by R. A. Spratt
So Nanny Piggins was rather disappointed when she arrived and discovered that the Neighborhood Watch consisted of a room full of middle-aged and elderly concerned citizens, many of them wearing cardigans.
“Do you think they’re wearing wrestling leotards under their cardigans?” asked Nanny Piggins hopefully.
“From the look of these people, you’d have to wrestle them to get them to take their cardigans off,” said Boris.
Even the self-defense instructor was unimpressive. He was a slightly overweight man of about fifty who taught techniques that emphasized avoiding violence, not instigating it.
“But attack is the best defense!” argued Nanny Piggins.
“No, it’s not,” argued the self-defense instructor.
“Do you want to bet?” challenged Nanny Piggins. “Defend yourself against this, then!” She hurled herself at his shins. It took her just three seconds to have him pressed into the mat in a total body lock.
“Where did you learn those techniques?” asked the self-defense instructor. “You could hurt someone.”
“I know. They’re good, aren’t they?” agreed Nanny Piggins.
After they had sent the instructor home and Nanny Piggins had taught the group some really useful self-defense skills, the Neighborhood Watch held their meeting. Nanny Piggins and the children stayed, partly to be polite, and partly because there was a large tray of doughnuts on a side table to which anyone could help themselves.
“There were two more break-ins last night after our patrol finished,” said Valerie. “We really need to get up more patrols. The burglars are just working out what times we aren’t on the streets and striking then. Who can volunteer for more shifts?”
No one put their hands up.
“I need my rest,” said one woman. “My grandchildren are visiting on the weekend. It always takes me two weeks to recover.”
“And I can’t take any more time away from my roses,” said another man. “They get jealous if they think I am seeing other plants.”
“And I can’t,” said a very wrinkly old man, “because I don’t want to. And I’m too old to be doing things I don’t want to do.”
“Perhaps our new members would like to help?” said Valerie as she looked meaningfully at Nanny Piggins.
Samantha nudged her nanny, and Nanny Piggins looked up from the five jelly-filled doughnuts she was trying to fit into her mouth all at once.
“Mmmfff?” asked Nanny Piggins.
“We would really appreciate your help,” said Valerie. “All you need to do is walk the streets with a flashlight and check on everyone’s homes.”
Nanny Piggins swallowed the doughnuts and spoke with as much dignity as a pig covered in jelly and doughnut crumbs can muster. “You’re asking me to go around the neighborhood at night looking into people’s homes with a flashlight?”
“Yes,” said Valerie.
“Of course I’ll do it!” said Nanny Piggins. “I love spying on people and violating their privacy. When do we start?”
“Tomorrow night,” said Valerie.
It took some time for the children and Boris to persuade Nanny Piggins that her all-black outfit and camouflage paint were not necessary for performing a Neighborhood Watch patrol.
“The idea is that the burglars do see you and keep away,” said Derrick.
“But if they see me, I’ll lose the element of surprise when I attack,” explained Nanny Piggins.
“You know you promised the Police Sergeant you would stop attacking people, regardless of the crimes against fashion you think they are committing,” said Boris.
“I only said that so he would take off the handcuffs,” mumbled Nanny Piggins. “All right, I’ll change.”
When Nanny Piggins emerged from her bedroom a few moments later, she was wearing her hot-pink wrestling leotard again. The children did not know what to say.
“There’s nothing wrong with this outfit, is there?” challenged Nanny Piggins.
“Well, the burglars will certainly be able to see you coming,” agreed Derrick.
“And when they do, they’ll definitely stay away,” added Michael.
“But you’re not planning to do any actual wrestling tonight, are you?” asked Samantha. If her nanny was going to attack criminals, she would need to take along extra supplies of recuperative chocolate.
“No, I have no plans. But it is best to be prepared,” said Nanny Piggins airily as she picked up her official Neighborhood Watch flashlight and set out with Boris and the children into the streets of Dulsford.
It turned out that Neighborhood Watch patrolling was nowhere near as glamorous as Nanny Piggins had hoped. In the first five minutes of their patrol, they encountered no jewel thieves, kidnappers, or pirates. And Nanny Piggins did not even have much fun spying on her neighbors. Word had gotten out that she had joined the Neighborhood Watch, so everyone in the local area had been sure to draw their curtains, lock their doors, and make certain all the roof tiles were securely attached to their roofs.
They did have some fun going through Mrs. McGill’s rubbish bins and counting all the empty ice-cream containers. And Nanny Piggins had enjoyed catching Mr. Mahmood’s cat, then kicking in his back door to return it to him. But on the whole, walking the streets in the middle of the night was a little dull. When Nanny Piggins had agreed to become involved in crime prevention, she had assumed there would be some crime to prevent. Fortunately, however, she did not have to wait much longer before a serious infringement came to her attention.
They were walking along a street when they began to hear a loud throbbing noise.
“What on earth is that noise?” asked Nanny Piggins.
“It’s some sort of dreadful pulsing sound,” said Boris.
“Perhaps an evil scientist is testing some kind of doomsday device somewhere in the neighborhood,” suggested Nanny Piggins hopefully.
“No, I think it’s just someone having a party. It’s music,” said Derrick.
“Music?!” exclaimed Nanny Piggins.
“Surely not!” exclaimed Boris.
“Music has melody and rhythm,” said Nanny Piggins.
“And it sounds nice,” added Boris.
“But that is just a dreadful droning noise,” said Nanny Piggins.
“It’s like a headache coming from the outside of your head,” agreed Boris.
“A lot of people like music that sounds like that,” explained Samantha.
“Really?” said a bewildered Nanny Piggins. “Well then, we’ll just have to put a stop to that! Come along.” Nanny Piggins marched purposefully in the direction of the party noise.
“Should we stop her?” asked Samantha.
“Do you think you could?” asked Michael.
So they all hurried after Nanny Piggins, not wanting to miss out on the scene that was sure to follow.
Nanny Piggins knocked loudly on the front door of the house emitting the “music” and then took a few steps back, ready to do a flying sidekick to smash her way in, when the door swung open.
“Hello,” said the teenager who answered the door.
“I am Nanny Piggins of the Neighborhood Watch,” said Nanny Piggins boldly (not in the least self-conscious that she was wearing a hot-pink wrestling leotard).
“Oh, sorry. Do you want us to turn down the music?” asked the youth.
“I do not!” said Nanny Piggins. “This is a party, isn’t it?”
“Um… yes,” admitted the teenager.
“Then it would be wrong to have quiet music,” said Nanny Piggins. “No, on behalf of the Neighborhood Watch and music lovers everywhere, I am ordering you to play better music.”
“But this song is number three on the dance charts,” protested the teenager.
“Pish!” said Nanny Piggins. “Out of my way. I can see I shall have to deal with this personally.” Nanny Piggins pushed past the teenager, entered the house, found the stereo, and removed the offending MP3 player. “Boris, find me some real music.”
“This is more serious than I realized,” said Nanny Piggins. “Derrick, fetch me the telephone.” Nanny Piggins turned to address the crowd of partygoers. “Don’t panic, people, we’ll soon have this sorted out.”
Within fifteen minutes, an Argentinean milonga band who owed Nanny Piggins a favor (she had helped them escape Argentina during the dictatorship by firing them into Bolivia with her cannon) had arrived and started playing tango music. Nanny Piggins then proceeded to teach all two hundred of the young partygoers how to really dance.
It ended up being the best party any of them had ever been to. Even the most sullen of the young people started to brighten up when they listened to actual good music, played well, by real musicians instead of a computer. They all danced until dawn, then ate the cupcakes Nanny Piggins baked them for breakfast, before the party broke up and everyone headed home (to get dressed for school).
So Nanny Piggins was tangoing down the street with Derrick while Boris carried Samantha and a very sleepy Michael when they turned the corner and spotted Valerie from the Neighborhood Watch standing outside their house, waiting for them.
“Good morning,” called Nanny Piggins. “We had a wonderful patrol last night. I didn’t have to wrestle with anybody. Which just goes to show that wearing a hot-pink wrestling leotard can be preventive. The rest of the Neighborhood Watch should consider adopting them as their uniform.”
But Valerie did not appear to be impressed. “While you were out on patrol last night, there were seven break-ins.”
“But we didn’t see anything,” said Nanny Piggins.
“Were you out on the street looking for crime?” asked Valerie.
“Well, no, we went into a home to prevent crime against music,” admitted Nanny Piggins.
“You neglected your duties,” accused Valerie. “You let the neighborhood down.”
“But they were playing really dreadful music,” explained Nanny Piggins. “Surely that is a greater crime than someone stealing a few material goods?”
“They stole Mrs. Cuthbert’s massaging footbath,” said Valerie.
“No,” gasped Nanny Piggins, Boris, and the still-conscious children (Michael was fast asleep).
“These thieves are heartless,” said Nanny Piggins.
“I am officially throwing you out of the Neighborhood Watch,” announced Valerie. “Hand in your flashlight.” Valerie held out her hand expectantly.
“But—” protested Nanny Piggins.
“No buts,” said Valerie.
“I left my flashlight at the party,” said Nanny Piggins.
“Typical,” said Valerie. She turned on her heel and stalked away.
The children and Boris held their breath waiting for Nanny Piggins’s response. It was not as explosive as they were expecting. But that only made it more frightening.
“Tonight I shall get revenge,” said Nanny Piggins. “Revenge on the burglars for daring to break into houses on the night of my patrol. And revenge against the Neighborhood Watch for daring to throw me out of their organization, which, I might add, I would never have even joined in the first place if I had not been plied with so many free jelly-filled doughnuts!”
That night Nanny Piggins again donned her all-black clothes and camouflage paint. She then paid a visit to Mrs. Simpson, the elderly widow next door, and borrowed the horn from her gramophone.
“What are you going to use that for?” asked Derrick.
“You know how, in the olden days, deaf people used to use an ear horn to aid their hearing?” asked Nanny Piggins. “Well, I am going to use this as a nose horn so I can amplify my already extraordinary sense of smell to track down these naughty burglars.”
“You’re going to sniff the burglars out?” asked Michael.
“Precisely,” said Nanny Piggins. “Come along; there’s no time to lose.”
So Nanny Piggins, Boris, and the children again took to the streets, this time following Nanny Piggins as she sniffed through the gramophone horn.
“Can you smell anything?” asked Boris.
“There is an odor of mischief coming from that direction,” said Nanny Piggins, pointing toward the end of the street. She closed her eyes and continued sniffing, and the others followed her. They followed Nanny Piggins to the top of the street, around the corner, across the park, down an alley, over a footbridge, and onto another street.
“Stop!” said Nanny Piggins.
“What is it?” asked Derrick.
“Can’t you smell it?” asked Nanny Piggins. “There is someone up on that roof at the end of the block, trying to climb down through the chimney.”
“Santa?” asked Boris hopefully.
“No,” said Nanny Piggins, sniffing again. “A burglar.”
As the children squinted into the darkness, they could just make out the even darker shape of someone standing on a roof.
“Derrick, use that call box to telephone the police. Tell them I am about to make a citizen’s arrest,” said Nanny Piggins as she strode toward the house.
“But how?” asked Michael.
“You will be careful, won’t you?” worried Samantha.
“Pish,” said Nanny Piggins as she started to climb a nearby tree. “It’s that burglar who is going to wish he was more careful.”
“Are you going to drop on him when he walks past?” asked Michael. He enjoyed it when his nanny ambushed people. Particularly when it was the milkman. She was always attacking him whenever he left skim milk by mistake.
“No, I’ve got a better idea,” said Nanny Piggins. “Boris, grab this branch I’m sitting on and pull it down to the ground.”
“All right,” said Boris. Being ten feet tall and weighing over one thousand pounds meant that pulling back a large tree branch was easy for him.
“Now, let go!” ordered Nanny Piggins.
“Are you sure?” asked Boris.
“Just do it!” said Nanny Piggins.
“Okay,” said Boris, letting go of the branch so that it whipped back up and hurled Nanny Piggins high in the air.
“Wow!” exclaimed Michael.
“What have I done?!” exclaimed Boris.
“Hand me some chocolate before I faint!” exclaimed Samantha.
Nanny Piggins shot up into the night sky, over the gable of the roof, and came down with a crash right on top of the burglar. They immediately started wrestling. Fortunately Nanny Piggins had her hot-pink wrestling leotard on under her black clothing, because the burglar was surprisingly good. Someone had obviously taught him some first-rate techniques. But Nanny Piggins won easily when they both fell off the roof into a hydrangea bush and Nanny Piggins used her superior aerial ability to ensure that she landed on top.
“You’re under citizen’s arrest!” said Nanny Piggins.
“Urh,” moaned the burglar.
“Hurrah!” said Boris and the children as they rushed forward to check that Nanny Piggins was all right.
“How dare you steal from a nice person’s home,” chided Nanny Piggins. “But, more importantly, how dare you humiliate me in front of the Neighborhood Watch by stealing on the night of my patrol.” And with that, she pulled the ski mask off the burglar’s face and then recoiled in shock.
“Valerie Darvas?!” exclaimed Nanny Piggins. For beneath the ski mask was, indeed, the captain of the Neighborhood Watch.
“You silly pig,” ranted Valerie. “I’ve been getting away with robbing the houses in this neighborhood for years using the Neighborhood Watch as my cover. And now you’ve ruined everything. I only invited you to join because I thought a pig would be the perfect patsy for my schemes.”
In the distance, they could hear the sound of a siren as the police approached.
“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson,”
said Boris. “Never ever cross a flying pig.”
The police soon dragged Valerie away. The Police Sergeant was so grateful to Nanny Piggins for solving Valerie’s one-woman crime wave (681 burglaries over a 23-year period) that he gave Nanny Piggins permission to make as many citizen’s arrests for crimes against fashion as she liked for a whole week. (Nanny Piggins planned to go down to the school first thing on Monday and round up all the teachers.)
It turned out that the free flashlight given out by the Neighborhood Watch to all new members actually contained a secret satellite-tracking device, which was how Valerie knew exactly where each Neighborhood Watch patrol member was and where she could strike. If she had not been evil, Nanny Piggins would have almost admired her.
“Have you ever considered joining the police force and being trained to make arrests properly?” asked the Police Sergeant.
“Oh no,” said Nanny Piggins. “It is much more fun to be an amateur who dabbles. If I was arresting criminal masterminds every night, it would get tedious eventually.”
“And it wouldn’t be fair to the criminals,” added Boris. “They’d be in jail all the time.”
And so Nanny Piggins, Boris, and the children celebrated by playing another game of Spotlight in the backyard. They could not use their Neighborhood Watch flashlight because it was now in police custody as evidence. But they did insist that Nanny Piggins wear her hot-pink leotard to give the rest of them a sporting chance of tagging her.
CHAPTER THREE
Nanny Piggins’s B & B
oooh. Aaaaahhh. Hoorraaayyy!!!” cheered the bus passengers as Nanny Piggins demonstrated the difference between a triple somersault and a double cutaway with a twist.
Derrick, Samantha, Michael, and Boris clapped and cheered too. This was the wonderful thing about riding public transportation with Nanny Piggins. You only had to say something in passing like, “So what are the different tricks you can do on a trapeze?” and before you knew it she had borrowed two silk ties from a pair of businessmen and a sturdy umbrella from a retired librarian, and rigged up a swinging trapeze from the handrail along the roof of the bus.
