Nanny Piggins and the Wicked Plan

by R. A. Spratt

  ‘I suppose that might have something to do with it,’ conceded Nanny Piggins. ‘Humans can be very weak sometimes.’

  ‘It’s our own fault,’ said the doctor humbly. ‘We’re not lucky enough to have your superior digestive capabilities.’

  ‘True,’ acknowledged Nanny Piggins.

  And so Nanny Piggins and the doctor came to an agreement. She would stop being a holistic cake healer right outside his surgery. And he would make sure he saw all his patients as promptly as possible. No more sneaking out the back door to play video games. (He admitted that was what he had been doing.) And if for some unforeseen reason, a patient did have to wait for more than ten minutes, the doctor would provide them with a slice of cake – one for every ten minutes they were delayed, until he was able to see them.

  This regimen worked beautifully. All the doctor’s patients returned. They were glad to be seen more promptly. And they were even more glad when he could not see them promptly because they enjoyed eating cake. Indeed, sometimes, when she was hungry, Nanny Piggins went along and sat in the waiting room without putting her name down, just so she could have a slice of cake too.

  Nanny Piggins was relaxing in the bath. She had been in there so long, her skin was even pinker than usual and the paperback she was reading had fallen in the water three times. So, as she read, she had to carefully peel back each page or she might tear it (and subsequently never find out who murdered Mrs Bottomly in the conservatory with a pair of long-handled garden shears). Nanny Piggins had one rule when she was in the bath: ‘Don’t interrupt me unless you’re bringing a snack.’

  So when a noise disturbed her and Nanny Piggins looked up to see a chocolate bar sliding under the door, she knew one of the children was outside and wanted to speak to her.

  ‘Yes?’ said Nanny Piggins. (She was curt because she was not entirely ready to tear herself away from the world of brutal murder just yet.)

  ‘Nanny Piggins, there was someone at the door,’ said Derrick.

  ‘Well if they’ve gone away, what’s the problem?’ asked Nanny Piggins, still furtively reading to find out if her suspicions were true, and that cousin Gertrude the physicist was the one who put the poison in the gardener’s hot chocolate.

  ‘He was at the door, now he’s climbing up the drainpipe,’ explained Derrick.

  ‘The Ringmaster!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins, as she leapt out of the bath. For she knew only one man impertinent enough to take a closed front door as an invitation to climb up the outside of the building and in through an upstairs window.

  And indeed, she had barely wrapped herself in her robe before the bathroom window was shoved open and the Ringmaster’s fat bottom started to wiggle its way into the room. Nanny Piggins instinctively picked up the toilet brush and hit him hard. (Nanny Piggins would never dream of spanking children. But in her professional opinion most fully grown men could do with a good spanking at least once a day.)

  Surprisingly, the Ringmaster did not say ‘Ow!’, although we must presume he thought it. Instead he turned to Nanny Piggins, with the most sickeningly insincere smile on his face, and said, ‘Sarah Piggins, what a wonderful surprise!’ Then he kissed her loudly on each cheek. To which Nanny Piggins naturally responded by stomping hard on his foot. (This was the way Nanny Piggins and the Ringmaster always greeted each other. There was a time when Nanny Piggins would go to the trouble of biting his leg every time they met. But one day she got a piece of his trousers caught between her teeth and she had to go to the dentist, so she did not risk that anymore.)

  ‘I am not coming back to your circus to be a flying pig again,’ declared Nanny Piggins boldly.

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it,’ lied the Ringmaster.

  ‘Really? Well I know for a fact that my sister Katerina, who replaced me as your flying pig, has recently run away from you,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  ‘That was entirely my own fault,’ said the Ringmaster. ‘Given her inexplicable love of vegetables I should never have taken the circus to Wales. The local leeks were always going to be impossible for her to resist.’

  ‘True,’ agreed Nanny Piggins. Katerina was obsessed when it came to green vegetables. ‘But I’m still not going back to being a flying pig.’ (Not that Nanny Piggins minded the actual flying part of being a flying pig. She just did not enjoy the no-hot-and-cold-running-water part of living in a circus.)

  ‘There is no need for you to return to the circus,’ said the Ringmaster. ‘We have replaced your sister with a flying chicken.’

  ‘What’s so remarkable about a flying chicken?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘All chickens can fly.’

  ‘We put the chicken in a pig costume,’ explained the Ringmaster.

  ‘Ah,’ said Nanny Piggins. This made perfect sense. ‘So why exactly have you invaded my private bathroom. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hit you with the toilet brush again?’

  ‘I’ve just come to catch up with a dear old friend,’ said the Ringmaster.

  ‘Who?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

  ‘You,’ said the Ringmaster.

  Nanny Piggins hit the Ringmaster on the leg with the toilet brush just for good measure. ‘You know perfectly well we are not good friends, but arch enemies.’

  ‘Are you all right in there, Nanny Piggins?’ asked Samantha from the other side of the bathroom door. ‘Would you like us to call the police or something?’

  ‘I’d like you to fetch me the fire poker,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘The toilet brush doesn’t seem to hurt enough.’

  ‘All right, I’ll admit, I was wondering if you could do me a little favour. Not so much for me, but for another dear friend of mine who is having a terrible career crisis,’ said the Ringmaster.

  ‘If she works for you I’m not surprised she’s having a career crisis,’ said Nanny Piggins, who had herself chewed through a thick canvas tent and stolen an Indian elephant in her bid to escape the Ringmaster’s workplace.

  ‘She’s waiting outside. I’ll bring her in,’ said the Ringmaster. ‘Would you like to dress and come downstairs, or should I get her to climb up and in through the bathroom window?’

  Nanny Piggins whacked the Ringmaster one more time for his impertinence, then followed him downstairs. She did not get dressed because she knew if she took her eyes off the Ringmaster for two seconds, the children would go missing and turn up three months later in Belorussia working as trapeze artists. It was not so much that the Ringmaster was evil (although he certainly was) as that he could not help himself. Being a true showman, he was always recruiting new talent whether they wanted to be recruited or not.

  Nanny Piggins and the children sat in the living room, waiting for the Ringmaster to return with his troubled protégé. Boris was there too, but he was still frightened of the Ringmaster, so he hid underneath the hearth rug.

  The Ringmaster returned a few moments later with a woman. But to call her a woman is not really fair on women generally. Because she was so dazzlingly beautiful and gorgeous it was as if she belonged to another species. She had all the stereotypical attributes associated with beauty. She was tall and skinny, and her hair was so shiny it looked like it had been painted with decking oil. Nanny Piggins’ instinct was to hate her immediately. But then the tall, thin, beautiful woman shocked Nanny Piggins by saying, ‘Sarah Piggins, how wonderful to see you again!’ and giving her a big hug.

  Nanny Piggins wished she had brought the toilet brush downstairs so she could hit this strange woman too. ‘I’ve never seen you before in my life,’ declared Nanny Piggins.

  ‘Oh yes you have,’ said the Ringmaster. ‘It’s Lavinia.’

  ‘You remember me, don’t you? From the circus?’ asked Lavinia.

  Nanny Piggins squinted at Lavinia closely. ‘The only Lavinia I know was Lavinia the Fat Lady.’

  ‘Exactly. That’s the problem. This is my Fat Lady,’ said the Ringmaster, pointing at Lavinia with disgust.

  Lavinia looked ashamed of herself.

  ‘No!’ gasped Nanny Piggin
s. ‘The last time I saw you, you weighed four hundred kilograms.’

  ‘Hey,’ came the muffled cry of Boris from under the carpet.

  ‘Not that that’s a lot,’ said Nanny Piggins hastily, for she did not want to hurt her brother’s feelings. Boris weighed over seven hundred kilograms and was very sensitive about the subject.

  Nanny Piggins looked Lavinia up and down. ‘What happened to you? Did you get some sort of intestinal parasite? Or did an evil villain lock you in a cellar and force you to eat muesli?’ Nanny Piggins eyed the Ringmaster as she said this. It was just the type of thing he would do.

  ‘No,’ said Lavinia. She was obviously both embarrassed and ashamed.

  ‘Tell her,’ said the Ringmaster sternly.

  ‘Do I have to?’ pleaded Lavinia.

  ‘If she is going to help you, she needs to know the truth,’ said the Ringmaster.

  ‘But I’m so ashamed,’ protested Lavinia.

  ‘All the more reason to make a clean breast of it,’ said the Ringmaster.

  ‘My aunt –’ Lavinia broke off as she started to sob. ‘Spit it out,’ urged the Ringmaster.

  ‘My aunt gave me an aerobics video for Christmas,’ admitted Lavinia, breaking into tears.

  Nanny Piggins gasped.

  Boris gasped. Then he choked and coughed because he had sucked in a mouthful of dust under the carpet.

  ‘What was she thinking?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘You’re a Fat Lady!’

  ‘I know,’ said Lavinia the Fat Lady.

  ‘Tell her the rest,’ said the Ringmaster severely.

  ‘There’s more?’ asked Nanny Piggins, who did not think she could be more shocked.

  ‘I went on a diet,’ admitted Lavinia.

  ‘No!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins.

  ‘Niet!’ exclaimed Boris, who was so shocked he reverted to speaking Russian.

  ‘And –’ cajoled the Ringmaster, ‘tell her everything.’

  ‘I started jogging,’ admitted Lavinia as tears of shame rolled down her cheeks.

  ‘You poor, poor woman,’ said Nanny Piggins, taking Lavinia in her arms and giving her a hug.

  ‘I don’t know what to do,’ sobbed Lavinia. ‘I’ve ruined my career. Being a Fat Lady is all I know.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Nanny Piggins comfortingly. ‘You’ve come to the right place. We will help you. You’ll soon be so disgustingly fat, people will pay to point at you and stare again.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ asked Lavinia hopefully.

  ‘No-one knows more about eating high-calorie food than Nanny Piggins,’ Michael assured her.

  ‘Thank you, thank you so much,’ wept Lavinia.

  ‘Excellent,’ exclaimed the Ringmaster. ‘Lavinia needs to be five times her current body weight by a week from Friday because we’re taking the circus to Morocco.’

  ‘Get out of this house before I risk my teeth and bite you on the leg,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  Fortunately Nanny Piggins did not have to carry out her threat because the Ringmaster had already done a commando leap out of the living room window and was running off down the street.

  Nanny Piggins turned and looked at the sorry sight of the svelte and beautiful Fat Lady. ‘I hardly know where to begin,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Yes I do! Lie down,’ ordered Nanny Piggins.

  ‘What, here on the floor?’ asked Lavinia the thin Fat Lady.

  ‘Just do it! Right now. You have to stop exercising immediately. Standing up is burning too many calories,’ declared Nanny Piggins.

  Lavinia dropped to the floor. Because, despite being thin and beautiful on the outside, she was fat at heart, and as such, very kind and obedient.

  ‘But how am I going to get about?’ asked Lavinia from her position on the floor.

  ‘Boris will carry you,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  ‘Boris?!’ said Lavinia and Boris simultaneously. Lavinia because she had not realised that Boris was there, and Boris because he did not realise that Lavinia stopping doing exercise meant he was going to have to start doing exercise.

  ‘Look at her, Boris. She’s so thin. She desperately needs your help,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  Boris poked his head out from under the carpet and got his first look at Lavinia. He had to admit she was skinny. ‘I’ll barely notice carrying her,’ said Boris.

  ‘He carried a hitchhiker around for a week without noticing,’ explained Michael.

  ‘I actually ended up noticing the smell. He didn’t bathe as often as he should,’ added Boris.

  Lavinia was delighted to see Boris. They were old friends from the circus and would often share a litre of honey together. ‘I didn’t realise you were hiding under the carpet, Boris. I thought Nanny Piggins had just swept a lot of rubbish under there.’

  ‘Oh no. I would never do that. I always sweep the rubbish under the carpet behind the couch. It’s much less noticeable,’ said Nanny Piggins, pointing to an even lumpier carpet on the other side of the room.

  ‘Where do we start?’ asked Lavinia.

  ‘The first thing we need to do is go to the bakery and buy some cakes,’ decided Nanny Piggins.

  ‘Because eating cake is a good way to gain weight?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘No, because eating cake helps you think,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘But I suppose it will be good for that too.’

  And so Nanny Piggins, Boris, Lavinia and the children walked down to the bakery. Boris pushed Lavinia in a wheelbarrow, so she would not burn any calories, but she could look about and point at things she might like to eat.

  They stood outside the bakery, looking in through the window at the display of cakes for some time. Nanny Piggins believed buying cake was a serious decision-making process that should never be rushed. Fortunately Hans the baker was very understanding about it. He employed a full-time staff member, Michelle, just for cleaning the marks customers left from pressing their noses against his window. (All truly good bakeries have to.)

  ‘If Lavinia is going to gain hundreds and hundreds of kilograms, she is going to have to eat a lot of cake,’ said Samantha.

  ‘Of course,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘We will all have to eat a lot of cake. Because it would be unsupportive to force Lavinia to do it all on her own.’

  ‘But how are we going to afford all that cake?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘Fortunately, I had the foresight to sell one of your father’s valuable tax law books on the internet last night,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  ‘You did?’ asked Derrick, feeling both horrified and thrilled at the same time.

  ‘Yes, I sell something of his every time he irritates me. So I usually sell five or six things of his every night. On Tuesday last week, when he complained that I hadn’t ironed his underwear, I sold seventeen pairs of his cufflinks to a Russian Mafioso,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  ‘But what if Father finds out?’ asked Michael.

  ‘I’ll give him the Russian Mafioso’s address and encourage him to try to get them back,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Come on, let’s go inside and place our order.’

  They all went into the shop.

  ‘What would you like, Lavinia?’ asked Nanny Piggins.

  ‘A salad,’ said Lavinia, without realising what she was saying. Her hands flew to her mouth as if to catch the already escaped words. ‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.’ Tears welled in her eyes.

  ‘It’s all right, dear,’ said Nanny Piggins firmly. ‘We’re here to help you. Let me make the decisions.’ Nanny Piggins proceeded to order enough cake, meringue and doughnuts to give a battalion of soldiers a sugar high for twelve months. Hans the baker soon realised he would have to hire a full-sized removalist’s truck to convey all the cake to the Green house. But Nanny Piggins was far and away his best customer, so it would be worth the extra cost.

  Back at the Green house Nanny Piggins was ready to commence phase two – the eating. Nanny Piggins drew up a schedule so she, Boris and the children could take it in turns feeding Lavinia. Lavinia had offere
d to feed herself but Nanny Piggins would not let her. She was concerned that picking up the food and putting it in her mouth would burn too many calories. Chewing was obviously a problem. Nanny Piggins had tried to think of a way to get around Lavinia having to chew. All that up and down movement of her jaw was bound to use energy. But all the solutions to bypass chewing were too disgusting to consider.

  Things progressed well for the first seven hours. Lavinia might be thin and beautiful, but she had been a professional Fat Lady for many years and she still had impressive eating skills. Once a woman learns to shove an entire cream-covered pavlova in her mouth, that is a talent she never loses. So the eating went smoothly until night fell and it was Michael’s turn to do the handfeeding.

  Now you must remember that Michael was only seven. Which was not his fault. He had no say in when he was born. And the thing about seven-year-olds, indeed all young children, is that when they fall asleep, they really fall asleep. People in comas sleep less soundly than the average seven-year-old. Nanny Piggins believed this was because of all the boring things that seven-year-olds are forced to learn at school. They have to sleep soundly while their brains try to expel the useless information.

  At any rate, when Nanny Piggins came downstairs to commence her five am feeding shift, she found Michael fast asleep at the kitchen table and Lavinia nowhere to be seen. Nanny Piggins was just about to panic when Lavinia slipped in the back door. ‘Good morning, Nanny Piggins. I just stepped outside to see if the sun was up yet,’ said Lavinia the thin Fat Lady.

  ‘Really?’ asked Nanny Piggins, squinting at her. ‘And what have I told you about walking?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ apologised Lavinia guiltily.

  Nanny Piggins suspected Lavinia had been up to something. ‘You do know that pigs have an incredibly acute sense of smell?’

  ‘No, I didn’t realise that,’ admitted Lavinia nervously.

  ‘We can smell aromas so faint even a large-nosed dog can’t imagine them,’ continued Nanny Piggins.

  ‘Really?’ said Lavinia. Now she was beginning to look nervous.

  ‘Like, for example,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘I can smell the sweat of a very naughty woman who has secretly been out jogging when she was supposed to be at home getting fat!’