Nanny McPhee and the Big Bang by Emma Thompson Read Free Book Online

nose with very strong glue. Then my ears, my warts, my monobrow and my wig. And she’s called an artist because she paints them into my face so that you can’t see the join. And you really can’t – it looks absolutely real even if you are close to me and peering like anything. It is important to like your artist because they get very near to your face very early in the day. I am lucky because I don’t just like Paula, I love her. I do, however, make much less of a fuss than the piglets. They are having their black spots painted on at the moment. This involves being lovingly cradled by Guillaume and gently painted by Gary. They kick up the most unbelievable racket, like a gigantic bucket of angry babies. It’s really quite upsetting for everyone. Silly creatures. They don’t know how lucky they are.
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The Story 12
    Let’s leave the children to it for a moment and get back to Phil. We left him outside the shop, still desperate to get Mrs Green to sign and very, very worried about what might happen to him if she wouldn’t.
    As he walked through the lovely little village he felt slightly comforted by the distance he had put between himself and the threat. After all, nothing truly nasty could ever happen in such a pretty place, could it? Just as he was having this thought, he passed an ivy-clad alley and heard a curious noise, a bit like a cuckoo calling, only more flirtatious.
    ‘Oo-oo!’ it went. ‘Oo-oo!’
    Phil realised that it was a woman’s voice – a young woman at that, and sounding so friendly and charming and cheeky and fun. He gave his hair a quick smooth down and looked up the alley. Almost at once he was lifted off his feet by something very strong and deposited against the wall of the alley in a breathless heap. The very strong something turned out to be a gigantic lady in a crimplene suit and high heels. She was very blonde. Next to her was a much smaller but equally blonde person in a sharp little suit and hat. They both smiled sweetly at Phil.
    ‘Hello, Mr Green,’ said the little one. Her voice was so attractive. It had a constant bubbling laugh in it as though she found everyone and everything delightful and amazing.
    ‘We haven’t met, but I’m Miss Topsey and this is my colleague, Miss Turvey.’
    Now of course we know a little about Miss Topsey and Miss Turvey (none of it good), but don’t forget that Phil didn’t. He’d never seen them before in his life. So when Miss Topsey said, in that lovely way of hers, ‘Can you guess who sent us?’ for a split second Phil actually thought that word of his utter gorgeousness had spread to the neighbouring villages and this lady had come to check him out.
    ‘Sent two lovelies like yourselves?’ he said, winking meaningfully at Miss Topsey so that she knew he meant just her and not the frighteningly strong one. ‘Father Christmas?’
    Miss Topsey laughed in a trilling soprano for a very long time – longer, Phil thought, than was absolutely necessary, given that he already knew she thought he was irresistible.
    ‘Oh no, Phil! Guess again!’
    Before Phil had time to ask himself how she knew his first name, the big scary one spoke.
    ‘Mrs Biggles.’
    Phil panicked. He tried to scrabble up the wall but Miss Turvey pulled him back down, he tried to get past her but she was immovable, and when he tried to get past Miss Topsey she tripped him up and both of them leaned over him, so close that he could see the cracks in their lipstick.
    ‘We need the farm, Phil,’ said Miss Topsey, her little teeth glinting like pearls in her mouth.
    ‘And we need it now,’ breathed Miss Turvey.
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    Phil started to pant. ‘Thing is,’ he said. ‘Thing is, is it’s not exactly all mine, see. It belongs half to me and half to my brother –’
    ‘Half a farm’s no good to us, Phil,’ said Miss Topsey, more sweetly than ever. ‘And the fact is, Mrs Big’s told us to come back with one of two things, Phil: the deeds to your farm –’
    ‘Or your