Free Nanny Piggins and the Race to Power 8 by R. A. Spratt Page B

pole in place while Nanny Piggins bolted the top to Mr Green’s ceiling. It is always physically tiring work to hold something still for prolonged periods, but it is particularly wearisome when your overexcited sister keeps dropping her hammer onto your head from two floors above. And it isn’t as though Boris could let go of the pole to rub his head because then the pole would scoot away and Nanny Piggins would hit the floor, or even worse, the sore spot on Boris’ head.
    So Nanny Piggins was just painting olive oil on the pole (to make it extra slippery) before they all had a go, when disaster struck. Suddenly and unexpectedly the entire house began to shake, as a deafening rumble rattled the building from the foundations up.
    ‘What’s going on?’ wailed Samantha.
    ‘It must be an earthquake!’ yelled Derrick.
    ‘Either that, or someone in China has decided to dig a hole through the centre of the earth to come and visit us!’ suggested Nanny Piggins.
    Michael had a quick look out the window. ‘I can’t see any tunnels or tourists in the backyard!’
    ‘Then we’d better take emergency evasive action!’ decided Nanny Piggins.
    ‘You mean, stand in a doorframe or take shelter under a desk?’ asked Derrick.
    ‘I was going to say “eat a slice of cake”,’ admitted Nanny Piggins. She had lived her entire life in a circus. And when your home is a tent, earthquakes are no great concern. If a large sheet of canvas or an aluminium pole falls on your head, you’ll be fine. The greater concern is being a victim of cake looting during the aftermath. (Once there had been a cyclone that ravaged the circus and Nanny Piggins had been so busy providing first aid to her dear friend Esmeralda the elephant who had a speck of dust in her eye that she had not noticed when the fat lady snuck into her tent and ate her supply of mud cake.
    Nanny Piggins did not hold it against Melanie. Eating is what fat ladies do, and if you are going to leave chocolate cake unguarded, that is tantamount to entrapment.)
    At this point, the house was shaking so much that pictures started falling off the walls and furniture started vibrating away from their allocated floor spaces. ‘Perhaps we better continue this discussion outside,’ suggested Derrick.
    ‘Good idea,’ said Nanny Piggins as part of the ceiling collapsed on the floor next to her. ‘If this is a terrible natural disaster we could dig up the emergency cake supplies I buried in the garden.’
    Nanny Piggins decided that the quickest and safest way to get outside was to jump out the bedroom window. But having landed safely on the ground, she had difficultly persuading the children to follow her example. They had a much greater and more rational fear of head injuries than she did. So Nanny Piggins had to push over a wheelbarrow full of nice soft lawn clippings before they could escape the still trembling house. Samantha was so relieved to be safe on the ground that she gave Nanny Piggins an enormous hug, which was a good thing because it meant she did not notice when tiles started sliding off the roof and smashing onto the ground around her.
    ‘Let’s dig up the cake!’ said Nanny Piggins excitedly. ‘I remember I buried a particularly delicious marble cake near the maple tree.’
    ‘Hang on,’ said Michael, who was staring at the quivering house. ‘Why is our house the only house in the street that’s shaking?’
    ‘It must be an extremely localised earthquake,’ guessed Nanny Piggins.
    ‘Perhaps it isn’t an earthquake,’ said Derrick.
    ‘What are you saying?’ asked Nanny Piggins. ‘Do you think your father has rented out the space under the house to an evil scientist who is perfecting a doomsday device?’
    But then something even more serious occurred to Samantha. ‘Where’s Boris?’ she asked.
    ‘He’s usually the first person to run outside weeping when something unexpected happens,’ said Michael, ‘like being stung by a mosquito or not finding a