are,’ confessed Derrick. ‘Today is the day for the school’s annual standardised examinations.’
Nanny Piggins looked at the bus full of children. ‘Is this true? Do you all have tests today?’
The children nodded. Except for one small girl, who had not done her homework for six months because she had secretly been watching both The Young and The Irritable and The Bold and the Spi
teful in her room every night when she was supposed to be revising maths. She burst into tears.
‘You poor, poor children,’ sympathised Nanny Piggins. ‘Don’t worry, I’m here now. I’ll save you!’
‘What are you going to do?’ wailed Samantha. She disliked standardised testing as much as the next child (seeing all those tiny boxes marked A, B, C and D made her want to be sick), but the thought of not doing them and getting zero for everything horrified her even more.
‘I’m going to get you out of here,’ declared Nanny Piggins, hitting the accelerator and doing a U-turn.
As they powered down the road, the children could hear the cries of Nanny Anne fading behind them as she yelled, ‘Come back! You’re going the wrong way!’
‘Where are we going?’ asked Derrick, not wanting to discourage his nanny but curious about what she had in mind.
‘First we have to stop for supplies,’ said Nanny Piggins.
‘At an army disposals store so we can prepare for a lifetime on the run?’ asked Michael.
‘No, although we may do that later,’ conceded Nanny Piggins. ‘We have to get essential supplies first. Which means we’ll have to stop by Hans’ bakery. It’s Tuesday and as you know he bakes caramel éclairs on Tuesdays. We can’t miss that.’
Nanny Piggins brought the bus to a screeching halt out the front of the bakery.
‘All right, everybody inside. Today I am going to give you a real education, starting with maths,’ announced Nanny Piggins.
The children groaned. There is something about maths – even children who are good at it don’t particularly enjoy it.
‘The type of maths I shall teach you today is the most essential type of maths you will ever need to know,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Even more important than how to convert your shoe size from European to North American sizes. And way, way, way more important than any of that calculus nonsense that Pythagoras fellow made up. Why he couldn’t just accept that a triangle is just a triangle and get on with his life is beyond me.’