Nanny Piggins and the Runaway Lion (14 page)

As the curtain closed and the audience burst into applause, Nanny Piggins and the children climbed up on their seats to clap and whistle the loudest. Boris had to come back out and bow seventeen times before the theatre management got tired of it and started flashing the lights on and off to make everybody go home.

'Come along,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Let's go backstage and tell Boris how wonderful he was.'

Backstage it was hard to get to Boris' dressing room because so many people had crowded around to congratulate him. There were ballet dancers and orchestra players and rich people with nothing better to do everywhere and they were all babbling in Russian. Eventually Nanny Piggins made her way to the front by saying 'izvi`nite' (Russian for 'excuse me'), and when that did not work, by stomping on a few feet.

They found Boris reclining in his dressing room, wearing a purple silk robe and sipping honey tea while a gaggle of adoring ballet critics, theatre management and other important people gathered round him.

'Boris, you were magnificent,' praised Nanny Piggins.

'I never knew
Swan Lake
was so awesome,' added Derrick.

'It was even better than that ballet you did to show Headmaster Pimplestock what you thought of his curriculum,' added Michael.

Samantha did not say anything. She just hugged Boris' leg with pride.

'Thank you, darlings, it did go well, didn't it?' said Boris.

'Let's go home and create a dessert to name after you,' suggested Nanny Piggins. 'I'm sure we can come up with something better than the pavlova they named after that hack what's-her-name.'

'I wish I could. But Mikhail has asked me to join the company for a pot of honey back at their hotel,' said Boris, nodding towards the dancer who had played Siegfried. 'I'd invite you along but it would be boring for you listening to a bunch of old dancers reminisce.'

Mikhail and Svetlana (who was sitting there with her leg propped up on a bag of ice) laughed.

'Oh,' said Nanny Piggins.

'Don't wait up for me,' said Boris as he turned back and started talking to Mikhail and Svetlana in Russian.

Nanny Piggins led the children away.

'Is Boris all right?' asked Samantha. 'He seems to be acting peculiarly.'

'Performers are often a little strange after a show,' explained Nanny Piggins. 'It's because the fear and the adrenalin haven't worn off yet. Don't worry, I'm sure he'll be back to normal tomorrow.'

'I hope so,' said Michael. 'Boris the ballet star doesn't seem as nice as Boris the bear who lives in the shed.'

The next morning Nanny Piggins and the children were, again, crouched on the kitchen floor, staring in through the oven door as they watched their second attempt at chocolate soufflé. There was no whispering this time – just to be sure. If they wanted to communicate with each other they wrote notes, very quietly, on a notepad.

'It smells delicious,' wrote Samantha.

'That is a good sign,' Nanny Piggins wrote back. 'Smell is a sure indicator of cooking. This is the crucial stage – everyone try to breathe quietly.'

The children took small shallow breaths as instructed, and the soufflé gradually started to lift . . . when – BANG! – the back door slammed open.

'Good morning,' called Boris as he did a grand jeté (flying leap) into the room. The moment he landed the soufflé sank, along with the culinary hopes of Nanny Piggins and the children.

They turned to look at Boris. He was still wearing his tail coat, although the white bow tie hung loose, and he was carrying four dozen red roses in one arm with a huge bucket of half-eaten honey in the other.

'Did you have a good night?' asked Nanny Piggins politely.

'Oh, Sarah, it was marvellous,' gushed Boris. 'And the most wonderful thing has happened. They have offered me my old job back, as the male lead in their new ballet. They did offer me principal ballerina because I was so much better than Svetlana at playing Odette. But I think I would prefer to play the male roles. I don't want to be typecast.'

'But you aren't going to take the job, are you?' asked Michael.

'Why wouldn't I?' replied Boris.

'Because the Russian Ballet Company is based in Russia. It's going to take forever for you to travel back and forth to Russia every day,' said Michael.

The others looked at Michael. It was times like this that they remembered that he was the youngest and most naive.

Boris just laughed. 'You silly billy. I will, of course, be moving back to my homeland, Mother Russia.'

Michael burst into tears and ran out of the room.

'What's wrong with him?' asked Boris.

'He's just had his feelings hurt by a very stupid bear,' said Nanny Piggins sternly.

'He'll get over it,' said Boris as he got up to return to his shed. 'And you must all come and visit me in Moscow, after a year or two when I have settled in.' With that, Boris left the same way he entered – banging the back door loudly.

'What on earth has happened to Boris?' asked Samantha.

'He is suffering from a tragic medical condition,' said Nanny Piggins. 'His head has become swollen. It is a very common malady in the entertainment industry. It can strike anyone, even lovely, caring bears.'

'What can we do?' asked Derrick. 'Make another soufflé,' said Nanny Piggins. 'How will that help?' asked Samantha. 'It will give us something to eat while we wait for him to come to his senses,' explained Nanny Piggins.

The next three days were long and wearisome for Nanny Piggins and the children, because Boris' behaviour only grew more and more obnoxious. He had taken to eating caviar, laughing loudly at things that were not funny and looking at himself do ballet moves in the mirror all the time.

On the third day, when Nanny Piggins had just put another soufflé in the oven and it had just been ruined, again, this time by the phone ringing loudly at the crucial moment – it was the doorman from the ballet theatre ringing to say that Boris would not be coming home for dinner – Nanny Piggins decided she'd had enough.

'What are you going to do?' asked Derrick.

'I am going to give my brother a piece of my mind,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Come along.'

'You want us to come with you?' asked Samantha. She was used to adults preferring to yell at each other behind closed doors, while pretending that the doors were entirely soundproof.

'I will need witnesses if things turn violent,' explained Nanny Piggins. 'And bring along the ruined soufflé as evidence to show how sorely I was provoked.'

And so they went to the theatre, Nanny Piggins muttering all the way as she practised all the really cutting things she was going to say to Boris.

When they arrived at the theatre building Nanny Piggins did not hesitate. There was a stage door around the side where they could easily be let in. But Nanny Piggins preferred to kick in the main doors at the front. (If you are going to tell someone off it always helps to make a dramatic entrance first.) And so they burst into the theatre foyer.

But it was not the people inside who were shocked and surprised. The shocked and surprised ones were Nanny Piggins and the children, for they had just burst in on Svetlana and Mikhail as they danced about the room (to loud music, which is why they had not noticed Nanny Piggins' dramatic entrance). They saw Mikhail pick Svetlana up and throw her in the air, where she spun around three times before landing on what was supposed to be her injured foot.

Nanny Piggins went over to the stereo and switched it off. Mikhail and Svetlana's heads whipped round.

'Either your broken ankle has healed quicker than any broken ankle in the history of broken ankles, or there is something fishy going on here,' said Nanny Piggins.

Svetlana sat down quickly and clutched her foot. 'The pain, it comes and goes.'

'You might be a world famous ballerina but you are not a very good actress,' said Nanny Piggins. 'You are clutching the wrong foot.'

Svetlana hastily clutched both feet.

'We don't have to explain ourselves to a common pig,' said Mikhail, puffing out his chest.

'Really?' said Nanny Piggins, her eyes narrowing.

'You're going to regret saying that,' warned Derrick.

'Michael, run and fetch Boris,' said Nanny Piggins.

Michael rushed off .

'I'm leaving,' said Svetlana.

Nanny Piggins blocked her path. 'Don't for one moment think that the fact that I am wearing a vintage designer outfit (which looks really lovely) will stop me from wrestling you to the ground and holding you in a body lock,' said Nanny Piggins.

Svetlana looked at Nanny Piggins. Nanny Piggins glowered back. And Svetlana decided today was not the day she would try pig wrestling.

Just then Michael re-entered, dragging Boris.

'This had better be good,' said Boris. 'The choreographer gets cross if I miss practice.'

'Boris, I have reason to believe you have been hoodwinked,' said Nanny Piggins. 'Svetlana's ankle is not really broken!'

'But that's good news, isn't it?' said Boris.

'What?' said Nanny Piggins.

'If someone thought their ankle was broken and then it turned out it wasn't, you've got to be happy about that,' said Boris.

'But the question is – why was she pretending it was broken?' asked Nanny Piggins.

'You've been reading too many historical romance novels again, haven't you?' said Boris as he patronisingly patted his sister on the head.

Nanny Piggins began to shake with rage. For the first time since she had adopted him, Nanny Piggins was actually considering biting her own brother on the leg.

'Why would anyone want to pretend to have a broken ankle?' continued Boris.

Just then a caretaker entered the lobby carrying an armful of rolled-up bill posters. 'Is it all right if I start putting up the new posters?' he asked.

'Niet!' screamed Mikhail and Svetlana (which is Russian for 'No!'). Mikhail actually lunged forward to try to grab the posters away, but Nanny Piggins was too quick for him. When it comes to lunging, no-one lunges like a flying pig. She threw herself at the caretaker and his posters with the speed and precision of an Exocet missile.

'Why don't you want us to see this?' asked Nanny Piggins as she unfurled the rolled-up posters. The children gathered round to look at it over their nanny's shoulder. The poster was an advertisement for a new show the Russian Ballet Company would perform when they returned to Russia. It was called
The Ballet of Baris the Dancing Buffoon
. The poster showed a large bear, dressed as a clown and lumbering about as a group of beautiful skinny people laughed at him.

Boris gasped. 'Niet!' he exclaimed.

'Da,' said Nanny Piggins (which is Russian for 'Yes').

'You told me if I came back to Russia with you I would get to dance Romeo in
Romeo and Juliet
,' said Boris.

Mikhail snorted (which is Russian for contemptuous laughter). 'As if we would let a bear play such a great and important role. No, we have to stage this new ballet to get government funding. But none of us wanted to play the buffoon.'

'Then we think of Boris the bear,' said Svetlana. 'For you, this role is perfect.'