echo through the house. The children were far too busy to notice the golden sparks that spattered from the bottom of the stick and escaped under the door. But they did all stop, just for a second, to stare at her.

‘Was that supposed to impress us?’ Cyril sneered. Nanny McPhee looked at him expressionlessly. He shrugged his shoulders and raised a fist to thump Norman.

And then the oddest thing occurred. Instead of thumping Norman, his fist, as though in the grip of an invisible puppeteer, twisted at the end of his arm and tried to thump him, missing twice before grabbing his own collar and throwing him to the floor.

Cyril, winded by the fall and the surprise, just lay there panting, with his eyes as round as golf balls. Norman sniggered and pointed. Cyril’s hand then yanked Cyril about and thwacked him hard on the head. Now Norman laughed out loud as everyone else stared in astonishment.

‘What on earth are you doing, Cyril?’ said Celia, as, very suddenly, Norman clutched his own ear and pulled himself across the room squealing with pain.

Even if Cyril had been in any position to answer her, Celia would not have noticed. She was too busy grabbing her own hair and pulling it very hard. Her eyes were screwed up so tight against the stinging that she didn’t even notice Megsie hitting her own bottom hard with the fire-tongs and yelping, ‘It’s happening to me too!’

Meanwhile, Vincent, his eyes like saucers, suddenly felt the cricket bat twitch in his hand. He stared at it apprehensively. Very suddenly it jerked itself up into the air and came down very hard on the best mahogany table, giving it a terrific dent.

g

g

‘Oh no!!’ cried Vincent, trying to drop the bat. But it seemed stuck fast to his hands and now he started to go about the room whacking and whacking and whacking whatever got in the way. Ornaments went flying, crockery smashed and Vincent, terrified, started to yell, ‘Stop, stop, stop, stop!!!’ at the top of his voice.

Hearing Vincent, the other children yelled as well. ‘Stop!’ Norman shrieked as he shoved his own head into the horn of the gramophone player, and ‘Stop!’ shouted Celia as she yanked out handfuls of her own hair, and ‘Stop!’ screamed Cyril as he rhythmically head-banged a footstool and ‘Please stop!’ howled Megsie as she smacked her cheeks in turn until they were bright pink.

Oh, it was awful. And during all this, Nanny McPhee stood quietly, calmly, just watching. I don’t know which one it was who worked out that she must have caused this peculiar and painful behaviour, but suddenly all the children were looking at her and begging her to stop them.

g

g

‘Please stop us!!’ they cried.

‘On one condition,’ said Nanny McPhee. ‘That you apologise for hurting each other and promise to stop fighting.’

Almost immediately, Norman yelled, ‘Never!’

Nanny McPhee raised her monobrow.

‘Never!’ shouted Cyril. ‘They started it!’

‘Never!’ cried Megsie, but not with much conviction. Celia didn’t shout at all – she was staring in horror at the pile of hair growing at her feet.

‘Granny’s little shepherdess!’ shouted Vincent, heartbroken as all his family’s beloved knick-knacks were smashed by the merciless cricket bat. Behind him lay a trail of china – Mrs Green’s best tea service was completely destroyed and Vincent was almost in tears. But something much worse was about to occur. The bat was pulling him towards the fireplace and the mantelpiece.

WHACK! it went and the first part of the mantelpiece started to crack. There, at the other end, was the little blue bundle of Dad’s precious letters, tied with a ribbon.

‘No! NO, no, no!!! Dad’s letters! They’re going to get burnt!’

Norman and Megsie looked. Sure enough, the letters were beginning to slide down the broken mantelpiece and would be in the flames in seconds.

Megsie panicked. ‘All right!! I apologise! I’m sorry I hurt you, Celia! I promise to stop fighting!’

Norman’s pride was very strong, but the letters from his father were too important. They were all they had and if his father were never to return – but that was too painful a thought, more painful even than the thought of apologising to the invaders. ‘I’m sorry too! I’m sorry, Cyril – I promise to stop fighting!’ he blurted out. Then all the children started shouting at once, begging and begging Nanny McPhee to stop them. Only Cyril stubbornly refused to speak.

Nanny McPhee said, very quietly, ‘All of you.’

Now everyone turned towards Cyril and started shrieking at him. The