Free Nanny Piggins and the Daring Rescue 7 by R. A. Spratt Page B

that is given to you always tastes nicer because you can really enjoy not having had to make it.’
    â€˜Don’t worry, Boris borrowed Father’s Rolls-Royce and he’s coming to pick us up,’ said Samantha.
    â€˜I’m lucky to have such a sweet bear for a brother,’ said Nanny Piggins. ‘It almost makes up for not getting to eat ten times my own body weight in cheesecake.’
    â€˜There he is,’ said Michael.
    Boris pushed open the glass doors and entered the room. Now, normally when a large group of people are shocked, they fall silent. But the chess players had already been silent. So when Boris entered they started mumbling, which is about as loud as a chess player gets.
    â€˜What’s the matter with you lot?!’ demanded Nanny Piggins. ‘Haven’t you ever seen a ten-foot-tall Kodiak bear before?’
    â€˜Come on, Sarah,’ said Boris. ‘I left the engine running. Let’s get out of here quickly.’ Boris grabbed Nanny Piggins by the trotter and started to hurry her to the door. But they never made it because the man with the clipboard leapt in front of them.
    â€˜You are Boris Bearovski!’ he exclaimed.
    â€˜Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Nanny Piggins, fighting the urge to stamp on the impertinent man’s foot. ‘His name is Boris the Ballet-Dancing Bear.’
    â€˜I know Boris Bearovski when I see him,’ protested the clipboard man.
    â€˜You obviously don’t know a bar of soap when you see one,’ accused Nanny Piggins, ‘so I wouldn’t trust your judgement on recognising anything else.’
    â€˜Well actually,’ said Boris, ‘when I was a little bear cub in Russia I did use another name.’
    â€˜Was it Lillibet?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘If I wasn’t already called Sarah Matahari Lorelai Piggins I’ve always thought I’d like to be called Lillibet.’
    â€˜Maybe you will some day,’ said Michael optimistically. ‘The chances of you having to go into the witness protection program or run away from the police and change your name are much higher than they are for a normal person because of your colourful lifestyle.’
    â€˜True,’ agreed Nanny Piggins.
    â€˜You are Boris Bearovski!’ accused the clipboard man, again.
    â€˜Are we still talking about that?’ asked Nanny Piggins, starting to get annoyed.
    â€˜Boris Bearovski, the world’s greatest chess-playing bear!’ declared the clipboard man.
    â€˜What?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘Boris, are you secretly brilliant at something without telling me?’
    â€˜I don’t know about brilliant,’ said Boris. ‘A lot of people are good at chess in Russia. They take it very seriously there.’
    â€˜You have a ranking of 2602,’ gushed the clipboard man.
    â€˜Is that good?’ asked Nanny Piggins.
    â€˜Anything over 2500 makes you a grandmaster,’ said the clipboard man.
    â€˜That does sound good,’ agreed Nanny Piggins. ‘I wouldn’t mind having the title “grandmaster”. It would look very good on business cards, right after “World’s Greatest Flying Pig”.’
    â€˜There’s no need to make such a fuss,’ said Boris, blushing.
    â€˜Why didn’t you ever mention that you were a genius at chess?’ asked Samantha.
    â€˜It never came up,’ said Boris. ‘Being good at chess is kind of like being good at watching paint dry. It’s not exactly a scintillating conversation starter. Besides, I forgot.’
    â€˜How could you forget that you’re a chess grandmaster?’ asked the clipboard man.
    â€˜Well, I might be a genius at chess but I’m much better at ballet,’ explained Boris, ‘so I spend most of my time thinking about that . . . and honey sandwiches. Speaking of which, has anybody got a honey sandwich?’
    â€˜You have to enter our chess