by R. A. Spratt
Suddenly there was a knock at the door.
“It’s the lion!” shrieked Samantha as she flung herself facedown on the sofa and hid her head under a pillow. She was so afraid of being savaged to death by an African wildcat she was not thinking straight, or she would have realized there was no way a pillow could protect her.
“A lion wouldn’t knock on the door, silly,” said Michael.
“I don’t see why not,” said Nanny Piggins. “How else do they let people know when they want to be let in?”
“Why don’t we look out the window?” suggested Derrick. “That way no one has to open the door and risk getting eaten.”
“Good thinking,” agreed Nanny Piggins.
So Derrick peeked out through the lace curtains.
“If it is a lion,” added Nanny Piggins, “she would be most welcome to have the steak I bought for Mr. Green’s dinner.”
“It’s not. It’s a man dressed in some sort of military uniform,” said Derrick.
Now it was Nanny Piggins’s turn to leap up in panic. “The military! How did they find out I was here?!” she exclaimed.
“What have you done to upset the military?” asked Samantha. She was starting to hyperventilate now. It was hard to worry about so many things at once.
“I can’t tell you; it’s classified,” said Nanny Piggins furtively, as she ran about the room stuffing things into her handbag. “But suffice it to say, I may have accidentally given away military secrets to a foreign government in exchange for a particularly delicious slice of tea cake.”
Bang, bang, bang—the man beat on the door. “Sarah Piggins, I know you are in there. You will answer the door!” he ordered in a strange foreign accent.
“Well, good-bye, children, it’s been a pleasure being your nanny. I’ll miss you terribly, but I will write as soon as I get to South America,” said Nanny Piggins as she rushed toward the back door.
“Hang on!” said Boris, grabbing his sister by the collar. “Don’t you recognize that voice?”
“What?” said Nanny Piggins, her feet dangling in the air.
“I will count to three, then this door shall be opened,” said the man on the doorstep. “One… two…”
“Of course! I’d recognize that Danish accent anywhere! It’s not the military!” exclaimed Nanny Piggins. “It’s the Lion Tamer from the circus!”
Boris put his sister down, and she rushed over to throw open the front door. “Jasper, darling! How are you?” said Nanny Piggins.
The Lion Tamer bowed politely, clicking his heels together, then bent low to kiss the back of Nanny Piggins’s trotter.
“Piggins, we meet again,” said the Lion Tamer.
“Why is he wearing jodhpurs, knee-high leather boots, and a military jacket?” Samantha whispered to Boris, thinking that the Lion Tamer looked even more frightening than her math teacher.
“He just likes to dress that way,” said Boris. “You get all sorts in the circus. Just because the bearded lady looks the strangest, doesn’t mean she is the strangest, if you know what I mean.”
The children did not know what he meant. But they nodded anyway, hoping they would be able to figure it out for themselves later on.
“So how are things at the circus?” asked Nanny Piggins as she led the Lion Tamer into the living room.
“The Ringmaster, he is an idiot,” said the Lion Tamer.
“Of course, that goes without saying,” agreed Nanny Piggins.
“And I have some small trouble with one of my girls,” said the Lion Tamer.
“Ah yes, we just saw on the news,” said Nanny Piggins.
“That was one of the lions from the circus?!” asked Samantha, slightly relieved. If it was a circus lion, perhaps it would not bite her in two; it would just leap through a flaming hoop instead.
“Ja,” said the Lion Tamer (because that is how Danish people say yes). “It was Ethel. She has run away from home.”
“Ethel!” exclaimed Nanny Piggins. “Surely you mean Cassandra or Amy? They’re the naughty ones. Ethel was always so easygoing.”
“She was the one who got me into yoga,” agreed Boris. “She’s really in touch with both her yin and her yang.”
“It is Ethel,” snapped the Lion Tamer. “I know this for a fact because she left a very rude letter.”
“What did it say?” asked Nanny Piggins. She always enjoyed rude letters. She particularly liked writing them herself. But reading ones written to other people was fun too.
“I burned it,” said the Lion Tamer.
“Did you memorize it first?” asked Nanny Piggins hopefully.
“The letter is gone. And so is Ethel,” said the Lion Tamer. He then began to do the most startling thing. He started to shudder violently and make a barking noise like a seal. It was several moments before the others realized what he was doing. The Lion Tamer was crying. (It is a sad fact that a lot of men are very bad at crying. Which is why they really should practice more. That way they will not look silly when they try it.)
“She says she is running away to a petting zoo in Tanzania,” sobbed the Lion Tamer.
“Who would put a lion in a petting zoo?” Michael whispered to Boris.
“Someone who doesn’t like children,” suggested Boris.
“There, there.” Nanny Piggins comforted the Lion Tamer. “I’m sure she won’t really. After all, Ethel doesn’t speak Swahili. And I know for a fact she can’t stand missing an episode of The Young and the Irritable. So there’s no way she’d go to Central East Africa without asking you to record it for her.”
“I hope you’re right,” sniffed the Lion Tamer. “I miss my little kitty cat.” He burst into tears again.
“Why don’t you re-catch Ethel and tell her how you feel?” asked Nanny Piggins.
“It is embarrassing,” said the Lion Tamer, blowing his nose and trying to regather some of his dignity. “I cannot let her see me like this. A Lion Tamer must maintain strict discipline at all times.”
“Come now, that’s no excuse,” said Nanny Piggins.
“Also, I tried already,” admitted the Lion Tamer, “but Ethel will not come when I call.”
Nanny Piggins and Boris gasped.
“But she’s a lion and you are the Lion Tamer. It’s her job to obey you,” said Boris.
“I know. That is what I said, but she won’t listen to me,” said the Lion Tamer. “That is why I came to you. When you were at the circus, Ethel was a particular friend of yours. So please, I’m begging you to help me. Help me bring my Ethel home.”
“Of course,” said Nanny Piggins. “You lie down quietly and have a pack of chocolate cookies. Come along, children, fetch your father’s car keys. We’ve got a lion to catch.”
“Shouldn’t we get some sort of protective gear first? Perhaps a motorcycle helmet or a Kevlar vest?” asked Samantha.
“Oh, no, there’s no point bothering with that,” laughed Boris. “A lion would just rip it right off. No, the only hope you have with a lion is to be polite.”
“And hope they’ve just eaten a large meal,” added Nanny Piggins.
And so Nanny Piggins, Boris, and the children climbed into Mr. Green’s vomit-yellow Rolls-Royce and set out in search of Ethel the lion.
“Where do we look first?” asked Derrick.
“Well, we know not to look for her in the bookstore,” said Nanny Piggins, “because she was there this morning.”
“But what if she didn’t like the book she bought and wanted to return it?” suggested Boris.
“Good point,” conceded Nanny Piggins.
So they drove to the bookstore. When they got there, they found the owner drinking a cup of tea, but his hand was shaking so badly, he was getting more on the counter than in his mouth. In between the stuttering and the weeping, he was able to tell them that a terrifyingly ferocious lion matching Ethel’s description had bought an English-to-Swahili dictionary earlier that morning. (And she must have been happy with it because she had not brought it ba
ck.)
“But Ethel isn’t terrifying or ferocious,” protested Boris.
“There must be another lion on the loose!” exclaimed Nanny Piggins.
“Or perhaps it was Ethel, and she seemed terrifying to him,” suggested Michael as he patted the shopkeeper’s shoulder supportively.
“It is normal for people to be frightened of lions,” added Derrick as he used a copy of Great Expectations to mop up the spilt tea.
“And she might be in a ferocious mood if she was angry enough to run away from the circus,” worried Samantha.
“I suppose,” conceded Nanny Piggins, “but I don’t know why you’d be afraid of lions when there are much more frightening beasts wandering loose—like dieticians!”
Boris shuddered. “Imagine bumping into a dietician when you weren’t expecting it.”
“Shhh,” cautioned Nanny Piggins. “We’d better stop talking about it or we’ll give the children nightmares.”
Nanny Piggins, Boris, and the children got back in the Rolls-Royce and continued searching. “Where to next?” asked Michael.
“The butcher shop, I think,” said Nanny Piggins.
“In case Ethel’s hungry?” asked Samantha.
“No, in case she’s looking for a job,” explained Nanny Piggins. “Who’s better at tearing up raw meat than a lion?”
When they got to the butcher shop, they found the butcher curled up in the corner, rocking back and forth.
“He looks very frightened,” said Derrick.
“Perhaps he’s just read an article about the rise of vegetarianism,” suggested Nanny Piggins.
“Or perhaps he’s just seen Ethel,” suggested Michael more realistically.
“He’s right!” called Boris. “Ethel has been here! Look, she left her résumé on the counter.”
Nanny Piggins read it. “Let’s see: a gap year working as an au pair in France, two years working as a stockbroker on Wall Street, and eight and a half years being tamed at the circus. That’s Ethel all right!”
“Sh-sh-she just c-came in here,” stuttered the butcher. (He had been coaxed out of his catatonic state by Samantha offering him a bite of her chocolate bar.) “She a-a-asked about a job, l-l-left a résumé, and then bought half a side of b-b-beef, because she said she was p-p-peckish.”
“How did she pay for it?” asked Michael.
“C-c-cash,” jittered the butcher.
“But how can a lion have money?” asked Derrick.
“She gets a wage at the circus,” said Nanny Piggins.
“I thought the Ringmaster didn’t like paying people,” said Samantha.
“He always pays the lions. He might be an idiot, but he’s not entirely stupid,” explained Nanny Piggins. “Plus Ethel has always been very good at following the stock market. She has quite the investment portfolio.”
“How can a lion have an investment portfolio? Apart from being a lion, she lives in a traveling circus,” said Samantha.
“Just because you’re on the road doesn’t mean you can’t read the financial papers,” said Nanny Piggins.
“But you’re not rich,” said Derrick.
“True,” agreed Nanny Piggins. “My chocolate habit is a tremendous financial burden. But in life, some things are worth the sacrifice.”
The children nodded. This was a statement whose wisdom they could fully understand.
“So where should we look for Ethel next?” asked Boris.
“I’m not sure,” said Nanny Piggins. “Perhaps we should just walk around a bit. Maybe we’ll bump into her.”
The thought of “bumping into” a lion only made Samantha want to barricade herself in the butcher’s cold-storage room. But after the others pried her fingers off the counter one at a time and promised Samantha that she could climb up on Boris’s head at the first glimpse of a giant cat, the five of them were eventually able to set out into the shopping precinct on their lion hunt.
They met with almost immediate success when they heard screaming up ahead.
“What could that be?” asked Boris.
“Perhaps a crowd of people are horrified by the produce prices,” guessed Nanny Piggins. This was an issue she felt strongly about. She was always astounded the produce department had the audacity to charge anything for brussels sprouts.
“Or perhaps they’re frightened because they saw a lion?” suggested Derrick.
“Ah yes, of course. I keep forgetting the silly, irrational reactions you humans have to large meat-eating creatures,” said Nanny Piggins.
“I wish I could,” said Boris, dabbing a tear from the corner of his eye. It still hurt his feelings every time an old lady screamed and ran away when he offered to help her across the road. Perhaps in the future, he would try walking with them across the road, instead of throwing them. It was being picked up and swung about his head that seemed to alarm them.
Nanny Piggins gave her brother’s hand a quick, comforting squeeze, and then they set off following the sound of screaming, which soon led them to the local cinema. Nanny Piggins looked up at the marquee to see what was playing.
“Ahh, Out of Africa. No wonder she came here,” said Nanny Piggins. “Her uncle has a cameo in this film. Sadly, he never got much more movie work because he was forever typecast as a lion. Anyway, let’s go in.”
Nanny Piggins, Boris, and the children wandered through the now-deserted lobby. They would have paid for tickets, but they could not, because the ticket collector was hiding under the popcorn stand, refusing to come out.
It was hard to see anything in the darkened cinema. Samantha clutched Boris’s hand tightly, wishing she was ten feet tall and over one thousand pounds too so she would not have to be so scared. At first it looked like there was no one in the audience at all. But then they heard the distinctive sound of popcorn being munched. They turned and peered into the darkness. At the very back of the theater, they could just make out the shadowy shape of a lion.
“Hello?” called Nanny Piggins.
“Shhhh,” growled Ethel. “I’m trying to watch the movie.”
“Ethel, it’s Sarah Piggins,” called Nanny Piggins.
“Sarah?!” exclaimed Ethel. “And Boris too! How wonderful to see you. You’re just in time; the film has only just started.”
“We can’t watch a movie now,” said Nanny Piggins. “The Lion Tamer is at our house, and he wants you to come back to the circus.”
“Hah!” said Ethel (all circus performers have an excellent sense of the dramatic). “I’ll bet he does. Well, I’m not coming back. He’s a big meanie, and I’ve had enough of it. So there.” With that, Ethel stuffed another handful of popcorn in her mouth and glared at the movie screen, ignoring Nanny Piggins.
“Children, I think you and Boris had better wait outside,” said Nanny Piggins.
Samantha could not have been more grateful for this suggestion. She practically ran out the exit, screaming.
“It’s time Ethel and me had a serious lion-to-pig conversation,” said Nanny Piggins.
So Boris and the children waited outside, where they had a lovely time playing hopscotch on the sticky carpet (which all cinemas seem to have) and eating candy from the snack bar (for which the staff were too frightened to make them pay). When Nanny Piggins and Ethel finally emerged, Ethel still looked a little sulky, but Nanny Piggins held her firmly by the hand.
“Come along, children. We’re going home,” said Nanny Piggins.
“Is Ethel going back to the circus?” asked Derrick.
“We’ll see,” said Nanny Piggins cryptically.
Amazingly enough, somewhere on the return journey, Samantha completely overcame her fear of being eaten by a lion. Just as people with a fear of flying can conquer their phobia by learning to be a pilot, it turns out you can overcome a fear of lions simply by being squished in the backseat of a Rolls-Royce between a huge bear and a fully grown lioness.
The Lion Tamer was overwhelmed as soon as he saw Ethel. He did not bark like a seal, but his neck di
d go pink and his chin quivered, which, for him, was a sign of great emotion.
“Oh, Ethel, you naughty girl. I am pleased you have agreed to return,” said the Lion Tamer.
“Ethel is returning,” said Nanny Piggins, “but only if you agree to certain conditions.”
“Conditions? What are these conditions of which you speak?” asked the Lion Tamer.
“If he has to ask, I’m not telling him,” said Ethel sulkily.
“It seems Ethel is not the only one who has been naughty,” said Nanny Piggins, fixing the Lion Tamer with her most piercing glare.
“What do you mean?” blustered the Lion Tamer. He might be a brave lion tamer, but like most people, he was still afraid of Nanny Piggins.
“Ethel tells me that you have been ordering her about—telling her to jump through flaming hoops and open her mouth so you can put your head in it,” said Nanny Piggins.
“I’m a lion tamer. That is what I do,” protested the Lion Tamer.
“But without ever saying ‘please’?” asked Nanny Piggins.
The children gasped. They knew it was a terrible sin to ask for something and not say please. Nanny Piggins always made a point of saying please to the man in the corner shop before she ripped all the chocolate off his shelves, tore open their wrappings, and stuffed the whole lot in her mouth.
“I may have forgotten to say this word once or twice,” admitted the Lion Tamer.
“Hah—once or twice?! Try never!” accused Ethel.
“And what’s this I hear about a whip?” asked Nanny Piggins.
“He’s been beating Ethel with a whip?” asked Samantha, astounded that Ethel had merely run away and not eaten the Lion Tamer first.
“No, worse. He’s been cracking it near me. He knows I don’t like loud noises. It’s terrible for my nerves,” complained Ethel.
“You brute,” reproached Nanny Piggins.
“But this is what all the lion tamers do,” protested the Lion Tamer.
“That is no excuse. If all the lion tamers jumped in a lake, would you do that too?” asked Nanny Piggins.
“No,” pouted the Lion Tamer. Now it was his turn to sulk.
“I should think not,” said Nanny Piggins.
