picked up his spoon – and put it down again.
‘It hasn’t got an umbrella on top,’ he wailed. ‘I always have a plastic umbrella on top. I won’t eat it unless I have a – Ugh! Eek! Yow! What’s happened? I didn’t touch it, I didn’t, I didn’t !’
He was telling the truth for once, but nobody believed him. For the Knickerbocker Glory had done a somersault and landed face down on the table, so that the three kinds of ice-cream, the jelly , the tinned peaches and the raspberry juice were running down Raymond’s trousers, into his socks, across his flashy shoes . . .
Odge had not ill-wished Raymond Trottle. She had been very good and held herself in, but not completely . S he had ill-wished the Knickerbocker Glory .
Six
‘I want some brandy for my teeth,’ said Nanny Brown.
She lay in the second bed from the end in Ward Three of the West Park Hospital, in a flannel nightdress with a drawstring round the neck because she didn’t believe in showing bits of herself to the doctors. She had been old when Mrs Trottle persuaded her to come to Switzerland with the stolen baby and now she was very old indeed; shrivelled and tired and ready to go because she’d said her prayers every day of her life and if God wasn’t waiting to take her up to heaven she’d want to know the reason why . But she was cross about her teeth.
‘Now, Mrs Brown,’ said the nurse briskly, ‘you know we can’t let you soak your teeth in that nasty stuff. Just pop them in that nice glass of disinfectant.’
‘It isn’t nice, it’s smelly , ’ g rumbled Mrs Brown. ‘I’ve always soaked my teeth in brandy and then I drink the brandy . That’s how I get my strength.’
And she had needed her strength, living in the Trottles’ basement helping to look after Raymond, but keeping an eye on Ben. She didn’t hold with the way Larina was bringing up Raymond; she could see how spoilt he was going to be and when he was three she’d handed him over to another nanny , b ut she wouldn’t let Larina turn her out – not with Ben to look after. Mrs Trottle might threaten her with the police if she said anything about the stolen baby, but the threat worked both ways. ‘If you turn me out, and the boy, I’ll tell them everything and who knows which of us they’ll believe,’ Nanny Brown had said.
So she’d stayed in Trottle Towers and helped with a bit of sewing and ironing and turned her back on what was going on in the nurseries upstairs. And she’d been able to see that Ben at least was brought up properly . S he couldn’t stop the servants ordering him about, but she saw to his table manners and that he spoke nicely and got his schooling and he was a credit to her.
That was the only thing that worried her – what would happen to Ben if she died. Mrs Trottle hated Ben; she’d stop at nothing to get him sent away. But I’m going to foil her, thought Nanny Brown. Oh yes, I’m going to stop her tricks.
‘There’s a burglar under my bed,’ she said now. ‘I feel it. Have a look.’
‘Now, Mrs Brown,’ said the nurse, ‘we don’t want to get silly ideas into our head, do we?’
‘It isn’t silly , ’ s a id Nanny peevishly. ‘London’s full of burglars, so why not under my bed?’
The nurse wouldn’t look though; she was one of the bossy ones. ‘What will your grandson say if you carry on like that?’ she said, and walked away with her behind swinging.
But when Ben came slowly down the ward, the old woman felt better at once. She’d been strict with him: no rude words, eating up every scrap you were given, yet she didn’t mind admitting that if she loved anyone in the world it was this boy. And the other patients smiled too as he passed their beds because he was always so polite and friendly , greeting them and remembering their names.
‘Hello, Nanny . ’
He always called her Nanny, not Grandma. She’d told him to, it sounded better. Now he laid a small bunch of lilies of the valley down beside her
‘It hasn’t got an umbrella on top,’ he wailed. ‘I always have a plastic umbrella on top. I won’t eat it unless I have a – Ugh! Eek! Yow! What’s happened? I didn’t touch it, I didn’t, I didn’t !’
He was telling the truth for once, but nobody believed him. For the Knickerbocker Glory had done a somersault and landed face down on the table, so that the three kinds of ice-cream, the jelly , the tinned peaches and the raspberry juice were running down Raymond’s trousers, into his socks, across his flashy shoes . . .
Odge had not ill-wished Raymond Trottle. She had been very good and held herself in, but not completely . S he had ill-wished the Knickerbocker Glory .
Six
‘I want some brandy for my teeth,’ said Nanny Brown.
She lay in the second bed from the end in Ward Three of the West Park Hospital, in a flannel nightdress with a drawstring round the neck because she didn’t believe in showing bits of herself to the doctors. She had been old when Mrs Trottle persuaded her to come to Switzerland with the stolen baby and now she was very old indeed; shrivelled and tired and ready to go because she’d said her prayers every day of her life and if God wasn’t waiting to take her up to heaven she’d want to know the reason why . But she was cross about her teeth.
‘Now, Mrs Brown,’ said the nurse briskly, ‘you know we can’t let you soak your teeth in that nasty stuff. Just pop them in that nice glass of disinfectant.’
‘It isn’t nice, it’s smelly , ’ g rumbled Mrs Brown. ‘I’ve always soaked my teeth in brandy and then I drink the brandy . That’s how I get my strength.’
And she had needed her strength, living in the Trottles’ basement helping to look after Raymond, but keeping an eye on Ben. She didn’t hold with the way Larina was bringing up Raymond; she could see how spoilt he was going to be and when he was three she’d handed him over to another nanny , b ut she wouldn’t let Larina turn her out – not with Ben to look after. Mrs Trottle might threaten her with the police if she said anything about the stolen baby, but the threat worked both ways. ‘If you turn me out, and the boy, I’ll tell them everything and who knows which of us they’ll believe,’ Nanny Brown had said.
So she’d stayed in Trottle Towers and helped with a bit of sewing and ironing and turned her back on what was going on in the nurseries upstairs. And she’d been able to see that Ben at least was brought up properly . S he couldn’t stop the servants ordering him about, but she saw to his table manners and that he spoke nicely and got his schooling and he was a credit to her.
That was the only thing that worried her – what would happen to Ben if she died. Mrs Trottle hated Ben; she’d stop at nothing to get him sent away. But I’m going to foil her, thought Nanny Brown. Oh yes, I’m going to stop her tricks.
‘There’s a burglar under my bed,’ she said now. ‘I feel it. Have a look.’
‘Now, Mrs Brown,’ said the nurse, ‘we don’t want to get silly ideas into our head, do we?’
‘It isn’t silly , ’ s a id Nanny peevishly. ‘London’s full of burglars, so why not under my bed?’
The nurse wouldn’t look though; she was one of the bossy ones. ‘What will your grandson say if you carry on like that?’ she said, and walked away with her behind swinging.
But when Ben came slowly down the ward, the old woman felt better at once. She’d been strict with him: no rude words, eating up every scrap you were given, yet she didn’t mind admitting that if she loved anyone in the world it was this boy. And the other patients smiled too as he passed their beds because he was always so polite and friendly , greeting them and remembering their names.
‘Hello, Nanny . ’
He always called her Nanny, not Grandma. She’d told him to, it sounded better. Now he laid a small bunch of lilies of the valley down beside her
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