The Adventures of Nanny Piggins Page 4

  * * *

  Painting a portrait turned out to be a lot more difficult than Nanny Piggins had anticipated. She knew the actual painting part would be easy. All you had to do was wipe paint onto canvas in the appropriate places. Any pig could do that. The hard part was deciding who to paint. According to the rules of the competition the portrait had to be of 'an important person'. So Nanny Piggins and the children wracked their minds all afternoon trying to think of somebody suitable.

  'We must know someone important,' said Nanny Piggins.

  'I can't think of anyone off the top of my head,' said Derrick.

  'What about the Headmaster Pimplestock from school?' asked Samantha.

  'Yuck! Nobody likes headmasters,' said Nanny Piggins dismissively.

  'How about Hans the baker,' asked Michael.

  'He's not important,' Samantha pointed out.

  'No, but he makes delicious custard tarts,' protested Michael.

  This weighed heavily with Nanny Piggins because she did like a custard tart almost as much as she liked a chocolate cake. But she suspected that the judges of the portrait prize would not share her high regard for the baking profession.

  'No, we need someone who has really done something special with their lives: a hero, an adventurer, a really glamorous person,' said Nanny Piggins.

  'Then why don't you paint a picture of you,' suggested Michael.

  'What?' asked Nanny Piggins.

  'Oh yes, that's a very good idea. When you do a portrait of yourself it's called a self-portrait. You could do one of those,' said Samantha.

  'Me?' said Nanny Piggins. She was not too sure.

  'Of course, you're someone who has really done something. You've been blasted out of a cannon night after night at the circus. And there was the time they accidentally put too much gun powder in the cannon and you were blasted right through the roof of the tent. I bet no other pig has ever done that,' said Derrick

  'True, true, very true,' agreed Nanny Piggins.

  'You have to be brave, heroic and an all-round glamorous person to be blasted out of a cannon,' agreed Samantha.

  'Everybody knows that,' says Michael, even though the thought had never occurred to him before.

  'You children all make good arguments,' said Nanny Piggins. 'I can see that I would make an excellent subject for a portrait. The only problem is how am I going to paint myself? I can't sit across the other side of the room from myself to get a good look at my appearance. No matter how fast I ran back and forth across the room, I could never get far enough away from myself to have a really good look.'

  The logic of this really did stump the children. They thought long and hard on it for at least ten seconds before Samantha had the second brilliant idea of the day. 'I know! You can look at yourself in a mirror,' she said.

  'Look at myself in a mirror,' Nanny Piggins said, considering this idea. 'Yes, I suppose that would work. The only problem would be that an image in a mirror is reversed, isn't it? So if I painted my reflection, everything would be all backwards. My left side would be on the right and the right side would be on the left.'

  The children all looked at themselves in the mirror, poking first the left side of their faces, then the right side, and they realised she was correct.

  'I know. We could cross our fingers and hope that none of the judges notice,' suggested Derrick.

  'That just might do the trick. After all, they were stupid enough to like those paintings from last year, so it's not as if they are particularly clever people,' said Nanny Piggins.

  * * *

  And so, that night, after a hearty dinner of caramel brownies and sherbet lemons (Mr Green was away and Nanny Piggins was in charge of deciding the menu), Nanny Piggins set to work on her portrait. And the children stayed up to watch her, enthralled to see a masterpiece created before their very eyes.

  As it turned out, Nanny Piggins was actually a very gifted painter. After all, you do not get to be the drawcard at a major travelling circus without having an artistic temperament. Just as Nanny Piggins had taken to being blasted out of a cannon the first time (she happened to be checking down the barrel of the cannon for cake at the exact moment they decided to test it), Nanny Piggins proved herself to be an accomplished painter on her first attempt.

  It is hard to describe what any great masterpiece looks like. You really need to see it for yourself to appreciate the beauty of the brushwork, the composition and the artist's use of colour. But I will try and describe Nanny Piggins' self-portrait for you. If you can imagine Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa, a mysterious, smiling woman dressed in black. Only instead of a human's face, imagine a pig's face. And instead of two folded human hands, imagine two folded pig trotters. Then you will have a perfect mental picture of Nanny Piggins' self-portrait. It was, in short, a breathtakingly brilliant artwork, the quality of which has not been seen since Leonardo da Vinci dropped dead in 1519.

  Nanny Piggins proudly handed in her self-portrait, without a doubt in her mind that the $50,000 would soon be hers.

  The judges had three days to decide the winner. And they were a lovely three days for Nanny Piggins and the children. Each day they played a marvellous game called 'What shall we spend the $50,000 on?' They all found this game endlessly entertaining because the more they thought about it, the more good ideas they came up with. Michael wanted to buy an elephant and ride it to school every day. Samantha wanted to buy a great big diamond, then shoot a laser through it to burn a hole in her maths teacher's car. And Derrick wanted to buy a speed boat so he could quit school and become a pirate.

  And so, before they knew it, they were being invited down to the gallery for the announcement of the prize. This was deemed to be such an important event by Nanny Piggins that she actually washed her face (using soap), even behind her ears, which destroyed several good smears of chocolate she had been saving for later.

  There was quite a crowd gathered ready to hear the announcement. 'You can tell which ones are the artists,' Nanny Piggins said loudly, for she could be instructive when she chose to be. 'They are the useless-looking ones wearing cardigans.' There were indeed several useless-looking, stroppy young men wearing cardigans among the crowd. And those that had heard Nanny Piggins' comment glared at her instead of glaring meaningfully into the middle distance like they normally did.

  But there was no time to consider their appalling dress sense because the director of the gallery was soon tapping the microphone and clearing his throat. Which is, supposedly, the polite way to say 'shut-up' before beginning a speech. 'Thank you all for coming . . .' the director started.

  Nanny Piggins just rolled her eyes. 'Get to the money!' she heckled.

  Th e director of the gallery ignored her and warbled on. Nanny Piggins passed toffees out to each of the children to fortify them through the inevitable speechifying. Some time later, after thanking every one of his friends by name and making several simpering comments he mistook for jokes, the director did finally get to the point. 'And now to announce the winner . . .' he said.

  Nanny Piggins swiftly pinched each of the children to make sure they were paying attention. 'But before I do . . .' he went on. Nanny Piggins and the children all groaned loudly. 'I have to announce that one of the entries, regrettably, had to be disqualified from the competition.'

  'Some twit didn't follow the rules,' guessed Nanny Piggins.

  'Unfortunately we had to disqualify "Self-Portrait of a Flying Pig" by Sarah Piggins.'

  'Why?' shrieked Nanny Piggins, hardly believing her ears.

  'Because portraits of pigs are not allowed in the competition,' explained the director.

  'But that's pigism,' bellowed Nanny Piggins. She was really cross now. 'How dare you stand up there and be piggist. In front of children too. You should be ashamed of yourself.'

  The director the gallery was very taken aback. He had never been yelled at by a pig before. 'I'm afraid there is nothing I can do. Samuel H. Wiseman, the founder of the Wiseman Portrait Prize, was very
specific when he set down the rules.'

  The director took out a copy of the rule booklet and read from the first page: 'Rule number 1 – the painting must be a portrait. Rule number 2 – the portrait must, under no circumstances whatsoever, be of a pig.'

  The whole crowd gasped.

  'Why on earth would he write such a mean, beastly, prejudiced rule?' demanded Nanny Piggins.

  'Well, I have done some research,' the director admitted, 'and according to his family records, he was attacked by a crazed pig when he was a small child. He obviously held a grudge for the rest of his life.'

  'A man like that shouldn't be allowed to set up art prizes,' Nanny Piggins said in disgust.

  'I'm dreadfully sorry,' said the director, before continuing with the rest of the prize-giving ceremony.

  The portrait prize did indeed go to a horrible painting that looked nothing like anybody, let alone the person it was supposed to be. Unless it was meant to be a picture of a person whose head was caught in a vice and covered in orange paint. But Nanny Piggins had stopped listening. She had lost all interest in portrait prizes now that she was not going to be given one. It was such a shame when they were all so terribly good at playing 'What Shall We Do With $50,000'.

  The director droned on and on about 'honour' and 'the importance of art' and 'prestige to the gallery', making Nanny Piggins wish she had brought some sponge cake to shove in her ears, but then what he was saying became interesting. 'Each year, as you know,' said the director, 'aside from the Wiseman Portrait Prize which is, of course, judged by the finest art critics in the country, there is another prize.'

  Nanny Piggins' ears immediately pricked up.

  'The security guards who stand in the gallery and look at the paintings all day long pick their own favourite. So now I'd like to introduce Guard Smith to announce the Guards' Prize.'

  Guard Smith approached the microphone. He was the same guard Nanny Piggins had spoken to a week earlier. And, thankfully, he had a much more direct style of speech-making than his employer. He cleared his throat and got right to it. 'This year's Guards' Prize goes to Sarah Piggins, on the grounds that her painting actually looks like what it is meant to. And I know because I've met her and it's the spitting image.'

  Tears streamed down Nanny Piggins' face as she climbed up on stage to accept the award.

  'Thank you, thank you so much,' Nanny Piggins gushed. 'It is good to know that there are still some people who truly appreciate real art.'

  'You're welcome,' said the guard. 'You certainly deserve it.' And with that, he handed her the Guards' Prize – a large packet of chocolate biscuits.

  Nanny Piggins clutched the biscuits to her chest. 'What a wonderful, wonderful prize,' she exclaimed. 'I'm glad I didn't win the Portrait Prize now. I'd much rather have some chocolate biscuits.'

  And they were really good biscuits. The type that have to be stored in the refrigerator because there's so much chocolate in them. Not that Nanny Piggins' packet ever made it that far. She and the children sat down and ate them all on the spot. They then returned home, completely satisfied that they'd had the better of the art establishment.

  CHAPTER 4

  Nanny Piggins and the

  Sherbet Lemon that Saved the Day

  Nanny Piggins and the three children were crouched on the kitchen floor, holding a cockroach race, when Mr Green entered. Now, one of the first things Nanny Piggins had taught the children was what to do if someone walks in on you when you are doing something bad. So when Mr Green burst in, the children did exactly as they had been trained – they stayed absolutely still and did not say a word, completely ignoring the four cockroaches as the creatures scattered across the floor in front of them. Nanny Piggins made a mental note to re-catch hers later because it was a big one with long legs and it would be a shame to let it run wild. Apart from making excellent racers, cockroaches can be tremendously handy for shocking hygienic people and clearing long queues at the deli.

  Mr Green saw nothing wrong with the disarray of furniture, or the fact that his children were sitting on the floor among an infestation of insects. Because, in truth, he was not looking at them. Whenever his children came into his eye-line, he looked through them. He found parenthood less disturbing that way. He had come into the room to impart the minimum possible information to the nanny and then retreat.

  Nanny Piggins could sense this, so she did not speak. She did not want to encourage him to hang around any longer than he had to.

  'I shall be going away for a few days,' said Mr Green.

  The children's first instinct was to squeal with joy. It was always nice when their father was out of the house. But it was extra, especially nice if they knew, for sure, he would not be coming back for days and days.

  'I trust you will be all right with the children,' continued Mr Green.

  'Yes,' agreed Nanny Piggins.

  There was an awkward pause.

  'I suppose you'll need the contact details of where I'm staying,' said Mr Green glumly.

  'No, that's all right. If something terrible happens we can wait and tell you all about it when you get back,' said Nanny Piggins.

  Mr Green much preferred it this way. He was very pleased that the nanny suggested it. Unfortunately for Mr Green, in looking forward to five days without any contact with his three children, he had a temporary brain spasm and said the following: 'Then I will leave the key to the car for you. In case you need to drive somewhere. You know, rushing the children to the hospital in the middle of the night, that sort of thing.' With that, he took his car key off his keyring and laid it down on the kitchen bench.

  'Thank you,' said Nanny Piggins. 'I don't imagine I will use it. But it's good to know I can, in case of a really, really extreme emergency. Like someone's hand being accidentally chopped off.'

  'All right then,' said Mr Green. He often said meaningless things in place of making actual conversation. 'I'll be off. So, goodbye, I suppose.'

  'Goodbye,' said Nanny Piggins and the children.

  The door had barely swung back to the doorpost before Nanny Piggins leaped up from the floor and, in an act of unexpected athleticism, hurled herself at the kitchen counter, snatching up the key as quickly as humanly – or rather pigly – possible.

  'The key to the car!' said Nanny Piggins in awestruck tones. 'This is the nicest thing anyone has ever given me.'

  'He didn't actually give it to you,' Derrick pointed out. He wanted Nanny Piggins to have the key to the car as much as anyone but he still thought it was important to be accurate. 'He just lent it to you.'

  'Yes, he lent me this key. But when I take it to the key cutter and get a copy made, that one will be mine to keep!' explained Nanny Piggins and, indeed, Derrick could not argue with that.

  'Just think, with this key we could go anywhere,' said Nanny Piggins.

  'Anywhere until you get to the sea and have to swap into a boat,' reasoned Samantha.

  'I'm sure I could get a nice boat in exchange for your father's car. It's brand new and he has it washed all the time,' said Nanny Piggins.

  This frightened Samantha. 'I wasn't suggesting you swap father's car.'

  'No, of course not,' agreed Nanny Piggins. 'But it's nice to know I can if I absolutely need to. You know, to ensure world peace or something.'

  Samantha was only slightly reassured.

  'Let's go and look at it,' suggested Nanny Piggins.

  Moments later, Nanny Piggins and the children stood looking at Mr Green's car. It was a Rolls Royce and they are usually very expensive. But Mr Green had got it cheap because something had gone wrong at the paint-mixing factory. The car had been painted in exactly the same shade of yellow as cat-sick. This did not deter Nanny Piggins and the children. The car looked impressive and exotic now that they had control over it. The paintwork shone brighter, the upholstery smelled stronger and the whole thing looked bigger.