Nanny McPhee Returns

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Authors: Emma Thompson
stairs anxiously. All was silent. Except – wait, no, she’d heard a sort of a thud. Well, more like the echo of a thud, more like a little tremor through the house. Then she saw two little golden sparks pattering down the stairs. She rubbed her eyes. When she opened them, the sparks were gone. How odd, she thought. That bath’s relaxed me so much I’m seeing things. Perhaps this new nanny was just what they all needed. She was a bit – well – ugly, to be sure, but her results were nothing short of –
    ‘Ahem.’
    Mrs Green jumped and found Nanny McPhee in front of her holding a lantern.
    ‘Lesson Two – to share nicely – is complete,’ she said.
    ‘What? I mean, how? I mean – that’s a miracle – how on earth – how did you do it, Nanny McPhee?’ said Mrs Green.
    ‘I’m afraid that’s classified information, Mrs Green,’ said Nanny McPhee, walking towards the kitchen door. ‘The army is very strict about such matters.’
    ‘Oh yes, yes, of course,’ said Mrs Green, feeling slightly ashamed to have asked at all. ‘The thing is,’ she went on, very fast so that Nanny McPhee wouldn’t leave, ‘we can’t afford to pay you and we haven’t any spare beds but –’
    ‘Please do not trouble yourself, Mrs Green,’ said Nanny McPhee. ‘The army remunerates me and I have arranged my own accommodation. Goodnight, Mrs Green. Pleasant dreams.’
    And with that, the kitchen door quietly opened and Nanny McPhee slid silently out. Mrs Green put her fist into her mouth and bit it. No, she was awake. She hadn’t just had an amazing dream about an ugly, free nanny or the fact that she’d had time to wash her ears in the bath. Sighing with contentment, she lifted her tea and took a lovely, long gulp.
    Back in the bedroom – and this will come as no surprise – the children were in bed with their teeth brushed. Megsie and Celia were head-to-toe, as were Norman and Cyril. They were all absolutely furious and determined not to sleep a wink until such time as they could either escape or complain to their mother about the Big Warty Person who was making them do things they didn’t want to do. They stared at each other hatefully. Vincent was also being unpleasant, jumping up and down upon his truckle-bed singing, ‘I don’t have to sha-are, I don’t have to sha-are!’
    Then something very odd happened. The bedroom door opened and the Green family’s cow, Geraldine, walked calmly in and climbed into bed with Megsie and Celia.
    The children were so astonished they couldn’t speak, but then Megsie got a hoof in her ear and she slapped Geraldine crossly. Geraldine mooed at her just as crossly and flicked her tail into Celia’s face.
    ‘Ugh! Get OUT!’ said Celia, but something deep within her was already saying, ‘This cow’s going nowhere. You might as well try to get some sleep.’

    As the girls tried to arrange themselves around Geraldine’s large and ungainly frame, in walked the goat, Alphonse. He was called Alphonse because it sounded French and the Greens knew that the French had invented perfume and Alphonse had a very strong smell. He, of course, got into bed with Norman and Cyril. The stench was indescribable. The boys kicked and squirmed and tried to push Alphonse out and tried to get out of the bed themselves, but it was no use. They were all stuck with each other. Vincent, who had been watching it all with a mixture of delight and terror, quickly decided to get in and switch off his light. But there, on his pillow, lay a little trunk, which was attached to a very large lump underneath his quilted blanket. Vincent was left with about three centimetres of bed to sleep in. He curled himself around the little elephant, who was quite warm and already whiffling gently, and fell instantly into a deep sleep.

    The house started to fall silent. Even the warring children, anger in their hearts, bruises on their legs and twisted into impossible shapes around their peculiar bedfellows, slept

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