can’t work in the make-up room any more – it’s like a sauna and all the make-up comes off as it goes on. They’ve moved downstairs. Air-con units are sprouting up everywhere, like mushrooms. I visited Titans in full costume and gave Ralph my ear lobes. We are going to do a new film called Clash of Nanny McPhee and the Titans. Nanny McPhee will be Hades’s girlfriend. Ralph has a big pretend forehead, so we think they will suit each other.
We are mopping up some unfinished scenes, which is very confusing. Lots of long discussions about who is looking where and when and what they were doing when we shot the first bit and so forth. Many people scratching heads and looking thoroughly flummoxed. Even Irene, who is never flummoxed. Quite funny really. Except not.
Was walking down the corridor to the set when I heard a weird noise behind me. Like a collection of Tupperware being banged together. Turned round and it was Apollo. Any time I get the chance I go upstairs and disrobe and lie in front of my little air-con unit. Toby, our wonderful Movement Director (see Glossary), came in rather suddenly and found me naked except for my nose, boots and hat. He took it quite calmly, all things considered.
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The Story 18
Mrs Green was dashing up the lane to the farm, hoping to get there before Farmer Macreadie came to buy the piglets. She was talking to herself: ‘So. We sell the piglets. I take the money and pay for the tractor and if there’s any extra – well, Vinnie needs new wellies because his are too small and Megsie’s old ones are too big at the minute and Norman needs new – new everything, oh dear, perhaps we’ll just make a cake.’
She reached the gate and went straight into the barn to check that the piglets were fed and watered. But the sty was empty. Mrs Green said, ‘No’, and, ‘No, that’s not right.’ She looked and looked. But it was empty. She looked everywhere – and thinking that they must have all escaped into the barn, she looked inside all the nooks and crannies, inside the old watering cans and under the Scratch-O-Matic, making little noises of distress. All of a sudden Phil walked in, carrying his contract.
‘How’s my gorgeous sister-in-law?’ he said cheerily.
Mrs Green, who had got into the sty, looked up from behind the trough with a face as grey as putty.
‘There’s a hole,’ she whispered. ‘Someone’s dug a hole. They’re not here. They’ve all escaped.’
‘Oh no,’ said Phil, putting down the contract and pretending to look for the piglets. Because of course it was he who had dug the hole. It was he who had let out the piglets and who now hoped to get Mrs Green to sign his papers so that he could save his skin. You knew that.
The sound of hoofs was heard in the yard and a shout of ‘Ahoy!’ from Farmer Macreadie. Mrs Green went weak in the legs.
‘Oh no. What are we going to do? How are we going to pay for the tractor?’
Farmer Macreadie walked in and immediately saw that something was badly wrong. As Mrs Green explained, he shook his head sadly and said he’d try to help – but of course both his boys were off in the war too and he had his own fields to harvest and his own tractor to pay for. Regretfully, he started back to his horse and cart.
‘Terrible thing, war,’ said Phil. ‘Curse these flat feet! . . .’ And he tried to look frustrated about not being able to fight with all the others.
As soon as Farmer Macreadie had left the barn, Phil grabbed the contract and thrust it under Mrs Green’s nose.
‘Izzy, sign it, look! Sign it! One little signature and all your problems will be solved! No more worrying about tractors, no more worrying about harvests, no more worrying about –’
But his last word was cut off by a great cry from Farmer Macreadie.
‘Pigs,’ he cried. ‘Pigs!’
Mrs Green and Phil stared at each other and ran out to see what was happening.
Farmer Macreadie was sitting in his cart at the gate to the farm and pointing and laughing and clapping at the five chattering, filthy, cheering children who were now making their way into the yard with seven exhausted piglets in their arms. Vincent’s were on leads made out of Megsie’s hair ribbons. It was a wonderful sight. Nanny McPhee