the picnic scene so, of course, it’s raining. The Art Department have finally got the cowpat right. I wrote this sentence in the script: Mrs Docherty spies a big cowpat.

‘Oh look!’ she says. ‘How thoughtful! You’ve put out cushions!’

I didn’t describe the cowpat in any great detail, but I saw in my head one of those round things with a dip in the middle that really could be mistaken for a brown cushion if you couldn’t see very well and were slightly bonkers, both of which apply to Mrs Docherty. But the first cowpat that arrived was – well, it was terribly realistic, of course, because we have a brilliant Art Department, who went and looked at lots of real cowpats and produced an exact replica. Anyway, it was green, with bits of stuff sticking out here and there, and Maggie Smith took one look at it and said, ‘You must be joking! I wouldn’t sit on that – it looks like a pile of sick.’ We all laughed heartily of course, except the Art Department, who had to go away and make a new one. Susanna is going to take pictures of her cowpats at home (she lives on a dairy farm) to make sure that we are getting it right. This new one is perfect and looks as though it would be very comfy if you sat on it.

The cowpat’s all right, but Simon (our sound maestro) has brought in his brand-new sound machine with sixteen tracks on it because there are ten people in this scene – and it’s broken. We are DOOMED.

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The Story 25

Everyone whirled around to see Norman standing in the doorway looking very stern and pointing an accusing finger at Phil. Flanking him were Cyril and Nanny McPhee looking equally grave.

‘Norman!’ cried Mrs Green. ‘Where on earth have you been?’

This was Norman’s big moment – he’d thought about it from the moment the awful telegram had arrived and he’d known it was false and he’d wanted to shout it then but knew he couldn’t, but now he had proof and he could. He took a deep breath.

‘Mum – Dad’s alive.’

Vincent breathed in sharply. ‘What?’ he said, in a tiny squeaky voice.

‘Dad’s alive and I can prove it.’

Mrs Green sat down very suddenly. Luckily there was a chair behind her so she didn’t fall on the floor.

‘How?’ she said, very quietly.

Norman walked over to her. ‘Cyril and I went to the War Office in London with Nanny McPhee. We saw Cyril’s dad and found out that Dad was M.I.A.’

‘That means Missing In Action,’ said Cyril helpfully.

‘And we found out something else – no telegram was ever sent – the one we got was forged!’

‘Exactly!’ cried Phil with relief. ‘And I forged it! I’m an evil forger! There’s your crime! Now will you arrest me?’

But Mr Spolding was gazing with admiration at Norman and Mrs Green, who had tears in her eyes that made them shine even brighter.

‘Norman – how did you know Dad was still alive?’ she asked.

‘I could feel it in my bones,’ said Norman, without hesitation.

Mrs Green looked at him for a long moment.

‘Then it must be true,’ she said, getting up and hugging him to her chest. ‘Thank you, my darling, thank you, thank you.’

And then some of the tears fell on top of Norman’s head but he didn’t notice them.

‘And Cyril! Thank Cyril too!’ he said, somewhat indistinctly.

Mrs Green cried, ‘Oh, Cyril darling, come here!’

And he did, and Mrs Green hugged him to the other side and nearly suffocated them both, and Mr Spolding wept a small tear as well, because he was so happy to hear that lovely Rory Green was alive.

‘Didn’t you hear?’ shrieked Phil, clutching at Mr Spolding’s arm. ‘I’m a forger, a villainous forger! Arrest me, please, before it’s too late!!!’

But Mr Spolding had started to consult his pamphlet.

‘Leave it, Phil,’ he said, crossly. ‘There’s a bomb out there what needs dealing with.’

This was the first the boys had heard of it. Everyone went to the window again.

‘It’s a UXB!’ said Cyril.

‘They know,’ said Celia. ‘I just told them.’

‘It could go off at –’

‘They know that too,’ said Celia, patiently. ‘We’ve been through all that. The question is – what do we do now?’

‘Don’t we run away?’ said Vincent, looking concerned.

‘No!’ said Norman. ‘It’s right in the middle of the barley! If it goes off, the whole harvest will be destroyed! Mr Spolding! What does it say in the book?’

Mr Spolding held up a finger