“Where?” cried Edie. She grabbed the handlebars of the bicycle as if she was ready to leap on and start pedalling.
“They were by the crossroads arguing loudly about something they’d mislaid. But Greta wasn’t with them, Edie. I don’t know what you mean, accusing them of kidnapping her.”
“Perhaps she’s escaped,” gasped Edie.
“Who? Greta?” Aunt Roberta raised an eyebrow.
“We were spying on the Snigsons this morning,” said Edie. “I know we shouldn’t have been but … well, Len vowed he’d get his revenge on us. And then I went to the railway station because there was a telegram. And I told Greta to stay in the waiting room. But she didn’t. And now she’s in terrible danger. Either Len Snigson has kidnapped her, or she’s on a train to Scotland all alone… ”
“How odd,” said Aunt Roberta. She didn’t sound in the least alarmed to hear that her young evacuee was in such awful peril. “Only, isn’t that Greta over there?”
She pointed towards the churchyard.
“Where?” Edie stood on tiptoes and looked over the wall. She couldn’t believe her eyes. Aunt Roberta was right. Greta was standing amongst the tombstones, clutching a bunch of wilted daffodils in her arms.
“Dear me,” said Aunt Roberta. “She’s taking flowers off old Bob Widdop’s grave. He’s only been buried a fortnight… Stop! Put those back, Greta! You mustn’t do that.”
Greta looked up, her eyes wide with innocent surprise. “Oh, hello.”
“Greta!” cried Edie, charging across the churchyard. “I thought you were lost. Or kidnapped. Or dead… ”
“All right, Edie,” Aunt Roberta warned, running to catch-up. “There’s no need to be quite so dramatic. As you can see, Greta seems perfectly all right. We don’t want to give her nightmares, do we?”
Greta didn’t seem in the least disturbed. In fact, she scooped another bunch of flowers from a grave and trotted away up the path.
“Where are you going, young lady?” said Aunt Roberta. “Put those flowers back, this minute.”
“I can’t,” Greta called over her shoulder. “I need to feed my babies.” And she disappeared around the side of the church.
“Her babies?” Edie and Aunt Roberta looked at each other. “What is she talking about?”
They peered around the building and saw Greta posting daffodils one by one under the hood of an enormous black perambulator.
“I saw that pram,” cried Edie. “At the station. Len Snigson was unloading it from the 11.53.”
“Heavens,” said Aunt Roberta. “I think Greta might have done a little bit of kidnapping for herself… ”
“You mean… ” Edie glanced around the empty churchyard. There was certainly no sign of any mother or nanny in charge of the pram. “You don’t think there’s an actual baby in there, do you?” But even as she spoke, she saw the big black pram rocking from side to side. There was definitely something inside it.
“Eat up,” cooed Greta, feeding yet more daffodils under the hood.
“Greta,” said Aunt Roberta gently. “May I have a look at your lovely baby?”
“Of course.” Greta beamed with pride as Aunt Roberta and Edie both stepped forward. “But it’s not a baby, it’s—”
“—A piglet!” gasped Edie. A pair of beady black eyes looked up at her and a pink snout was poking out from amongst the daffodils in the pram.
“Not just one piglet, silly,” said Greta. “It’s twiglets… ” She pushed the flowers aside and there was a squeal as a second little piggy popped its head up above the blue crocheted baby blanket. “Sorry. Not twiglets… ” Greta giggled. “I mean twin piglets! See?”
“Yes,” Aunt Roberta sighed. “I do see.”
“They’re adorable.” Edie couldn’t help smiling as the piglets snuffled and snorted. In all the excitement she’d almost forgotten to be cross with Greta, although her heart had only just stopped pounding.
“Did you find them like this at the station?” she asked. No wonder poor Mr Churchill had been forgotten. Greta did always say she wanted a piglet of her own. Now she had stumbled upon two … in their very own baby carriage.
“I pushed them here all by myself,” said Greta proudly, cooing as she rocked the pram. “They were hungry. That’s why I’m feeding them daffodils. Piglets like daffodils.”
“How extraordinary. Who would leave piglets in a pram?” said Aunt Roberta.
“Len Snigson, that’s who!” said Edie triumphantly. “I told you I saw him unloading it from the train. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I thought he was helping a mother and there must be a baby inside.”
“Hmm.” Aunt Roberta looked thoughtful. “The only reason to hide piglets in a pram is if they’re not supposed to be there,” she said. “The ministry certainly won’t be aware of these little fellows, that’s for sure.”
“Black-market pigs! Maybe that’s why the brothers were arguing,” said Edie excitedly. “I expect they were planning to smuggle the piglets up to the farm. I bet Len was meant to sneak them off the train and meet Donny at the crossroads. Only he turned his back for a minute. Then Greta came along and… ”
“And it turned into the case of the vanishing piglets!” said Aunt Roberta with a little smile.
“Can we keep them?” said Greta. “Please… ”
But before anyone could answer, Edie put her finger to her lips. “Shh!” she hissed. “Look!” She pointed towards the wall.
Len Snigson’s head had popped up over the top. But it disappeared again just as quickly.
Aunt Roberta cleared her throat. “Why don’t you come out and show yourself?” she said firmly. “It appears we may have something you are looking for.”
“Oh, er … that’s our old pram, that is.” Len’s head appeared again. His face was as flushed and pink as the piglets he was trying to hide. “It’s – er – got sentimental value, that’s all… ”
“Oh,” said Aunt Roberta. “I assumed it was what was inside the pram that was of interest to you.”
“What’s that you say? There’s summat inside?” Len had climbed over the wall. “Piglets? Well I never,” he said, peering
