Nanny Piggins and the Daring Rescue 7

by R. A. Spratt

  ‘But how are you going to change the President’s mind?’ asked Derrick. ‘I mean, it seems obvious to us that Father is not a wonderful person, but a vile and cowardly bottom-feeder, no offense.’

  ‘None taken,’ said Mr Green. ‘It would be unprofessional for a tax lawyer to be anything less.’

  ‘But the people here seem convinced otherwise,’ said Derrick.

  ‘Oh, I’m not going to argue with the President,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Arguing almost never works. It just makes your throat sore from all the yelling, and your fingers sore from trying to bang the other person’s head against the wall.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’ asked Michael.

  ‘I’m going to bewitch him,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I’m going to appeal to his baser instincts.’

  ‘How?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘The Dance of the Seven Cakes,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  ‘No!’ gasped Boris.

  ‘I have to,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  ‘But last time you did that dance, every man in the room fell deeply in love with you,’ said Boris.

  ‘I know,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  ‘And there were 900 men in the room,’ said Boris.

  ‘It’s a powerful dance,’ agreed Nanny Piggins.

  ‘You’re going to seduce the President!’ exclaimed Samantha. ‘But he’s a married man.’

  ‘No, no, no,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I’m not going to seduce him. I’m no marriage wrecker. The seven cakes are going to seduce him.’

  ‘They are really good cakes,’ added Boris.

  ‘No man can resist them,’ added Nanny Piggins. ‘And once I have the President in my cakey thrall I will force him to give me Mr Green’s passport and allow him to leave the country.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Boris. He was a very encouraging brother.

  ‘Hogwash!’ exclaimed Mr Green, who was a very ungrateful man.

  ‘It doesn’t sound like it should work,’ agreed Samantha, ‘but almost everything Nanny Piggins tries does.’

  The following night there was a special event to welcome the Queen Alexandra, a huge cruise ship that had docked in the harbour that morning. Lots of wealthy tourists had disembarked and spent the day spending money, so the President himself was hosting a magnificent feast.

  The decorations were spectacular and the food was delicious. Somehow the local people managed to even get fish to taste good. Their trick was to bury the fish in a hole with hot coals and leave it there a long time, before taking it out and tipping a bucket of cream over it (the French influence on the local cuisine).

  Boris, Derrick, Samantha and Michael were all at the feast because the Great Mr Green could take as many guests as he wanted. But Nanny Piggins was strangely absent.

  ‘Do you know what she’s up to?’ Derrick asked Boris as he tucked into fifth helpings of dessert.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Boris, ‘but I did catch her eyeing that ceremonial cannon they have down at the docks for saluting passing ships.’

  ‘Perhaps she’s planning to fire Father out to sea,’ suggested Michael.

  ‘What!’ exclaimed Mr Green, looking up from his bowl of ice-cream and puffing out his chest, ready to be outraged. ‘How dare –’

  But he was suddenly silenced by a deafening cannon blast.

  BOOM!

  The astonished crowd looked up to see a pig sail through the air at missile speed and crash into the top of the marquee, bounce off and land right in a huge creamy trifle in the middle of the dessert table.

  ‘Mmm, delicious,’ said Nanny Piggins as she stood up and licked the cream from her face. ‘Now that I have your attention, I have something to show you.’ She scraped the cream away from her outfit, and the crowd was shocked to see the most spectacular sight – the world’s most glamorous flying pig wearing seven large cakes.

  There was a collective intake of breath. Never had they seen a pig or seven cakes that looked so beautiful.

  ‘What do you want?’ demanded the President, struggling to his feet. ‘Why do you come here and interrupt our celebrations? I have already told you – you may not take back the Great Mr Green.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Nanny Piggins provocatively, ‘if you feel the same way after you have seen my dance and eaten my cake.’

  The music started up. (Fortunately Boris had had the foresight to pack a piano accordion in his suitcase. With a sister like Nanny Piggins he never knew when he would be called upon to play provocative accordion music.)

  Nanny Piggins began to dance. It was like watching a snake hypnotise its prey. She wiggled, sashayed and shimmied, all while showing off her greatest assets – her cakes. First she would dance right up to the President and flaunt her lemon drizzle under his nose; next she would tease him with her chocolate mud; then just as the drool spilled from his mouth she’d whip out her coconut cream cake and make his mouth water. The dance went on for a full fifty minutes. Nanny Piggins held her audience completely riveted. By the time she was finished the whole crowd was begging and pleading for just one taste, one mouthful of her delicious wares. Nanny Piggins stood panting in triumph, the seven cakes laid out in a line before her.

  ‘Well, Mr President, what do you say?’ she asked. ‘If you give me Mr Green, I will give you all seven of these cakes.’

  The crowd started yelling. ‘Take it!’, ‘Do as she asks!’ and ‘Give me a bite!’

  The President held up his hand for silence.

  ‘You are a dangerous woman, Nanny Piggins,’ said the President.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  ‘But I will not give you what you ask for,’ he continued.

  ‘Nooo!’ called the crowd. ‘We want the cake!’ ‘Make Nanny Piggins President!’

  The President held up his hand for silence again.

  ‘You have truly tempted me with your cakes. I have never in my life smelled finer baked goods, and I once took a totally unjustified three-month junket to Paris where I did nothing but eat cake three meals a day, so I know,’ continued the President. ‘But you have forgotten one thing.’

  ‘Really,’ said Nanny Piggins, checking the back of her trotter. ‘Usually I write myself a note on the back of my trotter if I think I’m going to forget something.’

  ‘You have forgotten,’ continued the President, ‘that I am the President. As such I can eat my cake and have my national hero too.’

  ‘What?’ said Nanny Piggins, struggling to understand.

  ‘Bring me the cake!’ ordered the President. Several public servants rushed forward, scooped up the cakes and took it to their President. ‘Police, escort Mr Green back to his luxury villa! He is not going anywhere.’

  Nanny Piggins was dumbfounded. She knew she should be biting someone’s shins but she didn’t know where to start. ‘I have travelled around the world 17 times, which is 16 times more than I wanted to, and in all that time I have never met such an immoral cake lover. How could you do this to a fellow devotee of cake?’

  The President looked ashamed. ‘You are right, but I am a President. I have to put my people first.’

  Back at the luxury villa, Nanny Piggins, Boris, Mr Green and the children sat around the kitchen table, feeling despondent.

  ‘What a blow,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘It’s not so much that I mind about not rescuing your father . . .’

  ‘Hey! I’m sitting right here,’ complained Mr Green.

  ‘It’s the getting thwarted,’ continued Nanny Piggins. ‘I’m not used to getting thwarted.’

  ‘You would think it would be easier to smuggle someone off an island,’ said Boris. ‘Pirates used to smuggle things off islands all the time. And they wore eye-patches so they didn’t even have depth perception.’

  Nanny Piggins leapt up and kissed Boris.

  ‘You’ve just given me a brilliant idea!’ exclaimed Nanny Piggins.

  ‘I have?’ asked Boris. ‘That’s nice. I like it when I’m brilliant without even knowing it.’

&nb
sp; ‘All I need is a coconut bra, a red wig, a lot of sticky tape and a bed sheet,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I wonder if they have an all-night haberdasher in this town.’

  ‘Do they have an all-night haberdasher in any town?’ asked Derrick.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I’ll hunt down what I need.’ With which Nanny Piggins leapt out the window and ran off into the night.

  ‘What do you think she’s doing?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘Knowing my sister,’ said Boris, ‘she’s probably gone to the President’s house to get her cakes back.’

  When the children and Boris woke up the following morning, Nanny Piggins was nowhere to be found. Mr Green was missing too. But there was a note on the kitchen table.

  Meet me at the docks at midday.

  Love,

  NP

  When they arrived, there was a crowd gathered to see the Queen Alexandra set sail. Nanny Piggins was standing at the front, looking smug.

  ‘What have you done?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘You’ll see,’ said Nanny Piggins with a smile.

  ‘Where’s Father?’ asked Derrick.

  ‘All in good time,’ said Nanny Piggins mysteriously.

  The crowd started to buzz. The President’s car had pulled up. The band launched into the Vanuatu national anthem as the President got out and made his way over to the ceremonial area. He stopped when he came face-to-face with Nanny Piggins.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ demanded the President.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Nanny Piggins, with the exaggerated innocence only assumed by the devious.

  ‘I hope you’re not going to try to help Mr Green escape anymore?’ asked the President.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I’ve finished with that.’

  ‘By the way,’ said the President, leaning in and whispering. ‘Those cakes last night were delicious.’

  ‘I know,’ said Nanny Piggins.

  ‘I don’t suppose I could interest you in a job?’ asked the President. ‘Cabinet Secretary in Charge of Cake Baking?’

  The children held their breaths. They always knew the day would come when their nanny would be lured away by some spectacular career opportunity. And what could be better than living in the sun-drenched tropics and baking cake.

  ‘That is a very sweet offer,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘and I’m sure I would be very good at it. Fulfilling the cake needs of an entire nation would be rewarding. But I’m afraid I already have a much more important job – looking after these three children.’

  The children started breathing again.

  ‘Why?’ asked the President. ‘Are they especially difficult to take care of?’

  ‘They are humans,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘so yes, I do have to spend a lot of time correcting the wrong things they learn at school.’

  The President was ushered away to shake hands with the harbour master, the tourism minister and other important dignitaries. Then he took up his position by the ceremonial cannon on the dock.

  ‘Is that the cannon you blasted yourself out of last night?’ asked Michael.

  ‘Yes, she’s a beauty, isn’t she?’ said Nanny Piggins.

  ‘You haven’t stuffed Father in there have you?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘Goodness no,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘It wouldn’t be fair on such a lovely cannon. It’s high calibre but it’s not that high calibre.’

  As the ship drew away, the President was handed a torch that he used to reach forward and light the wick on the cannon. The fuse sizzled down to a nub and disappeared entirely. There was a moment of silence. Then . . .

  BOOM!

  The cannon fired a deafening salute to farewell the huge cruise ship. And the crowd cheered.

  ‘There’s cake for everyone in the hospitality tent!’ announced the President. The crowd cheered again, even louder this time.

  Everyone made their way over to the marquee to enjoy the refreshments – everyone except Nanny Piggins. She stood watching the boat sail away.

  ‘Nanny Piggins, didn’t you hear?’ asked Michael. ‘They are giving away free cake in the tent.’

  ‘I know,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘Very nice Dundee cake by the smell of it.’

  ‘But you’ve never turned down free cake before,’ said Derrick.

  ‘I’ll have some cake in a moment,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘I’m doing something more important right now.’

  The children gasped. They had never heard Nanny Piggins say anything was more important than cake, except perhaps chocolate.

  ‘But Nanny Piggins,’ said Samantha, fearing for her nanny’s sanity, ‘you’re just watching the ship sail away.’

  ‘I know,’ said Nanny Piggins, positively beginning to grin. ‘Tell me, do you like the figurehead?’

  Boris and the children looked at the statue on the front of the boat. It was a sculpture of a mermaid.

  ‘No, it’s frightfully ugly,’ said Derrick.

  ‘And slightly overweight,’ said Michael.

  ‘And . . . can I hear it yelling?’ asked Boris.

  Nanny Piggins smiled even wider. ‘Probably,’ she agreed.

  ‘Where’s Father?’ asked Samantha, starting to put the pieces together.

  ‘I know it is not the prettiest figurehead,’ admitted Nanny Piggins, ‘but it is the prettiest your father has ever looked.’

  ‘He’s going to sail all the way home strapped to the front of a boat?!’ exclaimed Michael.

  ‘I gave him plenty of supplies,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘There are two large chocolate cakes tucked into his coconut bra.’

  ‘You did it!’ marvelled Michael. ‘You rescued Father.’

  ‘And I arranged a lovely cruise for him,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘It’ll be five days before the ship docks somewhere with an international airport, then another day for him to arrange a flight and fly home. Which means we can enjoy another six days in Vanuatu and still beat him back.’

  ‘Hurray!’ exclaimed Boris and the children.

  ‘What shall we do first?’ asked Derrick.

  ‘Swimming?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘Scuba diving?’ asked Michael.

  ‘Kayaking?’ asked Boris.

  ‘Oh, we’ll do all those things,’ agreed Nanny Piggins, ‘but first, let’s pay a little visit to the cake tent.’

  And so by the time Nanny Piggins, Boris and the children returned home, everything was back to normal. Mr Green was soon back in his dank basement office, pretending he had never been held hostage by a grateful nation. Even Isabella Dunkhurst had woken up and gone straight back to work. (When her personal secretary had visited her in hospital and told her all about the efficiency experts, she had snapped out of the coma immediately, gone straight to the office – still in her hospital gown – and applied her tap shoe firmly to their buttocks.)

  The only difference was that Nanny Piggins, Boris and the children now looked even more windswept and fabulous after a week of frolicking at the beach and eating healthy (cream-laden) French food. In the end Nanny Piggins had actually had to bribe the President with another seven mouth-wateringly delicious cakes to let her leave. (He had seriously considered holding her hostage because he found her lemon drizzle so delicious.)

  ‘Do you regret not staying and taking that job as Cabinet Secretary in Charge of Cake Baking?’ asked Samantha.

  ‘It would have been a wonderful opportunity,’ added Michael.

  ‘You could have gone to the United Nations and fought for international cake rights,’ added Derrick.

  ‘I know,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘But I don’t think you understand just how big a responsibility it is for me to look after you three.’

  ‘Is looking after us that hard?’ asked Samantha, her chin beginning to wobble.

  ‘Oh yes, very hard,’ said Nanny Piggins, ‘because I love you, so I need to spend every moment of every day watching you like a hawk, to make sure that you never ever miss out on an opportunity to eat cake, lick ice-cream or generally have a won
derful time.’

  And so the children hugged their nanny, glad to be home and safe again, with no-one being held hostage by a foreign leader – at least, for the time being.

  About the Author

  R. A. Spratt is an award-winning comedy writer with fourteen years’ experience in the television industry. She lives in Sydney with her husband and two daughters. Unlike Nanny Piggins, she has never willingly been blasted out of a cannon.

  To find out more, visit www.raspratt.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  Version 1.0

  Nanny Piggins and the Daring Rescue

  Published by Random House Australia 2012

  R. A. Spratt © 2012

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  A Random House Australia book

  Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd

  Level 3, 100 Pacific Highway, North Sydney NSW, 2060

  www.randomhouse.com.au

  Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au/offices

  First published by Random House Australia in 2012

  National Library of Australia

  Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry

  Author: Spratt, R. A.

  Title: Nanny Piggins and the daring rescue [electronic resource] / R.A. Spratt.

  ISBN: 978 1 74275 498 7 (eBook)

  Series: Nanny Piggins; 7.

  Target Audience: For primary school age.

  Dewey Number: A823.4

  Cover illustration by Gypsy Taylor

  Cover design by Christabella Designs

  Internal design by Jobi Murphy